At the Oldtown docks, the mood immediately grew subdued after Ser Baelor Hightower spoke.
Gunthor and Garth cast angry glances toward the top of the High Tower, where the beacon still burned as before.
At this critical moment, with Oldtown's very survival at stake, Lord Leyton Hightower, the lord of Oldtown, and the Madwoman Rhea Hightower were still thinking about their ancient magic. They were truly beyond saving.
"The few of us are enough to handle this crisis. Hasn't that been the way for all these years?" Ser Gunthor Hightower said, trying to encourage his brothers.
"Brother has always been the one managing the family's finances. Our house can recruit three times as many warriors as any lord under Highgarden."
"If we throw all of Oldtown's wealth and manpower into it, I can recruit even more," Baelor Hightower said. "But green boys, drunken layabouts, and gamblers looking for a meal are not killers. Unless everyone learns how to walk on water, it won't do us any good."
"Looks like we can't count on those relatives of ours either," Ser Humphrey Hightower said, referring mainly to Redwyne, Tyrell, Rowan, and the other lords.
"We rely on ourselves, then. The other houses are all waiting for the King's orders and forgetting their own courage," Ser Gunthor said.
"That is because the Storm has never lost. Everyone says he is the Warrior made flesh, brave and fearless. But fighting at sea is not the same as fighting on land," Ser Garth corrected him.
"Hold firm, wait for reinforcements, and don't go out looking for a reckless fight. Even the Redwyne fleet hasn't made up its mind to sail, let alone us." Baelor summed up the key point of Oldtown's defense.
"So be it," Ser Gunthor Hightower said, his face twitching. "Then let's see to our own duties."
In Westeros, there were always heirs hoping for bad news about their fathers or grandfathers, so they could inherit titles and lands. Power had always been like that.
But Ser Garth and the others felt there was not much conflict between their elder brother Baelor and their father, Lord Leyton. After all, this hidden-away Lord Leyton did not really grasp at power.
"Humphrey, be careful in everything," Baelor Hightower warned his youngest brother. "Quite a few Magisters have died in Lys recently. It's a mad city-state right now."
"I understand, Brother."
Gunthor and Humphrey stayed behind, one to guard the docks, the other to choose a route to Lys.
Ser Baelor and Ser Garth left the docks. The two of them had their own tasks as well.
The weather was damp, and the cobblestones beneath their feet were wet and slippery. Every alley was wrapped in fog.
The Hightower guards avoided them as much as possible and took the broad road along the river. The Honeywine wound through the heart of the ancient city.
On the west bank of the Honeywine stood Oldtown's city hall, where House Hightower's High Tower and beacon banner and the King's golden quartered banner always flew.
Garth's recruit camp was there as well, and the High Tower could be seen rising into the clouds.
Outside the barracks stood a plank table, with a flag planted beside it and fluttering in the wind. On the flag was a stepped white tower crowned with a burning beacon against a smoke-gray field.
"Come with us and be your own man! Go to war with us and defend Oldtown! We'll teach you to use a longsword, a Longspear, and a Morningstar. You'll march into battle beside 'Gray Iron' Garth and earn more coin than usual. Honor, victory, gold and silver. Be a man, and it can all be yours!"
Garth's heralds were recruiting outside the barracks, shouting with all their might.
"How is it going?" Ser Garth stepped forward and asked.
"Not very well, Lord," the herald said awkwardly in a low voice. "Some men are short on coin, but they value their lives more. With the Ironborn running wild, the only ones coming are old Sellswords and desperate gamblers and thugs."
Garth wiped a hand over his forehead. In desperate times, one tried anything, but this was the sort of useless rabble he could recruit in the city.
"Don't worry. I've already written to our five vassal houses. Their trained knights and soldiers will come to support us," Ser Baelor Hightower said.
Garth nodded. He knew Baelor meant the five great houses: the Costaynes of Three Towers, the Bulwers of Blackcrown, the Mullendores of the Uplands, the Beesburys of Honeyholt, and the Cuys of Sunhouse.
"Everyone knows the masters of the High Tower are powerful and extremely wealthy, but they have always preferred trade to war and rarely involved themselves in Westeros's civil wars," Baelor thought. But beyond that, House Hightower had its own difficulties.
They loved gold more than steel, and would rather spend money than step lightly into war, because House Hightower's wealth came from trade and peace.
Oldtown was a commercial city, much like most of the Free Cities across the Narrow Sea. It had neglected the desire for Fire and Blood, and its own military strength had begun to weaken.
After parting from Garth, Baelor returned to his small round hall in Oldtown's city hall.
"Lord, the people from the guilds and fishing villages are all asking to petition you," Baelor's steward said.
