"Life here really is much worse than in Highgarden, but thank you very much for your hospitality all the same."
With the meal finished, Margaery Tyrell set down her knife and fork and spoke earnestly to Darean, who sat across from her.
During the banquet that had just ended, the flower of Highgarden had repeatedly raised her cup of her own accord, doing all she could to show those around her how approachable a daughter of House Tyrell could be.
That was not to say she particularly wanted to deal with the vast majority of the "country folk" in this room.
Darean knew perfectly well why she was doing it.
The three hundred elite household soldiers who had escorted her all the way here were, in fact, a veiled statement of House Hightower's stance to Margaery Tyrell.
Behave yourself. There is an army beside you, and this is not your territory!
The little rose's response was simple enough.
Since you want to keep an eye on me, I will be a good girl.
But if some of the bolder fellows happen to fall under the spell of a daughter of House Tyrell, surely that is not my fault?
It was a very simple approach, because Darean had no way to stop the little rose from displaying her charms.
That would have been highly inappropriate.
After all, their houses were lord and vassal, and the two of them were also related by blood.
Some things could not be handled too heavy-handedly.
If the two great houses fell out because of him, that would be a truly disastrous matter.
"My apologies, Lady Margaery. Our accommodations here are rather humble. Perhaps you could return to Oldtown. The cooks at the Hightower know many dishes from Essos, and they are quite good."
Darean's tone was just as sincere.
Taking a sip of the mediocre wine, Margaery merely smiled without speaking.
If he thought he could coax her into leaving with a few words, he was underestimating her far too much.
Early the next morning, Margaery latched onto Darean.
"Uncle Darean..."
Darean waved a hand, sighed, and said quietly:
"Enough, just call me by my name. Let us set the matter of my third sister aside for now."
To be honest, he always found it rather strange to have Margaery Tyrell calling him uncle all the time.
It made him sound old...
Even if their blood relationship did indeed make him her uncle.
"All right."
Margaery smiled sweetly, though that smile did nothing to cheer Darean up.
He had originally thought she would continue riding in her Teak Carriage.
To his surprise, the little rose showed no hesitation at all, leaping straight onto the horse a Tyrell guard brought over for her.
Once mounted, she even gave Darean a rather challenging look.
Rubbing his temple helplessly, Darean could only signal with his eyes for a guard to bring over his own Essos warhorse, Big Black.
Damn it, who wants to ride a horse after filling their belly with noodle soup for breakfast?
Wouldn't that shake it all up?
Darean was speechless inwardly, but his face wore an expression of admiration for Margaery's spirited bearing.
The two fine horses carried the young nobles toward the edge of the domain.
Margaery was not so overbearing that she would go wherever she pleased on Darean's territory.
So Darean led the way.
Their first stop was the New Land Town Walls, which were still under construction.
This offered the most to see, and also nothing to see.
With such a huge construction site sitting in plain view, Margaery's arrival would not affect its progress in the slightest.
In terms of visual impact, it was certainly the most eye-catching sight.
There was nothing to see in the sense that it was simply an earth-and-stone construction project.
Darean was confident he could spend an entire day slowly circling the perimeter of the New Land Town Walls.
In reality, Margaery would learn nothing from it.
"Look, Lady Margaery, this is where we plan to build the walls."
Darean pointed at the group of workers busy with rubble masonry as he spoke.
The workers were using specially made Wooden Molds to compact blocks of earth.
The walls would have a rammed earth core, enclosed by a layer of perfectly cut ashlar.
Walls of this kind performed better than either solid stone walls or solid earth walls.
And objectively speaking, New Land Town did not yet have the manpower to build solid stone walls.
Watching the workers bring their hammers down again and again, Margaery Tyrell instinctively covered her nose against a drifting cloud of dust.
Then, realizing Darean might be watching her, she lowered her hand again and asked with a light smile:
"Darean, why did you bring so many people to build a castle on this... well, wasteland?"
Tsk, seeing through something without saying it aloud is a traditional noble virtue. You still have much to learn, Lady Margaery.
Darean grumbled inwardly.
He did not believe Margaery was foolish enough to know nothing at all.
"Oh, this was my lord father's wish. As a son of the house, I must naturally follow the will of the Hightower."
Darean chose to wash his hands of the matter. My father told me to do it. If you want to know why, go ask him!
Having gotten nowhere, Margaery was not annoyed. She merely smiled with her lips pressed together and let the subject drop.
"All right, then, Darean. Sorry for the trouble, but would you tell me about your construction work?"
Hearing Margaery say this, Darean had no objection.
He knew this was not what Margaery truly cared about anyway.
It did not matter if he just said whatever came to mind.
And so, one made things up while the other let the words go in one ear and out the other.
A pleasant morning passed just like that.
That afternoon, Margaery had intended to continue, but a morning of jolting about on horseback dissuaded her.
After all, she was a noble lady and spent far less time in the saddle.
New Land Town's wretched roads were nothing like Highgarden's paved streets.
As it happened, Darean sent a helpless-looking Marwyn over to her.
Indeed, Margaery really had not known that Darean's maester was an archmaester from the Citadel.
This astonished her.
Such an appointment was simply far too grand.
Even House Tyrell did not receive treatment like this!
The little rose firmly entered a note in the little notebook in her mind:
Marwyn, an archmaester of the Citadel who studies magic and the occult, has become New Land Town's maester.
This may well be connected to the longstanding fondness of House Hightower's members for magical research.
Margaery put on what she considered her most lovely expression and asked Marwyn softly:
"Archmaester, may I ask why you came here?"
"What made you give up your comfortable life at the Citadel to become Darean's maester?"
Thoroughly pestered, Marwyn thought, I would like to know the answer myself. That boy talked me into it!
What he actually said, however, was something entirely different and profoundly inscrutable:
"Oh, that. All I can tell you, little girl of House Tyrell, is that the gods guided me to remain at Dareon Hightower's side. Perhaps it will help my research."
When she asked further, Marwyn refused to discuss it.
There was nothing Margaery could do.
After all, an archmaester of the Citadel held a lofty position and would be an honored guest anywhere.
As a child with no right of inheritance, she truly had no way to force him to speak.
It was the same situation she faced with Darean.
And so, another entry went into her little notebook:
New Land Town is not populated entirely by farmers unworthy of notice. Closer observation is still needed.
Before you continue