Oldtown City Hall, VIP parlor.
"This water is excellent," Arthur remarked, sipping chilled lemon water while quietly admiring the Hightowers' signature style.
Two words summed it up: sticking together.
Sticking together was the ultimate answer to reshaping dynastic politics—even the greatest star players needed a team.
The Dragon dynasty had seen four legendary grand alliances in its history.
The Dance of the Dragons. The Blackfyre Rebellions.
Aegon the Fifth's ascension. The Usurper's Coalition.
The Targaryens might have been powerful, but they only truly controlled the Crownlands and Dragonstone. Everything else belonged to the Seven Kingdoms' great houses.
During the Dance, aside from the true dragon bloodline itself:
The Greens were led by the Hightowers, who pulled in the Westerlands Lannisters and the Stormlands Baratheons, even forging ties with the Triarchy across the Narrow Sea. Ser Myles Hightower, a Hightower cousin, had even stolen a fortune in royal gold.
The Blacks rallied behind the Sea Snake, along with the Starks, Arryns, and later the Tullys and the Riverlands boys.
That power split lasted a long time, and the Blacks enjoyed quite a honeymoon period. The Sea Snake, Oakenshield, "the Old Man of the North" Cregan Stark, "Bloody" Ben Blackwood, and House Arryn all upheld the rule of the Dragon's children.
Cregan's heir Rickon even died outside Sunspear fighting for the Young Dragon.
The Velaryons suffered worst of all—their buffer zone was too small. Once they lost their exceptional leaders and their great fleet, the Stepstones wars bled them dry. Driftmark was the first Great House to decline, and seemingly the only one.
Later came the Dornish union, the Usurper's endless sowing of wild oats, the Blackfyre Rebellions, and "the King Who Should Not Have Been"—Aegon the Fifth—taking the throne.
The Targaryen alliance shifted into the dragon-lion-stag tripod, stabilized by Aegon V's repeated failed marriage schemes.
Back then, Tywin's grandfather, "the Golden Lion" Gerold, was drowning in kinslaying scandal and desperately needed the Iron Throne's endorsement. He bribed half the Westerlands lords with gold at the Great Council to help Aegon V win.
Meanwhile, "the Laughing Storm" was an old friend of both Aegon V and "Tall" Duncan, fighting for Duncan during the Trial of the Seven.
"The two great Green houses returned to the dragon fold. When the dragon-lion-stag spear alliance formed a second time, the fish-wolf-falcon bloc that once belonged to the Blacks suddenly needed new friends. And greedy Rickard Stark just happened to be obsessed with marching south—the perfect kindling for the fire."
When dragons still lived, even dragonlords had to court blood kin and allies.
How much more so after the dragons were gone.
Even if a dragonrider was in a class of his own, allies remained crucial.
"Turning the heavens and earth, weaving alliances in every direction," Arthur thought with a sigh.
The grand chess game that toppled the dragonlords—the ultimate team-up.
House Whent was only a second-tier powerhouse, Rhaegar's glove, never one of the true top-tier players.
The Hightowers, even if they weren't direct movers on the board, were definitely the ones fanning the flames from the shadows.
When it came to culture, learning, and historical depth, every other Great House looked like illiterates next to the Hightowers.
The Hightowers wielded the pen like masters, while their battlefield record was mediocre—perfect breeding ground for schemers.
"Treacherous Hightowers—never to be trusted. No wonder Highgarden both courts and guards against them. Give me time… I'll pry open the foundation of this tower," Arthur thought.
It wasn't that he was cruel; the Hightowers' secrets and wealth were simply too tempting.
While Arthur and his retainers sipped their drinks, the Hightower reception party finally arrived—one young man and one young woman, another brother-sister pair.
The eighth Hightower child, Lord Leyton's youngest daughter, Lynesse.
Sixteen years old and breathtakingly beautiful.
Golden hair cascading down her back, skin as white as milk, soft hands that had clearly never known labor. Still unmarried.
The ninth child, Lord Leyton's third son, Gunthor Hightower.
Roughly Arthur's age, a refined and handsome youth in silver robes—an acolyte of the Citadel.
Arthur hadn't expected to meet Lynesse, but it made sense. Noble girls weren't kept locked away; they attended tourneys, flew falcons, and sometimes served as official greeters.
