Harmony

We said our farewells to the Mander and continued our journey south, passing Dunstonbury along the way.

Soon, we reached the Honeywine, a significant river flowing through the southwestern region of the Reach. It was rumored that the fertile valleys along the Honeywine constituted the agricultural heart of not just the Reach, but the entire continent.

Enchanted by the river's allure, we veered off the roseroad and embraced the journey alongside its meandering banks. Our footsteps guided us to Honeyholt, the time-honored seat of House Beesbury. Continuing our sojourn, we encountered a celebrated inn known as The Quill and Tankard, perched gracefully on an island nestled within the very heart of the Honeywine.

If the tavern keeper's honesty could be relied upon, The Quill and Tankard had stood for around 400 years. I found myself on its torchlit terrace, accompanied by squad Asher, who had emerged victorious in a training exercise that day.

I savored a mug of the inn's famous cider, renowned for its potent strength. It was in this setting that I had the opportunity to engage in conversations with aspiring scholars, all striving to earn their chain at the Citadel.

From prodigies who had acquired four links in their first year to seasoned men who had yet to forge even one, listening to their experiences filled me with inspiration, and I could almost smell the musk of the great library from there.

When the day arrived for our march upon Oldtown, our escort, led by Ser Bryndon Hightower with his longaxe slung behind his back, rode out to meet us.

Sundance had taken flight alongside Rhaenyra and Syrax when they departed from Highgarden, and since then, he had not returned. The possibility existed that he had flown all the way back home, although such a scenario was highly unlikely.

Sundance's days of confinement within the dark depths of the dragonpit were long behind him. Free from those oppressive confines, he and showed no inclination to revert to a life of chains and cramped darkness.

I speculated that if he ventured far, he would seek one of the bolt holes where Lords had designated livestock for my specific purposes. Sundance had always remained within close proximity, never straying too far from my location.

"Prince Rhaenar," Ser Bryndon said atop his noble steed, "It is an honor to receive you."

"The honor is mine," I replied. "A fine morning, if ever I saw one!"

As we trotted along the cobbled roads and bridges, the grandeur of the city unfolded before us. The Hightower, tall and commanding, welcomed us from miles away.

"Amazing," I exclaimed. "It's even more towering than I had imagined."

"Yes, my Prince," Ser Bryndon replied. "You grow accustomed to it. Those born and raised here can tell the time of day by the shadow cast from the tower."

"Tell me, Ser," I inquired, "Are you familiar with its lore?"

"I am no maester, but I know my fair share," he said.

"I was curious. Oldtown is the largest and oldest city in Westeros, so ancient that its founding remains shrouded in mystery."

"You speak true, my Prince," Ser Bryndon acknowledged. "The exact date of its establishment is still a subject of debate."

"There was a maester who claimed to have lived among the children of the forest in those distant days. What was his name again, Brien?"

"Maester Jellicoe," Brien chimed in. "According to his account, Oldtown originated as a trading post at the mouth of the Whispering Sound. Ships from the Summer Isles, Valyria, and even as far as Old Ghis would anchor there to resupply."

"That would place the founding of Oldtown in the Dawn Age," I mused, "preceding the arrival of the First Men."

"The timeline may need revision," Brien interjected. "We have discovered First Men runes in the area that also date back to the Dawn Age."

Ser Bryndon scratched his head. "It may very well be as you say. My apologies, I am not well-versed in these matters."

"No need to apologize, good Ser," I reassured him. "Nevertheless, Oldtown is a captivating city. For instance, the stony island on which the Hightower stands — why do our oldest records refer to it as 'Battle Isle'? Something significant must have transpired to warrant such a name, yet its details elude us."

"If you ask me," Brien offered, "I believe it is related to the fortress that encompasses the isle. A square stronghold crafted from solid, glossy black rock. The material itself bears resemblance to the black roads of the Valyrian Freehold or the black walls of Old Volantis. Legends suggest that this rock was forged with the aid of dragonfire."

"That presents a paradox," I pondered. "Our scholars generally agree that the Dawn Age flourished around 12,000 years ago, whereas the Valyrian Freehold emerged roughly 5,000 years ago. That leaves thousands of years where the knowledge and technology to create black stone existed before its alleged discovery by the Valyrians. Did they invent that technology again by themselves, or did they stumble upon lost knowledge? "

Brien hummed thoughtfully.

"In any case, if dragonfire is indeed necessary for the creation of this stone, it implies the existence of dragons in Westeros prior to the Targaryens.

"Consider the Valyrian architecture we know: intricate carvings on their black stone structures, ornamental and distinctive in style. Take Dragonstone, for instance, its gargoyles… Yet, the square fortress in Oldtown lacks any such carvings or embellishments. It is a plain, sleek expanse of black rock."

"So much to ponder," I said, "I can't wait to see the Citadel."

"You could live a hundred years and still barely scratch the surface of its great wealth of knowledge," Brien said.

I chuckled, "Let's hope we don't need that long to find what we're looking for."

As we ventured into Oldtown, the grand mass of white stone unfolded before us. Every thoroughfare was cobbled and echoed the hooves of our horses. Towering stone bridges, some weathered by time and others resolute in their wooden frames, spanned the city's many waterways.

Oldtown's streets revealed a labyrinthine network of wynds; alleys that crisscrossed and intersected like a web of secrets. We navigated through narrow crookbacked streets, where the bustling markets beckoned with a vibrant energy.

