Highgarden was a city of white and fresh green. The castle was built of white marble, and inside and outside its walls lay a green paradise where flowers bloomed everywhere.
Highgarden stood atop a hill, overlooking the Mander below. The Ocean Road and the Roseroad met here.
Highgarden was beautiful, but the land around it was a broad plain. Its defenses relied mainly on walls, with no natural strongpoints to hold, much less any way to resist Dragons.
"Welcome His Grace Gendry and Queen Daenerys to loyal Highgarden."
Bronze trumpets sounded, and beneath the golden rose on green, heralds cried out loudly.
House Tarly's Horn Hill lay inland, among wooded hills a hundred leagues northeast of Oldtown, far from the coast.
Highgarden was not especially far from Oldtown either.
"Long live the Storm."
The golden banner looked down upon all, and Dragons danced through the sky. The nobles of The Reach stood solemnly, each of them seeming utterly loyal.
"Long live the Storm."
Frail, sharp-tongued Lady Olenna led the cry. Beside her stood two guards in gilded halfhelms and green cloaks edged with golden thread, the golden rose of Highgarden embroidered on their chests. Both men stood seven feet tall, broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted, their bodies packed with muscle.
The twin guards had the same strong jaws, the same deep blue eyes, and the same thick red beards.
Lady Alerie, the tall and dignified wife of Great Lord Tyrell, wore jeweled rings woven into her long silver braid.
Although they were still young Dragons, a single breath from beasts larger than warhorses would be deadly. And then there was the Ironborn head on the tip of the spear. It was said the rest of his body had been burned away by dragonfire.
"Your Grace, speed is precious in war. The strength of the High Tower supports the realm as well. Every merchant ship can be exchanged for grain of equal value," the merchants of Oldtown pleaded.
Oldtown had fought until now without catching a single great fish, and had lost the docks and Gunthor besides.
Gendry, meanwhile, had already retaken the Shield Islands and slain Lord Harras in single combat. By comparison, House Hightower's incompetence stood out even more.
"Yes, Your Grace. Now that the harbor is blocked, wine, wool, peaches, textiles, and the rest cannot be exported."
"We beg Your Grace to drive back the Ironborn. Our ships have all been burned, and we cannot return home," a black Summer Islander muttered, while the hairy Ibbenese nodded along.
Westeros was a wealthy kingdom renowned throughout the Known world, with fertile land, vast territory, and a large population. Naturally, many foreigners came to trade.
Essos was vast, but much of it was wasteland and desert, and great stretches were the Dothraki Sea. The good land was mostly along the coasts.
"Some of our ships were bought with loans from moneylenders and the Oldtown Bank, and those debts still must be repaid," other merchants wailed over their failed investments.
"I will protect your interests," Gendry promised. "As for the money you borrowed from the Oldtown Bank, I believe Lord Hightower will judge the situation properly and consider these special circumstances."
Oldtown had a bank as well, House Hightower's Oldtown Bank, said to be quite profitable. But after such a calamity, there was likely a risk of a run.
"If Your Grace sends troops, Oldtown's guilds will be endlessly grateful, and we will not let your soldiers go hungry."
The Oldtown merchants made their guarantee. They could still provide wages and supplies for Gendry's elite reinforcements, though they could not support a great fleet.
A thousand-mile march was made for profit. These Oldtown merchants were truly frightened. Crow's Eye had burned the docks. If he truly stormed into Oldtown itself, that would be even more terrifying.
"How do you want the Iron Throne to rescue Oldtown?" Gendry asked them.
"The great fleets, Your Grace. Oldtown begs for the Redwyne fleet and the Royal Fleet to be sent out, along with your Dragons. The situation will quickly improve. The Iron Fleet is no match for two great fleets," said Ser Jon Cupps, the envoy from Oldtown.
"And the Oldtown fleet?" Gendry asked, already knowing the answer.
"Almost the entire Oldtown fleet was burned in Oldtown's docks. Not one survived," Jon said with a mournful face.
The Oldtown fleet, the Oldtown docks, and Gunthor Hightower, the man who managed those docks, had all been destroyed together. Oldtown had become almost an undefended city.
"I will consider your words," Gendry said, though he did not agree in his heart.
The Twin Cities Fleet was on its way to Oldtown, but not so quickly. It had to cross the Stepstones and the Dornish Sea.
Even with sea charts, that journey was slow. Besides, Gendry had not ordered them to hurry so much.
"Your Grace, as long as Lord Paxter advances with us by sea and land and blocks the Iron Fleet at the mouth of the Honeywine, those iron bastards are dead for certain."
"Are you teaching me how to fight a war?"
Gendry looked at Jon, a flicker of anger flashing through his eyes.
The air seemed to grow colder, dropping to freezing point.
When the Storm grew angry, armies shrank back.
Harras's tarred head seemed to come alive, staring at the envoy from Oldtown.
"Yes. No, no. I am your servant." Ser Jon felt a crushing pressure. It came from power, will, and the shivering edge of killing intent.
"Oldtown still has twenty or thirty thousand soldiers. Its military strength is considerable. After I refine the troops at Highgarden, I will march straight to Oldtown."
