The five towers of Harrenhal certainly needed to be renamed.
After taking Harrenhal, Mace had chosen the Tower of the King as his residence.
Harren the Black, the first lord of Harrenhal, had died there, and the tower had earned its name from that grim history.
Although the tower had been scorched by dragonfire, its interior facilities remained largely intact.
There was naturally no problem with a lord being lodged there.
But Viserys was a king, and having him reside in the Tower of the King did not seem particularly auspicious.
So Randyll suggested finding somewhere else for him to stay.
"Have you forgotten that I was reborn in the flames? A true dragon does not fear fire."
Viserys spoke with a hint of pride, and the others immediately abandoned their concerns.
Accompanied by a group of followers, Viserys entered the great hall of the Tower of the King.
Though the exterior had been scorched by the Black Dread, the interior remained remarkably well preserved.
The hall in particular was even larger than the throne room in Gohor.
It was practically large enough to play a game of football inside.
When Harren the Black had built Harrenhal, he had followed one simple principle: bigger was better.
With only a handful of people inside, the hall seemed almost unnaturally empty.
It was here, in 101 AC, that Jaehaerys I had summoned the lords of the Seven Kingdoms for the Great Council to settle the question of his succession.
Nearly every major noble in the realm had attended, and even then they had only just managed to fill the place.
Now there were only Viserys and a few nobles from the Reach, and even their voices carried echoes through the enormous chamber.
Viserys sat at the front, listening as Mace reported on the Reach army's next military objectives.
"Your Grace, we brought sixty thousand men with us this time.
The surrounding noble houses are weakly defended, so we intend to seize Stoney Sept and attack Golden Tooth.
That will allow us to block reinforcements from the Westerlands while securing the Riverlands.
Once that happens, a great number of riverlords will surely switch sides and renew their allegiance to House Targaryen."
Viserys studied the map.
He understood that sixty thousand men was a substantial force, but in the end they could only hope to control a number of strategically important positions.
"Go to the Crossing as well and ask old Walder to join us. I doubt he'll refuse."
Randyll had little affection for the "late-arriving lord," but if the forces of the Crossing were willing to join them, they would provide considerable strength.
More importantly, they could cut off any possibility of the North marching south to reinforce the enemy.
After some further discussion, the atmosphere in the great hall became almost cheerful.
Before long, Mace asked the question he cared about most.
"May I ask when Your Grace intends to return to Westeros?"
It had to be said that House Targaryen had been extraordinarily unfortunate.
The dynasty had reached the height of its power, with more dragons and dragonriders than at any other time, only to be torn apart by a bloody civil war.
With a capable king at their head, they could surely cross the Narrow Sea and expand into the Free Cities.
At the very least, they could finally crush the Triarchy, that perpetually troublesome minor power.
It was, after all, the same Triarchy that had nearly sold Viserys II to a brothel in Lys to work as a whore.
Now Viserys had conquered the Dothraki grasslands and annexed Pentos.
More recently, he had set his sights on Braavos.
In the future, he might very well turn his attention toward Volantis and the Triarchy's southern cities as well.
That was also one of the concerns of the "Queen of Thorns," the old Rose.
If Viserys became too ambitious, life for the lords of the Seven Kingdoms might become rather difficult.
But Viserys did not answer Mace's question directly. Instead, he changed the subject.
"Lord Mace, several years ago I instructed the Reach to accumulate as much grain as possible.
How much have you managed to stockpile?"
"Grain? Your Grace, rest assured. We have enough to feed the entire Reach for five or six years!"
Though Mace had no idea why the king had suddenly brought this up, he answered honestly.
"That is still too little. In my view, you should have enough to feed the entire Reach for five or six years.
Better yet, enough to feed all of Westeros for five or six years."
"Your Grace, surely that's..."
Such enormous stockpiles would inevitably lead to substantial waste.
If Viserys had not insisted upon it, they would already have considered their current reserves burdensome.
Viserys felt that the time was right and spoke solemnly.
"The Long Night may be approaching. Food production will soon decline.
As nobles, we cannot afford to think only of ourselves. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Your Grace is absolutely right," Mace hurriedly replied.
In truth, most lords did not particularly care about their smallfolk.
During famine and disaster, the peasants would simply have to find their own way to survive.
As long as the lord shut the castle gates, there was little else he needed to worry about.
Perhaps the great lords would occasionally show mercy because their wealth allowed it.
But it was certainly not considered their obligation.
Still, when the king ordered them to store more grain, it could hardly be called an unreasonable demand.
Samwell, standing nearby, felt a surge of respect for Viserys.
He might have been timid and fond of food, but even Samwell could see that this was a king who took responsibility for his people seriously.
"As for when I will return to Westeros, once I have dealt with the Free Cities, I will bring the army back.
After all, the bloodline of the usurper still sits upon the Iron Throne."
Although Viserys was in no hurry to reclaim the Iron Throne, he still needed to give the lords some reassurance.
With that promise, the meeting essentially came to an end.
As a great lord, Mace was perfectly capable of arranging an extravagant feast even while away from Highgarden.
Compared with military affairs, he was clearly far more talented at throwing parties.
Unable to find any truly distinguished musicians, he instead gathered more than a dozen traveling singers and had them compete against one another.
He showed not the slightest awareness that they were currently in the middle of a war.
Viserys suddenly realized that perhaps there was a reason Mace had spent more than half a year failing to take Storm's End.
Perhaps he had been throwing parties in the camp every single day.
But that was simply how the system worked in Westeros, or perhaps in the entire world.
Viserys decided that he would remind Randyll about it later and leave Mace to his own devices.
After the feast came a private gathering.
Mace brought Garlan to pay a private visit to Viserys.
He also brought his daughter, the girl known as the "Rose of Highgarden," Margaery Tyrell.
Amber-colored eyes and brown-gold hair complemented her every graceful movement, each gesture revealing the bearing of a noblewoman.
Margaery was still somewhat youthful, however. She had yet to fully bloom into the dazzling rose she would one day become.
But when she learned that she would have an opportunity to meet the king, she had privately done her homework.
She concluded that she should focus the conversation on dragons and war.
Viserys ought to enjoy those two subjects.
"Your Grace, I've noticed that it is cooler when standing somewhere high than when standing on level ground.
You fly so high when riding your dragon. Doesn't it get cold up there?"
Margaery's question was carefully chosen.
It appealed to Viserys's desire to boast while subtly conveying her concern for him.
As expected from someone trained by the old Rose, she was different from ordinary girls.
"The dragon's body is warm, so it isn't particularly cold in the sky. But the view really is different from up there. Would you like to see it?"
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