Chapter 70 - Tully, Tyrells & Taming IV

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Inside Highgarden.

Thud!

Thud!

"This is madness! How can a man be this cruel? There are women and children in the castle!" Garlan Tyrell, the second son of Mace Tyrell slammed the table with his fist in rage. Looks similar to Loras, but taller, broader, and bearded, he held the fierce face of a trained warrior. "Don't stop me, Willas. I'll lead the men out and fight them. It's better than to sit here and die."

Willas Tyrell, the eldest son of Mace, crippled on one leg, remained seated. Unlike his brother, he was calm and collected. "Isn't this what we did to Storm's End during the rebellion? This is how sieges go, Garlan."

"Then let me fight!"

"With that? The moment our soldiers leave the castle they will change sides. The Baratheons, the Crownlands, King's Unsullied, and the Lannisters are out there—thirty thousand men, Garlan. It's not a battle we can win. Our only hope now is the hawk I sent." Willas calmly assured, having some hope.

But Garlan had none. "He hasn't descended in more than a decade. Why would he now?"

"He must because we have something to offer."

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After yet another warm, cuddling night with Arya, Joffrey entered the third day of the siege. He hoped to make this the last day as they began to completely cut off the water entering the castle. At the same time, the bombardment of the scorpions began hitting the innermost wall of the castle.

If anyone had half a brain they knew that after the wall, the castle would be next. The people in the castle were running out of time and the King's patience.

"Your Grace!"

Joffrey looked at the panting scout. The man jumped down from the horse before even stopping. "M-Men approaching from further west of Roseroad. There are fifty of them, they fly the sigil of a white tower topped with flames!"

"Hightower?" Joffrey stood up and annoyedly picked up his far-eye to look. But since the road extended beyond and around Highgarden, it was impossible to see anything.

Thud!

Right then, a few horses arrived at his camp from the North side. It was Tywin with a dozen soldiers by his side.

"It's Leyton," Tywin announced just as he stepped off the horse and sternly voiced. "My scouts informed me. A golden carriage the size of a small cottage pulled by six horses—it's him."

Leyton Hightower, also known as the Old Man of Oldtown, the current Lord of the Hightower and the head of the House Hightower. The man had too many titles to remember.

"Now he decides to come out of his tower? After a decade?" Joffrey cursed under his heart. There were a few men he couldn't afford to offend or disrespect. One of them was Tywin, and the other was Leyton. Not because he was weak, but because the two old men were widely respected. Offending them was similar to annoying most other houses in the region.

"Be cautious with him," Tywin advised, his tone cold and measured. It was no small thing for Tywin Lannister to speak of caution. "Rumor has it he spent years in Hightower, pouring over magic books with his daughter, Malora. If he's coming here now, it's not without purpose."

Joffrey sighed. "He should return if he's here to save the Tyrells."

Tywin didn't add anything to that. Nobody knew why the old man came out of his self-imposed seclusion all of a sudden. If anything, Leyton should be too old now to come out, let alone travel.

No matter what, Joffrey ordered his men to continue the siege. Then he turned to his loyal Golden Legion commander. "Ser Arthur, use the fifth formation."

"Legion!" Ser Arthur roared immediately.

Slightly over three thousand men instantly changed their positions and formed a matrix around Joffrey's royal tent, keeping him in the center. All the men raised their golden spears and shields, ready to defend.

In reality, this formation was only meant for intimidation, not attack or defense.

Sometime later, the truly colossal carriage of Leyton Hightower appeared coming towards Joffrey's camp. With that, the bombardment of scorpions on the castle stopped as the carriage was in the way.

Soon enough, the carriage stopped near the camp. The Unsullied soldiers didn't move an inch, turning the air tense. The Hightower knights felt it too and quickly surrounded the carriage.

"Make way," Joffrey ordered.

"Legion!"

In a display of unmatched discipline, the Unsullied men parted into two groups, forming a long passage between them that went from the carriage, straight to Joffrey.

No movement came after that. Joffrey stayed in place, arms folded behind. The carriage didn't move either.

Does he want me to approach him? This old fucker.

Clack!

Finally, the carriage's door opened. A man stepped out first, young and smart, tall. Tywin informed him that this was Leyton's youngest son.

The same son then reached into the carriage and lent his hand inside. Soon enough, a frail, shivering arm appeared, followed by a tall, old man as thin as a stick. His head was full of shoulder-length white hair, his face covered in countless wrinkles. The man didn't look much different from a wraith.

At that point, Joffrey sighed and walked forward. What if the old fucker died while just trying to reach him? He thought.

"No need to come out, Lord Hightower. Please remain seated." Joffrey graciously, loudly allowed.

Humfrey Hightower, Leyton's youngest son, vigilantly looked at Joffrey, but soon bowed his head and greeted him as a King should be.

"My King, forgive an old man his frailty," Leyton Hightower rasped, his voice thin, barely above a whisper. "Were these bones younger, I'd be on my knees before you... but age has its limits."

His eyes can't lie. Joffrey saw the brightness, the shrewdness in the old man's gaze.

"Please, I invite you to have a seat in my carriage, Your Grace. I've come with purpose… and there are matters we must discuss," Leyton requested, his words breaking every now and then, almost sounding gibberish.

What does he want?

"Just us?" Joffrey gave Humfrey a look.

The old man nodded at his son. Right away, Humfrey stepped away from the carriage, along with all the other knights that were close to the door or the window of the carriage.

Seeing that, Joffrey climbed into the utterly magnificent, lavish carriage. Inside it was two sets of seats, facing each other, covered in soft velvet. There was a table on the side with a variety of fruits and jars of various wines and whatnot.

I'll have one of these made. Traveling with women will be quite enjoyable then.

Thud!

Joffrey closed the door once he sat down on the opposite seat. He relaxed back, keeping the air of King on himself while staring back at the frail old man. He said nothing, nor did Leyton. They silently stared into each other's eyes for no reason.

What's he doing? I'm not into men.

"I received Willas' hawk."

Joffrey nodded. "Does that change anything?"

"You can't spare them?" Leyton asked directly.

Joffrey made his displeasure clear with his expressions. "They tried to kill me, Lord Hightower. At my own wedding, no less; with one of their Tyrell women. First, they backed the Targaryens and failed. Now, they stood by their greed. And as I recall, didn't House Hightower support Renly?"

Indeed, Hightower did support Renly. It wasn't even a secret.

"I was but asking, Your Grace. No need for ire, none at all. Truth be told, their House holds no favor in my heart, never has. I didn't come to save them. I came here to get something that's inside that castle." Leyton revealed, grabbing a small grape to chew on at the same time. "I don't want that castle burnt down, especially not the books within."

Joffrey was intrigued by that. "What is it that made you descend the tower after a decade?"

"Tomes of the Targaryens, yes... Ancient, brimming with magic," Leyton murmured, his voice thin as parchment, eyes distant. "They hold lives, thoughts... dreams, visions. I've read them, high in my tower these past ten years, seeking... Always seeking. They speak of dragon dreams, but I see prophecies within their shadows. And there's one thread that binds them all... fear. From Aegon to Rhaegar... Fear of something dark, something... unknown."

Joffrey's expression changed at those words. A little shocked, a little amused, and a little tense. Hightowers have long been involved with the Targaryens. No wonder he had the tomes.

"Ah! I see it in your face. You know something?" Leyton's gaze was sharp despite his age. "Yes, yes… The burden of the throne lives on. The legacy of the Targaryen blood continues. Renly, that fool spewed venom into your blood."

What? Joffrey felt slightly annoyed. He didn't have a spec of Baratheon blood in him, hence no blood of Targaryens.

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