The night was cold. Today, the Iron Throne had dealt with three great powers in Oldtown in a single stroke. Both Oldtown and the Iron Islands were about to be turned upside down.
House Greyjoy had fallen from Kings of the Iron Islands to mere chiefs of Pyke, while House Hightower of Oldtown had fallen from one of The Reach's dominant powers to just one of Oldtown's stewards. The sheer scale of that collapse was enough to leave anyone speechless.
In the past, only Tywin Lannister had ever shown such ruthlessness, back when he destroyed the great Westerlands houses of Tarbeck and House Reyne.
And now, before the unprecedentedly powerful Storm Dragonlord, on the road to preserving absolute authority, the Stag was just as unforgiving.
Fourteen proud standard-bearers in silver armor and gold robes marched at the very front, the royal yellow quartered banner hanging from their Longspears.
Gendry and Daenerys left the square of the Great Starry Sept, with the other high advisers following close behind.
The Kingsguard formed two lines, followed by the squires, the elite guards in black armor and gold robes, elite knights, and the Unsullied.
The night wind was bitterly cold. All that remained was the sight of those hideous, tar-drenched heads mounted on the Longspears of sinners, along with the stench of blood and Kraken.
The stone beasts, the sphinx colossus, and the carcasses of the Blood Kraken and little Krakens laid out across the square silently proclaimed the king's dazzling victories.
Marching on Oldtown and breaking the combined Iron Islands and Hightower forces under Crow's Eye Euron was equal to cutting down two kings in a row. If the foundations of House Hightower were counted, the resources controlled by Leyton Hightower rivaled those of a king.
"There is still something strange about that Blood Kraken's corpse. Tell the soldiers not to get too close," Gendry ordered.
Gendry suspected there might still be Bloodstones inside the Blood Kraken's corpse.
"Understood, Your Grace."
"Of all the warriors of the Seven Kingdoms, there is only the Storm!" Lord Jack Kleber suddenly shouted, raising his fist as large as a bowl.
"Only the Storm!" Even the most exacting Red Viper, Oberyn Martell, accepted it now. Fully convinced, he joined Lord Jack's cheers.
The Red Viper had once claimed that the warriors of Dorne were as countless as grains of sand, yet only one man stood above them all.
But flesh and blood could not compare with a cheating "demigod," and Oberyn had expected as much.
This was no ordinary Storm. This was Storm, Dragonlord, and Pyromancer all in one.
The unruly Kraken, the proud High Tower. Next would be the beleaguered lion.
"The legendary knight! The legendary knight!"
"Sword of Morning! Dragonlord Storm! Long live the king!"
"Long live the Triumphant One! Long live the king!"
"Long live the Triumphant One!"
The warriors erupted into fierce cheers, wave after wave.
The people gave Gendry praise like never before, for the king seemed like the embodiment of the Warrior and the Smith, invincible in battle.
The crowd cheered wildly as they watched Gendry and his wife depart.
"You..." Randyll Tarly passed by Baelor Hightower, glanced at him, then could not help but lower his voice. "Ah, this is not your fault, but you still have to keep Hightower alive..."
With that reminder, he swept away.
In terms of kinship, since Leyton had married his fourth wife, Randyll could still be considered Baelor's uncle-in-law.
Then Ser Garlan Tyrell, draped in a green brocade robe, passed by his uncle, Lord Baelor Hightower, whose face looked withered and lifeless.
"Uncle," Garlan said softly.
"Go, Garlan. Let me be alone for a while." Lord Baelor shook his head.
Though Leyton had already told him the most sorrowful ending, knowing it and experiencing it for himself were not the same thing.
"Be careful in all things, Uncle." Garlan opened his mouth, very much wanting to urge Uncle Baelor to understand the situation.
But it felt too cruel, so he said nothing more.
A great house like Hightower had deep roots and many branches, but distant relatives who had split off were of little use.
Often, once the main branch collapsed, the whole house collapsed with it.
House Stark and House Arryn were different. Their main lines were few, but their distant branches had spread everywhere.
Take House Gardener, the original masters of Highgarden. They were an ancient and noble legendary house, no worse than Hightower.
