The beginning of calamity

Touching the Book of Strange Script he always kept close to his body, Darean did not rush to take it out and read it.

Compared with the contents of section four of [Prologue-Green Lands], he was more puzzled by the contents of the letter before him.

"Darean, I hope you will place the greatest possible trust in what I am about to tell you..."

That was how the letter opened.

Then Baelor wrote:

"Some... things have happened in the Hightower, but as I write this letter to you, I do not know what they are."

"In any case, our father may be having some trouble... well, trouble with his mind."

"..."

"In short, half the family's standing forces are in your hands."

"For now, you need not obey Father's earlier order summoning you back to the Hightower."

"Until Guncer and I have worked out exactly what happened, keep yourself safe. Of us brothers, you are the only one of our blood outside the Hightower."

"Also: I am sorry I failed to send Lady Margaery back to Highgarden City sooner."

"Your elder brother, Baelor."

In the middle section, Baelor had described the bizarre happenings in the Hightower to Darean as concisely as he could.

The small sheet of paper was almost entirely covered in dense writing.

Anyone else reading it might well have thought it the idle scrawl of some madman forsaken by the Seven.

But this was Baelor, the future head of House Hightower.

Far too many people had reason to concern themselves with his health.

If there really were something wrong with his mind, this letter could never have reached Darean.

Besides, the wax seal bore two impressions: Baelor's and Guncer's.

Unless the two brothers had gone mad together, the contents of this letter carried considerable weight.

Yet that kicked the problem straight back at him.

If his two elder brothers were sane, then what exactly had his father, Leyton Hightower, done to make Baelor write words hinting that Darean should stay away from the Hightower and preserve the family bloodline?

Darean could not make any sense of the connections between the "smell of blood," the "extra food," and the other things mentioned in the middle.

The old man and the young man faced the slightly damp letter in silence.

Marwyn felt his journey had truly been worthwhile. Even eight years roaming Essos had not been as exciting as half a year here.

Though he had never intended to get caught up in the nobles' messy affairs, now that he actually had, his restless heart still made him feel pleasure and anticipation.

"Hmm... hypothetically, mind you, hypothetically, if your brother is in his right mind."

Stroking his chin, Marwyn offered his opinion.

"If there's a smell of blood, then at the very least, someone has died on the top floor of the Hightower."

"Darean, do you know who besides your father can go up to the top of the Hightower?"

Darean shook his head and answered:

"As far as I remember, the only person who stayed at the top of the Hightower with my father was my elder sister, Moroia."

Catching the flash of pity in Marwyn's eyes, he waved a hand, his head aching a little, and said quietly:

"I know what you mean, but I can't think of a reason Father would kill my sister."

Kinslaying.

Anyone charged with it would be dragged out and hanged at once, even in a den of bandits.

If a king did such a thing, his rule would essentially crumble in a very short time.

Even if he temporarily held things together through force and bloodshed, the eventual outcome was certain to be very bad.

"Yes, the Old Man of Oldtown has ruled House Hightower for decades. I had brief dealings with him once. He didn't seem like someone who would lose his reason and go mad."

Marwyn sighed.

Of course he understood what Darean was thinking in this situation.

Leaving aside what exactly had made Leyton Hightower do these things.

The mere spread of this matter of kinslaying would bring House Hightower serious trouble.

After all, far too many hungry eyes were always watching Oldtown, that rich, fertile part of Westeros.

The earlier move of placing Darean here had already carried a considerable risk.

And now something like this had happened.

"Ah... tell the steward about this. This afternoon, the three of us need to discuss what to do next."

His gaze passed over the window frame to the lands that still looked full of life in the rain, and Darean sighed softly.

This was not a matter of storm winds heralding trouble; the downpour was already hammering their heads.

Marwyn asked one more question:

"Won't you tell Clyson?"

Darean shook his head:

"A warrior's duty is to grip the longsword in his hand and draw the longbow on his shoulder. They don't need to know about these things."

Nodding, Marwyn went to the steward's new quarters, which had only been put up in the last two days.

Unexpectedly, the steward, who usually remained unruffled even in the face of disaster, completely lost his composure after reading the letter.

Without even taking an umbrella, he ran over barefoot, splashing through the mud and water, shouting at the top of his lungs.

Marwyn could only lift his robes and chase after him, utterly exasperated.

The moment he saw Darean, the steward's eyebrows were practically standing on end.

He was just about to say something when Darean stopped him with a finger pointing upstairs.

"Keep your voice down."

Darean frowned in warning.

Remembering that there was still an uninvited guest in the house, the steward muttered, "Damned Tyrell," then immediately returned his attention to the letter.

Darean noticed that the old man's hand was trembling slightly as he clutched the paper.

After a moment's thought, he understood the reason for such a strong reaction.

As a staunch member of the "family faction," the steward represented Earl Leyton's own interests here with Darean.

Originally, Baelor should have sent someone to fill this position, but Darean's father had intervened.

As an old steward who had served the Earl of the Hightower for decades, everything about him had long since been bound to the name Leyton Hightower.

It would have been strange if he had not been nervous upon suddenly hearing the claim that his master had slain his own kin.

"Lord Darean, this... how could this..."

Before he could finish, Darean raised his hand again and interrupted him:

"I am not discussing the truth of this matter with you right now."

Looking straight into those aged eyes, once so shrewd and capable but now betraying panic, Darean spoke in an even tone:

"At least for now, until I receive a direct order from my father, I choose to believe Baelor."

"You know perfectly well that unless the situation were truly critical, a letter could never bear both Baelor's and Guncer's seals. Otherwise, wouldn't all Father's arrangements over these many years have been for nothing?"

"So now, faced with this calamity that may bring down our entire family, I need you to give me a calm mind capable of thinking."

"Should construction in the territory continue, and how should we deploy the troops we have?"

"Should we send someone to make contact with Sunflower Hall?"

"And... just how are we to deal with this trouble over our heads?"

"Steady your hand, steward. You know the consequences of a single wrong move now."