Golden banners fluttered around the ruined walls of the Dragonpit as the crisp autumn wind swept across the hill.
Gendry's black leather boots crunched over the scorched remains of the ancient structure. The once-majestic dome had collapsed beyond repair and would eventually have to be demolished. Broken stone, shattered pillars, and piles of rubble covered the grounds. Even the stone seating had disappeared, most of it having long been carried away by the people of King's Landing.
Gendry surveyed the ruins before turning to Randyll Tarly.
"Lord Randyll, examine the stonework, the walls, and the passageways. Is there anything here worth preserving?"
He paused before continuing.
"In the future, the center of the Dragonpit will become a domed Hall of Honor, dedicated to our warriors and the glory of the realm's military. Around it, we'll build homes for disabled veterans, complete with gardens and courtyards where ceremonies can be held."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Randyll knelt beside a pile of rubble and carefully examined several large stones.
"If the dome's foundation stones remain sound, many of them can be reused."
He looked around thoughtfully.
"The underground passages are still intact. They only need to be cleared and fitted with sturdy oak doors. Several sections of the outer walls can also be preserved. Anything beyond repair should simply be demolished."
He traced the layout with his hand.
"We can remove the damaged dome while keeping the circular foundation. Residential buildings and the Hall of Honor can be constructed around the perimeter, while the central plaza can be redesigned into a simpler ceremonial square."
Gendry nodded.
"That will do."
He turned toward Ser Barristan Selmy and Bronze Yohn Royce.
"Do either of you have any objections?"
Although Randyll oversaw the project, Ser Barristan, as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and Lord Yohn, one of the Vale's most influential lords, both outranked him in status.
Neither man objected.
"No, Your Highness."
"This project serves the realm and those who sacrificed for it," Ser Barristan said. "There is little to disagree with."
"Very well."
Gendry made the decision.
"Proceed with the plan. Submit all designs, labor requirements, and funding requests directly to me and the Small Council."
"It shall be done, Your Highness."
Randyll hesitated before asking,
"Will soldiers continue to be stationed here?"
"Yes."
Gendry nodded.
"This will house recovering veterans, and we'll likely establish a permanent garrison overlooking the surrounding district."
After all, if the Dragonpit became a military hospital, it naturally required military protection.
Rhaenys's Hill occupied one of the highest strategic positions in King's Landing.
Leaving it undefended would be foolish, especially with Flea Bottom lying so close beneath it.
---
With the basic plans settled, everyone's mood became noticeably lighter.
Unlike building an entirely new fortress, renovating the Dragonpit around its surviving foundations would save enormous amounts of time, labor, and money.
Ser Barristan gazed quietly at the ancient ruins.
"Back during the Storming of the Dragonpit, the rioters entered through side passages and windows. Dreamfyre eventually shattered the dome from within."
He sighed.
"Most of the Dragonpit was destroyed that day."
"There were attempts to repair it afterward, but once the last dragon disappeared..."
"...this place was abandoned."
Anguy crossed his arms.
"That event always struck me as strange."
"The mob may have been incited by religious fanatics, but someone clearly manipulated everything behind the scenes."
Gendry nodded thoughtfully.
"The answer isn't complicated."
He looked around the ruined Dragonpit.
"Storming the Dragonpit required three things."
"First, fanatics willing to charge straight into dragonfire."
"Second, skilled dragon-slayers."
"And third..."
"Perfect timing."
He continued calmly.
"At that time, the Dragonpit was at its weakest."
"Queen Helaena had already died, leaving Dreamfyre riderless."
"The remaining dragons were still young, and several of their riders were only children."
"They couldn't properly command their dragons."
"With every dragon confined inside the pit, they were overwhelmed one by one."
Gendry paused.
"The people most capable of orchestrating something like that were Larys Strong and House Hightower."
"Larys possessed an unmatched intelligence network."
"And House Hightower controlled vast wealth, enormous influence over the Faith, and close ties with the Citadel."
For generations, maesters had studied dragons.
One scholar in particular—Septon Barth—had argued that a dragon's true weakness wasn't its belly, as old legends claimed.
It was the eyes.
His work, Dragons, Wyrms, and Wyverns: Their Unnatural History, had once been read aloud to King Jaehaerys I by Alicent Hightower herself.
House Hightower almost certainly possessed that knowledge.
Bronze Yohn nodded.
"Most books concerning the Dance of the Dragons have disappeared."
"I've heard of one called The True History of the Dance of the Dragons, but only scattered fragments remain."
Gendry smiled faintly.
"There's another."
"Blood and Fire."
"It records the history of House Targaryen in remarkable detail."