"Good day, Lord Arthur, Ser Lucas. Forgive us for keeping you waiting," Lynesse said with perfect courtesy.
The girl truly was stunning—no wonder she had later driven both Jorah the Bear and the Prince of Lys to distraction.
Still, her position was awkward. She wasn't the eldest or even the second daughter, so her marriage value was far lower.
"My deepest apologies," Gunthor added. "My elder brother Ser Baelor is receiving a delegation of merchants, and my second brother Ser Garth is drilling the city watch. Only my sister and I could come. Please forgive the discourtesy."
The siblings neatly ignored their father, Lord Leyton.
"Good day, Lady Lynesse, Lord Gunthor. I was hoping to inquire about a suitable ocean-going ship. Once we leave Oldtown, we wish to sail directly to Starfall," Arthur replied politely.
There was no need to stand on ceremony with these two younger Hightowers. They were peripheral; the real secrets likely belonged only to Leyton and the Mad Maid.
"Then you've come to the right person," Gunthor said proudly, clearly pleased with himself. "I've been studying hydrology and navigation at the Citadel, along with the Summer Islander tongue. There happens to be an excellent swan ship from the Summer Islands available—though you'll need to wait two days while they finish loading cargo."
Professional and on-brand. Gunthor was destined to oversee Oldtown's docks one day.
"While you wait, feel free to tour the city," Lynesse added with a sweet smile. "The Starry Sept and the foreign septs are both magnificent."
"Excellent," Arthur said, genuinely pleased.
There was no reason to linger in Oldtown anyway—Starfall was the true destination.
"The Summer Islander language is quite the scholarly pursuit," Ser Lucas praised.
"It is rather difficult, but Oldtown has a large Summer Islander community, and the Citadel offers every convenience," Gunthor said, warming to the topic and eager to impress.
After all, he was still young and liked showing off.
But when he noticed the half-amused, half-strained expressions on Lucas Dayne and Lucas Roote, Gunthor wisely stopped bragging.
Scholarly acolytes always got that look from battle-hardened knights—especially when the knight in question was the rising star of the Seven Kingdoms' tourney circuit.
Some people just have all the luck, Gunthor thought ruefully.
After a few more polite exchanges, Lynesse and Gunthor arranged lodging for Arthur's party in the VIP guesthouse beside the city hall and took their leave.
The Hightower siblings stepped out of the parlor and headed toward a flower barge moored outside, preparing to return to the Hightower.
"Sister, Lord Arthur is exceptionally handsome and already one of the finest young squires in the realm. Harrenhal is also extremely wealthy—he would make an excellent marriage match," Gunthor whispered.
"He's rich and arrogant, which is exactly why he won't choose me," Lynesse replied with a calm smile. "Did you not see his eyes? They're full of steel and fire. What he wants is power. If I were the eldest daughter he would pursue me eagerly, but I'm only the youngest."
"How could that be?" Gunthor asked, surprised.
"Nothing is impossible. Men crave land and power too. Lord Leyton has ten children. Father ensures we live comfortably, but he only truly values the first four born to his first wife—Baelor, Malora, Alerie, and Garth."
Lynesse gave a soft snort. "Those four are one group. The three of us younger ones share a different mother."
"I…" Gunthor fell silent. She was right.
Leyton had four wives, yet only the first four children from his first wife received his real attention.
Even though Leyton had withdrawn from public life, everything was arranged with precision.
Baelor managed Oldtown and was married to a Rowan.
Malora studied magic atop the tower.
Alerie had married Lord Mace Tyrell.
Garth drilled the troops.
As for the rest of the children, Leyton barely spared them a thought.
With the Hightower name, they would never lack marriage prospects anyway.
"You're not a girl, Gunthor. Your brothers treat you well; you'll guard the docks for them. Girls must consider suitable matches. But Baelor already has his own children, Father no longer concerns himself with such matters, and the most ambitious people are not fools," Lynesse said.
"So who would you want?" Gunthor asked, confused.
"I don't know yet. Even the best marriages among our middle sisters only reached lords like Lord Ambrose or landed knights," Lynesse admitted. "Whoever it is, I simply need to secure my future."