"Why do they call it the Thieves Market?" I inquired.

Ser Bryndon chuckled. "An old moniker, my Prince. Rest assured, our market is as safe as any in the Seven Kingdoms."

The air in Oldtown carried a distinct scent, as if the very essence of flowers had permeated every nook and cranny.

Along our path, we encountered a myriad of plant life. Reaching from my horse, I plucked a pomegranate from a tree that lined the road.

Moonbloom, a native flower of Oldtown, scattered the surroundings, and the Nightshades captivated with their poisonous yet striking beauty.

Guildhalls lined the western bank of the Honeywine as we made our way towards the Citadel, situated in the heart of the city, spanning both sides of the river.

"Incredible," I marveled. "There is so much to see and do. I am eagerly anticipating a visit to the Starry Sept."

"All in due time, my Prince," Ser Bryndon replied. "For now, our Lord invites you to the Hightower to enjoy our hospitality."

Music to my ears. "Certainly, a moment of rest would be most welcome. Speaking of which, it is said that when House Hightower goes to war, the flame atop the tower burns a bright green. How is this achieved?"

"It is a trick of the trade," Ser Bryndon revealed. "One that you will have to inquire about directly from our Lord."

Brien scoffed. "More like a magic trick, if you ask me. There has always been an unusual fascination with fire among the alchemist guild. Rumors suggest that pyromancers from distant lands of Asshai settled here when Prince Peremore the Twisted founded the Citadel. Do you think all those wizards and sorcerers suddenly disapeared?"

Theodore shook his head, his voice filled with caution. "It is best to keep such talk to ourselves. You know how Archmaester Hobard reacts to such speculations..."

"Hobard!" Brien exclaimed with unexpected enthusiasm. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I am looking forward to seeing him."

"He won't be able to see you, I'm afraid," Theodore informed. "He has lost his sight."

Brien's voice quivered with empathy. "Poor Archmaester. All those books, and no eyes to read them. By the way, how did you come to know of his blindness?"

"I have friends in the Citadel who still correspond with me, unlike you," Theodore replied, lightening the mood.

Upon our arrival at the tower, the mighty lighthouse that lights the way for merchant ships, Lord Hobert Hightower, his son Ormund, and the rest of their brood awaited us outside, ready to receive me.

"Welcome to Oldtown, Prince Rhaenar," Lord Hobert greeted me. "You humble us with this visit."

I dismounted from my stallion and replied, "Thank you, my Lord. But it is Oldtown that truly humbles *me*. The way your brother described it pales in comparison to the real thing."

Lord Hobert chuckled, "Is that so? How peculiar. Otto was always the one gifted with words."

As I surveyed the members of House Hightower, I couldn't help but comment, "He must be compensated in some way since he didn't inherit the family's striking looks. Your all look gorgous!"

Lord Hobert smiled proudly. "The Mother has blessed us with many healthy children." He motioned towards the door, indicating that I should follow him inside. "And how is our Lady Alicent?"

Such a loaded question "Alicent!" I cried, clutching my heart. "Please, don't remind me. I miss her very dearly."

"I am glad to hear that you two are close," Lord Hobert said.

Chuckling softly, I replied, "As if I had a choice. Your niece is an exceptional young woman. But let us shift our focus away from those who are absent. We have much to do. I am eager to meet the rest of your house!"

That evening, a splendid feast awaited me. The dining table was set in a room near the top of the Hightower. The city lights below flickered like swaying fireflies, and the air carried a refreshing coolness, the occasional gentle breeze that swept through the dining room.

The Rhaenari encampment lay well outside the city walls, but from the balcony, I could see the multitude of campfires illuminating the night. Only my closest companions and those who had displayed exceptional valor in our recent trainings were permitted to accompany me.

Ser Lorent and Ser Steffon, Sari Sicai, Theodore, and Brien were among them. I had also brought Gorgeous George, whose divine handsomeness bestowed our entourage with an otherworldly allure.

However, Phoenix remained in the camp, as I deemed it best not to parade an unsullied former slave eunuch in every keep I visited. The people of Westeros held their traditions in high regard and were quick to take offense if they felt their customs were slighted. I didn't want Phoenix slinging his phantom cock around and create unnecessary unrest.

And so, for the following fortnight, I immersed myself in the fabric of Oldtown. Accompanied by Theodore, I ventured through its winding streets, rubbing shoulders with guild leaders and engaging in lively exchanges of commerce and bartering within the markets. The city's lively atmosphere embraced us as we delved deeper into its hidden corners.

At the awe-inspiring Starry Sept, with its great dome, black marble walls, and elegant arched windows, I was blessed and anointed by the High Septon himself, who anointed me with the seven sacred oils, each representing a face of the one god in the Faith.

It was within the underbelly of Oldtown that I encountered the most unexpected revelations. Secreted away from prying eyes, numerous brothels and rat pits emerged, where the smallfolk sought thrills through bets on dog and rat fights.

It was there that I entrusted Dirty Douglas with a task of great importance. Though we could not expect to conquer the entire underworld within a matter of weeks, we aimed to establish a foothold that would endure long after our departure. Douglas swiftly set about implementing our tried-and-true schemes: gambling dens, gaming halls, boxing matches, and other ventures of that nature.

Indeed, the contrast between Kingslanding and Oldtown was staggering. The sheer number of landmarks I visited was remarkable in its own right.

Yet, all of these sights paled in comparison to the unparalleled grandeur that awaited me at the Citadel.