The weather in Oldtown was very different from King's Landing. Here, cold, damp sea fog was far more common.
Perhaps it was because deeper waters and the open sea lay beyond Oldtown, while across from King's Landing, the nearby landmass was Essos.
Oldtown was heavily shrouded in fog today. Only the beacon atop the High Tower could be seen.
"Clop, clop, clop!"
Hooves rang out as knights rode by, their Longspears bearing embroidered triangular banners.
House Hightower's elite guards escorted the four Hightower brothers to the Oldtown docks to inspect the situation.
The guards all wore gray steel ringmail, and on their cloaks was the emblem of House Hightower: the High Tower and its beacon.
Baelor was the first to see the statue of "The Sea Lion," Lymond Hightower, a legendary Hightower hero and leader. Even now, The Sea Lion's statue still stood in Oldtown's harbor.
Through a marriage alliance with House Gardener, the High Tower secured its position on land and devoted itself fully to building its navy.
During the Sea Lion's rule, no other house in all Westeros had a naval force that could rival House Hightower's.
"Our ancestors once had such a glorious fleet, yet now I have to borrow ships from Lynesse, my sister whom others insult as a whore..." Baelor looked at the Sea Lion's confident face, and mixed feelings rose in his chest.
A chain had been stretched across Oldtown's harbor, connected to roughly twenty battered ships. Behind them was a row of warships, with three large sailing ships nearby, along with the towering flagship of Lord Hightower, the four-banked Honor of Oldtown.
"Forgive us, but we must inspect the cargo."
Farther out in the harbor, patrol ships flew the stepped white tower flag crowned by a beacon, along with King Gendry's golden quartered banner. They cruised the waters as the first line of defense.
The Old Man of Oldtown never left the High Tower. He remained shut away at the top with the "Madwoman," studying grimoires. Oldtown had been under Baelor's management for many years now.
"With fog this thick, what if the Ironborn use the confusion to slip in?" Ser Baelor Hightower said as he looked over the misty harbor.
Fog was the best cover the Ironborn could ask for. They were fierce and reckless, but skilled sailors, and now they had the cunning and vicious Crow's Eye as well.
Ser Baelor looked at the still-bustling port. After all, merchants from distant places still did not know about the Ironborn's rampage.
"There's nothing we can do. Oldtown's weather has always been like this," Ser Garth Hightower said with a shrug. He was a sturdy, powerful man in gray plate armor.
He was Lord Leyton's second son, and a knight of some reputation.
"What is Lord Redwyne doing? He clearly has a great fleet. Why doesn't he strike first and wipe out those Iron Bastards?" Ser Humphrey Hightower, the youngest son, said angrily. He wore a silver cloak over gray enameled scale armor.
"He is acting on the King's orders. He is being cautious and steady, waiting for King Gendry's fleet, along with the King himself or Great Lord Stannis," Ser Gunthor Hightower, the third son, explained.
Baelor listened to that name. Gendry the Storm. But House Hightower had remained almost idle all this time, and Baelor did not dare guess the King's true intentions.
"Caution is no excuse for cowering. Redwyne's ships and ours may not be so numerous, but they sit deeper in the water and hold a greater advantage in naval battle," Ser Humphrey said. Young men were often too hot-blooded.
"The King's arrangements have their own reasoning," Ser Garth said. "This time, the Ironborn have come out in full force. They haven't only occupied the Shield Islands. Their longships are also raiding and harassing the small islands near the Arbor: Stonecrab Cay, Pig Islands, Mermaid's Cradle, even Horseshoe Rock and Bastard's Stone."
"But House Redwyne has been tied to us by marriage for many years. It seems Lord Paxter is not confident either, and besides, he is obeying the King's will," Gunthor said in analysis.
House Redwyne was one of House Hightower's oldest allies, a bond that stretched far back through the ages. In those days, House Tyrell had still been merely the stewards of Highgarden.
Baelor nodded as he listened. The Ironborn were raiders by nature. They liked to strike suddenly from the sea, snatch away gold and women, then sail back to their distant islands.