Yet in the Field of Fire, the Greenhand King dragged them all out in one wave and sent them to their deaths.
King Mern Gardener IX, along with his sons, grandsons, brothers, cousins, and kin, was reduced to ash beneath Dragonfire. Only one nephew survived for three days. After that man finally died of his burns, House Gardener vanished for good.
With such a precedent before him, Garlan feared those blind Hightowers would recklessly rush forward all at once.
Under Dragonfire, if the Hightower main line died, Hightower would truly be extinct.
"I will, Garlan," Baelor said.
In the recent upheaval in Oldtown, Hightower had lost four members of the main line in succession.
Lord Leyton, the Madwoman Malora, and Garlan's two younger brothers, Gunthor and Garth.
Not only had Oldtown been destroyed, the family itself had withered. Baelor could not help feeling bitter.
Only now did Baelor understand the stunned despair Eddard Stark must have felt. After one great upheaval, nearly everyone in the family was dead.
"Then I'll go first, Uncle." Garlan bowed and took his leave. Tyrell had to adapt to King Gendry's new chessboard.
After Hightower was broken, the new divisions of power began to take shape. It just so happened that the great houses would control it together.
From a practical standpoint, Hightower had been badly weakened, and that was not entirely a bad thing for Tyrell.
Garlan himself knew that although House Hightower and House Tyrell were bound by marriage, the Lord of the High Tower had always kept himself proudly aloof. No one could command him.
If Hightower raised its armies, it could summon thirty or forty thousand men, but the master of the High Tower preferred growing rich through trade and had no interest in meddling in war.
"Lord Baelor, take care."
"Lord Baelor!"
Lord Valen Beesbury and Lord Tommen Costayne bowed to Baelor.
But these vassals no longer carried the same heavy restraint they once had. Although Hightower was still their lord, it had fallen into decline at last.
Hightower was now on the same level as its vassals, so there was no need for them to hold themselves back so carefully.
Lord Baelor greeted them with great difficulty.
The two lords said nothing more. Such a change in status was only natural. They would get used to it.
From now on, they were all stewards of Oldtown.
After the important figures left, many of the onlookers who had gathered for the spectacle still did not disperse. Today, Oldtown had given them no shortage of drama.
"From today on, the power of the noble houses in The Reach is going to change completely."
"That's right. Without House Hightower, the uncrowned king of old, only House Tyrell, House Redwyne, and House Rowan will remain."
People continued murmuring among themselves, still unsatisfied.
The four strongest houses of The Reach had always been considered House Tyrell of Highgarden, House Hightower of Oldtown, House Redwyne of the Arbor, and House Rowan of Goldengrove.
Although Hightower was a vassal, many believed that its depth of strength and web of marriage alliances made it the true hidden first power, the uncrowned king.
It possessed the bustling city of Oldtown, as well as the richest lands of the southwestern cape.
But starting today, all of that had come to an end.
Some people were still studying the strange relics left in the square and the lingering traces of the king's sword strike. Most of them were knights, squires, Maesters, apprentices, and servants.
"Pig Herder" Pate and "Sphinx" Sarella ran together to the place where the male Sphinx statue had been cut down by the long sword. The enormous Sphinx, its head damaged, had been split in two.
The cut through the green Sphinx was smooth as a mirror. One could imagine how sharp and cold the swordsman's blade must have been, finishing it in a single stroke.
The knights and apprentices watching nearby clicked their tongues in wonder.
"As expected of King Gendry. Born with divine strength, the greatest in the Seven Kingdoms."
"It isn't only the king's strength. It has to be because of that legendary magic sword, Just Maid. There seemed to be a layer of sword-light over the blade, as if the edge had suddenly extended by several feet. That was the only way it could cut through such a huge beast. Otherwise, a sword five or six feet long could never have done it."
Sarella moved closer to examine it. It might have been the combined effect of both forces.
Gendry was known as the greatest knight in the Seven Kingdoms, and on top of that, he had the blue magic sword, Just Maid.
"This doesn't look like human strength." "Pig Herder" Pate studied it again and again. The Faceless Men practiced the arts of the gutter, but they would never possess such heaven-defying power.
