Street near the Starry Sept
Lady Lynesse walked back toward the Hightower after her morning prayer.
The cobbled streets were already alive. Carts rattled over the stones. Fishmongers shouted their prices. The smell of salt, sweat, and the nearby harbor hung thick in the morning air.
Her guards moved first, clearing a path. Behind them came the maids in neat lines. Lynesse walked at their center, straight-backed, her silks brushing softly against the hems of her attendants.
A smile rested on her face.
To the people watching, it was a warm one.
"Good morning, my lady," someone called from a stall.
Lynesse turned her head slightly and dipped it in acknowledgment.
"And to you," she replied.
The commoners bowed as she passed. Some bent deeply. Others simply lowered their heads. A few stared openly, whispering to one another as she moved along the street.
"Lady Hightower," a woman murmured, clutching a basket to her chest.
"Seven bless you, my lady."
Lynesse's smile did not falter.
As the small procession continued through the crowded street, the guards kept a careful ring around her and the maids. Anyone who drifted too close was quietly nudged back with a firm hand or a raised arm.
The busy street began to shift around her presence. Voices lowered. Some people stopped their work entirely just to watch her pass.
To many of them, the sight carried meaning.
Lady Hightower walking among them.
Checking on the city.
Seeing their lives with her own eyes.
A few even looked pleased.
One man straightened his back proudly as she passed, as though the moment mattered.
Lynesse leaned slightly toward the handmaid walking closest beside her.
Her smile remained perfectly in place.
But her voice dropped low.
"Tell the guards not to let any of them get too close," she murmured. "The stench is turning my stomach."
The handmaid's expression did not change. She gave a small nod.
"Yes, my lady."
She slipped away from Lynesse's side and stepped toward the nearest guard. Her voice was soft, barely audible over the hum of the street.
The guard nodded once and passed the instruction along with a quiet gesture.
The circle tightened.
A fish seller tried to step forward with a hopeful grin.
A mailed arm blocked his path.
"Back," the guard said flatly.
The man stepped away at once.
Ahead, Lynesse continued walking through the street with the same pleasant expression.
She inclined her head to another pair of bowing townsfolk.
"Good day," she said warmly.
Behind the smile, her eyes had already moved past them.
High Tower — Queen Alysanne's Chamber
Morning light spilled through the tall windows, pale and gentle, touching the white stone walls of the chamber. A soft breeze moved the thin curtains.
Queen Alysanne sat near the window, a book resting open in her lap.
She was not reading.
Her eyes had lingered on the same page for several minutes now, her thoughts elsewhere. The quiet of the chamber was broken only by the slow turning of a page and the distant cries of gulls drifting in from the harbor.
A knock came at the door.
"Enter," Alysanne said without looking up.
The door opened and a maid stepped inside, carrying a wooden tray. Fresh fruits had been arranged neatly upon it. Apples, pears, and a small cluster of grapes that still glistened with droplets of water.
The girl dipped into a quick curtsy.
"My queen. Your morning fruits."
Alysanne closed the book and set it aside.
"Thank you."
The maid placed the tray carefully on the small table beside her chair. As she straightened, the queen reached for one of the apples.
Something white caught her eye.
A small fold of parchment rested half-hidden beneath the fruit.
Alysanne paused.
Her fingers moved the apple aside. The parchment slid free easily, as though someone had meant for it to be found.
Her brow creased.
"What is this?"
The maid blinked, startled.
"My queen?"
Alysanne unfolded the parchment slowly.
The writing was rough, uneven. The ink blotched in places where the quill had pressed too hard.
Her eyes moved across the lines.
The letter spoke of a maid.
A maid named Agnes.
Of Lady Lynesse.
Of orders whispered behind closed doors.
Of watching the royal family.
Listening.
Reporting.
The words turned bitter as the letter continued. Agnes wrote of being used, threatened, and mistreated by Lady Lynesse and her servants. She wrote that no one would believe the words of a maid.
Not against a lady.
The final lines were cramped and hurried.
She knew the queen might not believe her.
So she would make sure the Good Queen did.
Alysanne lowered the parchment slowly.
A faint frown settled on her face.
Then anger.
Lastly, worry.
The tone of the maid.
The urgency.
A quiet unease settled in her chest.
A foreboding.
She folded the letter once more and placed it carefully on the table.
"Girl," she said.
The maid straightened at once.
"Yes, my queen?"
"Fetch this Agnes for me."
The maid blinked in surprise.
"Agnes… my queen?"
"Yes."
The girl hesitated for a moment.
"I do not know the name, Your Grace."
Alysanne's gaze moved back to the folded parchment.
"Then ask," she said calmly. "Find her."
The maid curtsied again.
"At once, Your Grace."
She turned quickly and hurried from the chamber.
The door closed softly behind her.
Alysanne remained seated by the window. Her eyes rested on the folded letter.
The uneasy feeling lingered in her chest.
High Tower — Upper Staircase
The stone steps spiraled upward in a slow, winding curve.
A young maid climbed them.
Brown hair. Plain dress. Thin hands brushing the cold wall as she moved.
Her steps were steady.