But this time, the Ironborn raids were far too fierce. Their fleet had been fully deployed, with hundreds, even thousands of ships.
Ser Gunthor shook his head. "If Lord Paxter refuses to come out, then we can only rely on ourselves."
"The situation is getting worse. We cannot simply wait for Redwyne and the King's reinforcements," Baelor Hightower said in a low voice. He was tall, and the edges of his smoke-gray cloak were trimmed with flame-shaped red satin.
As heir, Baelor was handsome and distinguished, but he looked troubled.
"What do you suggest, Brother?" Ser Humphrey asked.
"We continue with the original plan, but increase the scale. I'll go push the shipyards to work day and night. Garth, you train the new recruits. Gunthor, you will be responsible for inspecting the harbor and the ships.
As for the Oldtown garrison, House Tyrell's people are managing it, but a garrison is not an army," Baelor ordered.
"That will cost a great deal," Ser Gunthor said. "But I have no objection."
"I have no objection either," Ser Garth said, looking at his elder brother. "But as for our soldiers, I need to make this clear. The new recruits I've gathered won't amount to much for some time. Sending them into battle would be no different from sending them to die. Sellswords are expensive and experienced, yes, but they only love gold and cannot be trusted in a hard fight. As for the garrison and knights from Oldtown itself, Baelor, you know what they are. Rich, but they've never seen blood."
That was the flaw of all wealthy cities. They valued commerce and trade too heavily.
The citizen militias trained in port cities might have the advantage in equipment, but their fighting strength was inevitably weak.
Baelor nodded. The brothers themselves were not top-tier warriors either, much less comparable to their great-uncle, Ser Gerold Hightower, the White Bull.
After weighing it over, Baelor said, "I understand what you mean, Garth. Oldtown, along with the knights, archers, and infantry provided by our vassal houses, such as the Bisburys and the others, will be our main force, but their numbers likely won't be enough. Recruiting new soldiers and Sellswords is also urgent."
"If we recruit to the limit, how many men can we gather?" Baelor asked Garth again.
"If we include our vassals, Oldtown's forces, Sellswords, and city thugs looking for a meal, I think we could possibly reach twenty to thirty thousand at the absolute limit," Garth said. "But I won't guarantee their fighting strength. I only pray we can hold out until King Gendry arrives."
Oldtown's strength, both in wealth and manpower, was formidable. During The Dance of the Dragons, House Hightower had once raised a thousand knights, a thousand Archers, three thousand foot soldiers, and several thousand Sellswords, even with some of its vassals having sided with the Black Party.
Although House Hightower's performance in that war had been poor, and its soldiers' showing unimpressive, it still had enough money after the war ended to raise the same force all over again.
Now, with the long summer that had passed and the growth in population, Oldtown could field even more soldiers as long as it was willing to spend the gold.
"Then we do it," Baelor said through clenched teeth. "The Shield Islands are in a miserable state. We may have to spend our gold, but that's still better than letting the Ironborn kill us and take it. We cannot act like misers."
"What about the guild's ships?" Ser Gunthor asked.
Baelor shook his head. "The guild's ships are all pot-bellied merchant vessels, far too clumsy. But we can make use of their sailors."
"Humphrey." Baelor turned to his youngest brother. "You will go to Lys and search for a mercenary fleet. Lynesse is in Lys as well, so you may ask for her help. The pirate king's house, the Saans, are quite formidable, but they're too cunning."
"As you command, Brother," the youngest son, Ser Humphrey, said with a nod.
"Should we tell Father? And should we consider lighting the green beacon?" Ser Garth asked.
The ghastly green beacon was House Hightower's warning signal, used to summon its vassals.
"After the war on the Shield Islands, I went up to the tower and saw Father in person. He gave me full authority to handle this. He just refused to let me light the green beacon, saying things had not reached that point yet." Baelor spread his hands.
"What did Father say to you, Baelor?" Garth and the others asked curiously.
"What else? He said he has too much to deal with, and that right now he needs to focus on magic."
The brothers all drew in a sharp breath.