"Very well. I'll see them," Baelor said through gritted teeth.
These people had already come many times. He could not refuse to meet them even once.
Fully armed guards stood stern and imposing, gray cloaks draped over their shoulders.
There were angry fishermen from the capes of Westeros, purple-haired Tyrosh from across the sea, hairy Ibbenese, milk-pale Qarthians, charcoal-skinned Summer Islanders in feathered cloaks, and even masked Shadowbinders from Asshai by the Shadow.
The great hall of Oldtown's city hall was spacious, yet now it was packed with people and filled with noise.
"Ser Baelor Hightower has arrived. The Voice of Oldtown, Lord of the Harbor, Count of the High Tower, Warden of the Citadel, Beacon of The Reach, eldest son and heir of Lord Leyton Hightower."
The steward called out Baelor's name, and all the petitioners swarmed toward him like flies to blood.
"The Kraken stole my daughter and burned my fields and my boats," the fishermen wailed.
"Me too. My fishing boat is gone, and my crew and my wife are dead."
"We came here to do business, but now the Kraken are blocking the way out to sea, and some of our companions have been killed. Lord Baelor, you must uphold justice and wipe out the Kraken," a Qarthian said in a heavy accent.
"Everyone, please calm yourselves. I have already ordered the shipyards to speed up work on the warships."
"When will King Gendry come to support us? We can't trust your ships. We have to return to the open sea," a Summer Islander said, deeply dissatisfied.
"Weak. Weak."
"The Iron Throne will come to our aid." Baelor continued arguing with them, feeling as if his head were about to burst.
Through the window, Baelor saw the High Tower still standing tall.
The High Tower was both castle and lighthouse. It stood on Battle Island in Oldtown, at the broad mouth where the Honeywine flowed into Whispering Sound, its highest point burning day and night with a roaring flame.
Yet the base of the High Tower was a square, maze-like fortress built from rough black stone of unknown origin on Battle Island.
"Light the Way," Baelor reminded himself. That was the motto of House Hightower. He also carried the duty of keeping the trade routes and harbor safe. ... At Storm's End, the black dragon flew across the sky above the courtyard. Only after Balerion had hunted food from the sea did he return to Storm's End once more.
"This trip was worth it," Gendry said, standing in the courtyard of Storm's End. Over the past few days, he had found many valuable books and clues inside Storm's End.
"Storm's End is only ordinary Graystone with runes added," Gendry concluded. But the black stone was something stranger.
The Sea Stone Seat, the base of the High Tower, and the castle on Dragonstone all contained this black stone. The differences lay in whether it was dry or slick, and whether it came from the Valyrian Dragonlords, the Deep Ones, or something else.
"Could the Crow's Eye's bloodbath in Oldtown also have something to do with the blackstone?" Gendry guessed boldly.
Besides the blackstone, Gendry had also studied the stories of the Storm Kings of every age, and the tales of the Children of the Forest and the Giants. Even now, the Stormlands had many mountains and forests, let alone in the past.
In ancient times, from Cape Wrath to the Cape of the Sea-Monsters north of the Iron Islands, vast primeval forests had once stretched across the land, where the Children of the Forest lived in peace. The Giants lived in the hills beneath the Red Mountains and among the rocky ridges of Massey's Hook.
Now, of those great forests, only the Kingswood and the Rainwood remained. The Children of the Forest and the Giants had vanished as well.
"Durran the Devout," son of "Durran Godsgrief," returned most of the forest his father had seized to the Children of the Forest.
A century later, "Durran Copper-axe" sent his army out and took the forest back once and for all.
The songs said that "Durran the Stern" slew the Giant King "Lennwan the Last" at the Battle of the Crooked River.
"The Andal invasion changed everything. The Storm Kings once forged a pact with the Children of the Forest, but now most of the Children of the Forest hide beyond the Wall," Gendry thought.
When faced with the tide of Andal invaders, King Durran XXI took another path. He found the Children of the Forest hiding in caves and empty mountain valleys, and joined forces with them against the unwelcome guests from across the sea. Thus the "Weirwood Alliance" was formed.
At the Battle of Blackbog, the Battle of Misty Wood, and the Battle of Howling Mountain, they struck the Andals head-on, delaying the decline of the Storm Kingdom for a time.
If there were still Children of the Forest in the Green lands, then perhaps there was some hope around the Gods Eye of Harrenhal, or in the Rainwood of the Stormlands.
"But Children of the Forest in the woods would be very hard to find," Gendry thought.
Besides, as far as the Children of the Forest were concerned, the Storm Kings were the ones who had broken the oath. In the end, the Storm Kings began marrying Andal maidens, and the Children of the Forest began to disappear completely.
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