Lady Olenna, Ser Willas Tyrell, and Ser Garlan Tyrell all breathed a sigh of relief. This was not refusing to fight, but gathering strength first.
Otherwise, such a huge army would remain in The Reach eating and drinking, consuming enormous supplies. They were also eager to save Oldtown quickly.
"There are twenty or thirty thousand men, yes, but a great many of them are Sellswords and novices. Ser Garth is still training them. Those men cannot be relied on," Ser Jon stammered.
Randyll Tarly pursed his lips. Embroidered pillows wrapped in gold.
The sharp edge Gendry had selected was made of elite soldiers, each worth ten.
As for House Hightower, aside from a few directly sworn houses, they were simply trying any remedy in a desperate illness, grabbing able-bodied men wherever they could.
Oldtown was wealthy, yes, but Oldtowners were used to trade, not expansion. One rarely heard of them winning any fine battles.
"Hiring that many soldiers is already no small thing. Twenty or thirty thousand," Ser Barristan commented.
Oldtown's defensive strength was richer than the force defending King's Landing. If House Hightower had not run into magic, they would not have appeared so useless.
"Send ravens to Oldtown. Hold firmly, and there will be a way. As for the Redwyne fleet at the Arbor, have it await my orders."
"As you command, Your Grace." Jon wore a bitter expression. "House Hightower will first hold Oldtown."
Gendry did not take that seriously. Looking at the history of Westeros, which great city had not been sacked or besieged? Storm's End, Winterfell, Highgarden.
If House Hightower did not have even that much ability, then it was unworthy of being called a great house.
Even Highgarden had once been looted and burned by the Dornish. The Oakenseat had been burned, the old king killed, and most of the city's buildings reduced to rubble.
In the end, it was Ser Osmund Tyrell, the High Steward, who joined with other nobles of The Reach to defeat Peake and Manderly, then raised Mern VI as king.
"Lord Leyton should first move out his treasury and the Citadel's libraries. The Battle of Oldtown will be especially bloody."
"Yes, Your Grace."
Gendry and Daenerys rode into Highgarden, whose three gates had already been opened one after another.
The lowest wall encircled the entire foot of the hill. Between it and the second wall was a carefully tended hedge maze, used to entertain guests and for amusement.
"Worthy of a city sung about by singers," Daenerys praised.
Sansa Stark also observed Highgarden. It was as lovely as Margaery Tyrell had described.
But Willas was lame and older as well, so Sansa simply ignored him.
The road into Highgarden was full of laughter and cheerful voices. Margaery's ladies were delighted to see her.
The Rose was as flourishing as the Lion. Looking at them, it seemed the Arryns had suffered the worst.
Margaery's three cousins, Megga, Alla, and Elinor, were still children themselves, not even eight years old. The noisy, plump Meredyth Crane was very merry.
...
On a small island in the Redwyne Straits, there was now a paradise for the Ironborn.
In a desolate stone hall, a dozen corpses hung from the rafters, swaying back and forth.
A dozen of Euron's captains sat in the hall, drinking beneath the bodies.
Crow's Eye sat in the main seat, wearing a blood-red cloak. Beside him was "Left-Hand" Lucas Codd, the Red Oarsman, followed by "Pinchface" Jon Myre, Stonehand, and "Salt-Beard" Rogin.
"Dead. They're all dead," Maron Volmark said in panic. "The Stag's men landed, and they had Dragons. Ser Harras is surely dead."
"Dragons? How large?" Crow's Eye Euron Greyjoy asked.
"About larger than warhorses. They can already breathe flames deadly enough to kill," Maron said, pale and trembling.
"They have come," Crow's Eye said proudly. "The little King has traveled a thousand miles to rescue Oldtown."
"They dared to whimper threats at us. Baratheon, Redwyne, Hightower, Tyrell. Hmph, hmph, never stopping. So I sent them all to hell," the Red Oarsman declared.
"Roses have thorns, and stags have even more," Rodrik said from below.
"Ironborn fear no blood. We have taken spoils. Your heir dies, and now you are afraid?"
Lord Rodrik opened his mouth. "Spoils? Do you mean these rocks? All four islands together are not as large as Harlaw. We won rocks, trees, and trifles, along with the enmity of House Tyrell and the Iron Throne."
"The Rose? The Stag?" Nute the Barber burst into laughter. "Can roses and stags defeat the Kraken of the deep?"
"Highgarden," the Reader answered. "Yes. Now the Iron Throne and all The Reach will gather against us."
Drumm nodded, one hand resting on the hilt of Red Rain. "Lord Tarly has the Valyrian greatsword Heartsbane, and he has always been Great Lord Tyrell's vanguard."
"Let them all come. At sea, the Kraken is supreme," Victarion said.
"No. We go to Oldtown. The Redwyne fleet will not dare appear alone. I will seize the King's Dragons at Oldtown, then break the fleet."
Crow's Eye laughed loudly.
"That is too dangerous."
"Not dangerous at all, little brother. Soon, you will know what it means when the Kraken appears and the blood mist rises. I am the greatest storm under heaven."