"As far as I know, the only surviving copy remains locked deep beneath the Citadel."
---
Changing the subject, Gendry looked toward Randyll.
"How many men did House Hightower contribute during this war?"
Randyll answered honestly.
"Perhaps one or two hundred."
"They were commanded by distant Hightower cousins rather than Lord Leyton's own sons."
"Although Lord Leyton is Lord Mace Tyrell's father-in-law, Oldtown has never shown much enthusiasm for struggles over the Iron Throne."
"They declared support for House Targaryen after King Robert's rebellion but committed very few actual troops."
Gendry nodded thoughtfully.
"Only one or two hundred men..."
"Interesting."
He neither praised nor criticized the decision.
House Hightower always presented itself as detached from politics.
Whether that appearance reflected reality remained another matter entirely.
He asked another question.
"Did Lord Mace fail to send ravens requesting assistance?"
Randyll hesitated.
"To my knowledge, Lord Mace's commands reached every corner of the Reach."
"But..."
"House Hightower is by far the wealthiest and most powerful bannerman in the region."
"They've always been... somewhat slow to respond."
Gendry smiled faintly.
"So Lord Leyton must be very busy."
Randyll instantly understood the hidden meaning behind those words.
Choosing his response carefully, he said,
"Your Highness is correct."
"Even if Lord Leyton remains loyal to the Crown..."
"...his loyalty should be demonstrated personally rather than conveyed through others."
Gendry met his gaze.
"Exactly."
"You understand."
Randyll immediately lowered his head.
"I do."
The others remained silent, pretending not to notice the political message hidden within the conversation.
Randyll understood perfectly.
Gendry intended to keep a close watch on House Hightower.
And Randyll...
...was expected to become the Crown's eyes within the Reach.
---
"What has Lord Leyton been doing all these years?" Gendry asked.
Randyll gave a helpless smile.
"No one really knows."
"It's said he rarely leaves the upper levels of the Hightower."
"Rumors claim he's obsessed with strange studies..."
"Magic, ancient mysteries, and similar pursuits."
"His sons now govern Oldtown."
"But major decisions almost certainly still come from Lord Leyton himself."
Gendry slowly rubbed the Valyrian steel ring on his finger.
With Oldtown's immense libraries and the Citadel nearby, Lord Leyton certainly possessed every resource needed to pursue forbidden knowledge.
He asked another question.
"Lord Leyton still has one unmarried daughter, doesn't he?"
"The only unmarried daughter besides his youngest son."
"Yes."
Randyll nodded.
"Lady Malora Hightower."
"People call her the Mad Maid."
"She's Lord Leyton's eldest unmarried daughter."
"By rights, someone her age should already have grown children."
"But she's never married."
"Many believe she's... not entirely sane."
Bronze Yohn frowned.
"A noblewoman reaching that age unmarried is certainly unusual."
Gendry silently memorized the information.
Leyton...
The Mad Maid...
House Hightower...
None of them will remain minor players forever.
If Malora's younger sister, Lady Alerie Tyrell, already had an adult heir nearing thirty, then Malora herself was likely approaching fifty years of age.
For a noblewoman of Westeros...
That was extraordinarily unusual.
Perhaps her fascination with magic—or some other mysterious pursuit—had delayed marriage entirely.
---
The sound of galloping horses echoed across the hill.
Before long, Lothor Brune arrived.
"The men have been found, Your Highness."
Lothor had once lived among the poor in Flea Bottom.
With a little coin and a few questions, he had quickly located the city's most skilled rat-catchers.
"Excellent."
Gendry nodded approvingly.
"Put them to work immediately."
"Choose the smallest and quickest among them."
"Many of the hidden tunnels are too narrow for larger men to enter."
He looked toward the setting sun.
"After nightfall, I'll return to the main army camp north of the Blackwater Rush."
"I won't remain inside King's Landing."
---
That evening...
Hidden beneath the city's shadows...
Varys quietly received two important reports.
The information had not been difficult to obtain.
Even while operating from hiding, his vast network of little birds continued to gather intelligence.
The Gold Cloaks had begun recruiting rat-catchers.
They intended to explore the secret tunnels beneath King's Landing.
More importantly...
Gendry would no longer stay inside the capital.
Instead, he planned to spend every night within the far more secure military camp across the Blackwater Rush.
Varys closed his eyes.
Is my time running out?
Have I finally reached the point where I must draw my blade?
He could not abandon King's Landing.
This city...
...was the web he had spent decades weaving.
If he wished to survive...
There was only one option left.
Like a cornered beast...
He would have to find the perfect opportunity to strike.
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