For such a massive green Sphinx colossus, no ordinary person with an ordinary sword could possibly cut it in half with one stroke.
Not even a skilled swordsman with a Valyrian steel sword could do it. Only magic could.
It was terrifying to imagine what would happen if that sword-light struck a human body.
"Before, I only knew that Storm Gendry had extraordinary strength. Now it seems he is not only a Dragonrider, but also has the mysterious power of a Pyromancer and runic magic." "Pig Herder" Pate reasoned it through. It was not only the material of Just Maid, but also the magic upon Just Maid, that coiling blue sword-light.
As "Pig Herder" Pate listened to the knights cheering, his heart tightened with unease. "With morale like this, the war machine of Westeros is rumbling into motion. But the Long Night is coming. Perhaps Braavos's misfortune will come later?"
"Strength, Dragonrider, Pyromancer, and that magic sword as well. Dangerous. Too dangerous. I need to send a warning to the Kindly Man."
With that thought, "Pig Herder" Pate turned and left, saying farewell to Sarella.
"Take care," Sarella said, watching the golden Storm disappear.
...
Inside the great tent, Gendry slowly began taking stock of his spoils of war, with Daenerys nestled in his arms.
War was cruel, but the fruits of victory were so sweet.
Whether the barren, savage Iron Islands or the fertile cape of Oldtown, both were now in his hands.
There was also the towering High Tower that pierced the clouds, with vast wealth and gold stored beneath it. The Iron Fleet of the Ironborn had plundered no small amount of treasure as well, and now most of it would be taken by the royal family.
War was risky, but it was also an excellent way to accumulate wealth.
Robbing money was faster than earning it.
"You're saying we were people who fled from far away to Valyria City?"
"Yes. Descendants of the Great Empire of the Dawn. Back then, before the Bloodstone Emperor brought about the Long Night, you may have already fled. Pearls, amethysts, bloodstones, and opals were all colors of eyes, and yours are violet."
"How incredible." Daenerys's eyes widened. "The Great Empire of the Dawn, even more mysterious than the Dragonlord."
"The Great Empire of the Dawn fell, and then came the Valyrian Empire. In any case, there has never been any shortage of gods or the will of magic."
"Is that why you want to concentrate power?"
"Yes. Clench the fist."
"The Hightowers have caused plenty of trouble throughout history. Only by weakening and uprooting them do I think things will be right."
"Mm." Daenerys nodded too. She had heard those stories.
The Dance of the Dragons. The war between the Blacks and the Greens.
In the early days of the Targaryen dynasty, Oldtown caused more trouble than any other house.
At the time, Oldtown was the foremost city and port, as well as the home of the Citadel, the center of science, and the Great Starry Sept, the center of the Faith.
The High Tower had sunk its roots deep into the rich southwestern cape, with five lord-level vassal houses beneath it, not to mention its in-laws, House Redwyne.
A threefold behemoth like House Hightower could not be taken lightly. They often used the horn of the Church to vex the Targaryen dynasty, and even though the Dragonlords knew it, they could not simply overturn the table.
During the Dance of the Dragons, House Hightower even entered the field in person, the only time they joined a bloody civil war.
But aside from having abundant wealth, they were hopeless at war.
Generations of comfort had held the Hightowers back.
Because others feared the consequences of striking them, the Hightowers had managed to stand all this time.
"Now, Hightower has fallen. Such vast power in the hands of a pack of scheming petty men was far too frightening."
"Next will be the Lannisters," Daenerys said, hope in her eyes.
Gendry nodded and held his wife's hand. "Store the spoils properly, fight the war against the Lannisters well, and then we can face the Long Winter."
Gendry looked at the Valyrian steel armor stripped from Crow's Eye Euron Greyjoy.
It was a one-of-a-kind suit of black scale armor, dark as smoke and as light to wear as a silk tunic. The edges of the scales were red gold, flashing with light whenever it moved.
The metal was decorated with patterns. Whorls, glyphs, and mysterious symbols, all etched into the steel.
Such a thing had only appeared more than four hundred years ago, before Valyria's Doom. Even then, it had been worth a kingdom.
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