Too steady.
Her face held no expression. Her eyes stared ahead without blinking.
Agnes climbed.
Down the stairs came another maid carrying a bundle of folded cloth against her hip. She was halfway down the spiral when she noticed the girl climbing toward her.
They passed each other.
The maid gave Agnes a quick glance.
"Going up this early?" she muttered out of habit.
No answer came.
Agnes walked past her.
The maid shrugged faintly and continued downward, already thinking about the work waiting below.
Agnes kept climbing.
One step.
Then another.
The stair opened onto one of the highest floors of the tower.
A vast chamber stretched before her. No chambers here. No doors. Only wide stone pillars rising toward the vaulted ceiling and great arched windows cut into the walls.
Wind moved through the hall in low, restless currents.
Agnes stepped onto the floor.
Her face remained blank.
She walked forward slowly.
The wind tugged at her hair as she approached one of the tall windows overlooking the city.
Oldtown spread far below.
The harbor. The maze of narrow streets. The roofs packed tightly together like scales across the city.
People moved there like ants.
She stopped at the window.
Waited.
Far below, at the foot of the tower, a small procession moved through the street.
Silks.
Guards.
Maids.
At their center walked Lady Lynesse Hightower.
Agnes watched them approach.
Her eyes did not change.
The wind grew stronger at this height, pushing through the open archway and tugging at her dress.
Slowly, Agnes lifted her hands and placed them against the stone frame of the window.
Her fingers curled over the edge.
She climbed.
Careful.
One foot on the sill.
Then the other.
She stood there, balanced above the drop.
Wind whipped through her hair now.
For a moment she remained perfectly still.
Then a thin line of blood slipped from one nostril.
It ran slowly down over her lip.
She did not react.
Her eyes stayed empty.
Agnes looked down.
Far below, Lynesse and her party had reached the base of the tower.
Almost directly beneath her.
Agnes leaned forward.
And jumped.
Foot of the High Tower
The causeway ended where the wide courtyard of the Hightower began.
Lady Lynesse stepped onto the open stone with a long breath, lifting a handkerchief to dab the sweat from her brow. The walk from the Starry Sept had taken longer than she liked. The crowd, the noise, the heat of bodies pressing too close—it had all worn thin on her patience.
Her smile was gone now.
Only irritation remained.
She lowered the cloth and flicked it lightly toward the handmaid beside her.
"Take this," she said, not even looking.
The girl caught it quickly.
"Have the baths ready the moment I—" Lynesse began, her voice sharp with command. "And bring wine as well. I will not endure another moment—"
Something fell.
A blur from above.
Then—
THUD.
A wet, heavy impact slammed against the stones directly in front of her.
Something burst.
A hot spray struck her face, her gown, her hands. Drops scattered across the maids around her.
For a heartbeat no one moved.
Then the screaming began.
"Aaaah!"
"Kyaaah!"
"Ahhh—!"
"My laaady!"
The guards in front stumbled backward in shock, nearly colliding with one another as they turned.
Lynesse stood frozen.
Something warm slid slowly down her cheek.
Her mind struggled to understand.
She lifted a trembling hand.
Red.
Thick.
Wet.
Her gaze dropped.
Her gown was soaked in it.
Something heavier tugged at her sleeve.
She looked down.
A strip of pale flesh hung across her arm.
Just… hanging there.
Her breath stopped.
Slowly… very slowly… her eyes lifted.
The body lay crumpled on the stones in front of her.
Not whole anymore.
Bones twisted at impossible angles. Limbs bent where limbs should never bend. The broken head turned wrong against the shattered torso.
Blood spread outward across the courtyard stones in a widening pool.
For a moment Lynesse only stared.
Her mind refused the shape of what she was seeing.
Then the truth broke through.
Her mouth opened.
"A—Aaaah—!"
The sound ripped out of her throat, high and raw.
She stumbled backward, shaking violently, her hands rising as if she could push the sight away.
"Get it off—! Gods—get it off me—!"
Her scream broke again, shriller now.
"Aaaah—! Aaaah—!"
The maids shrieked with her, their cries echoing off the stone walls of the tower.
"Seven!"
"Gods above!"
"Someone heeelp!"
Two guards rushed forward, one grabbing Lynesse by the shoulders to steady her as she swayed.
"My lady—my lady!"
But Lynesse could not stop screaming.
Aegon stood beside one of the tall windows, a glass of wine resting loosely in his hand. The red liquid caught the pale afternoon light as he turned the glass slowly between his fingers.
Screams drifted upward.
High-pitched.
Panicked.
He took a slow sip.
The wine was good. Strong. A little sweet on the tongue.
He let it linger there a moment before swallowing.
Far below, the courtyard had become chaos. Tiny figures rushed and scattered. Guards pushed through the crowd. Maids stumbled back from the center of the commotion.
Aegon watched them all with calm eyes.
The wind continued to carry the screams upward.
Aegon drained the rest of the wine in one long swallow.
He set the empty glass on the stone ledge.
Then he turned and walked away from the window.
***
📜 Milestones:
200 Power Stones → +1 Chapter ✅
***
Thanks for reading!