The warm sunlight cast a soft glow over the calm, mirror-like sea, stretching out like a green woolen carpet to the horizon. Whispering Bay was known for its serenity, rarely seeing waves higher than ten feet. Even the wildest winds softened here, brushing gently over the water like a lover's caress.
As the merchant ship entered the bay, Samwell caught sight of Oldtown's most iconic structure far in the distance—
The Hightower.
This towering stone lighthouse was one of the grandest and most awe-inspiring constructions in all of Westeros, reaching over eight hundred feet into the sky with a flaming beacon that burned unceasingly at its peak, visible for miles across the sea.
For thousands of years, this luminous beacon at the mouth of the Honeywine had guided countless captains safely into port.
As the merchant ship drew closer, the imposing outline of the Hightower grew clearer. Everyone on deck stared, spellbound by this miraculous structure, holding their breath as if in reverence.
Chiman, having never seen anything like it, was visibly trembling, almost ready to drop to his knees in worship.
Even Samwell, despite having been accustomed to towering skyscrapers in his previous life, couldn't suppress his amazement.
He marveled at how such a lighthouse could have been built with the quasi-medieval technology of the Game of Thrones world.
'Unless it was magic!'
The thought crossed Samwell's mind—such a construction seemed impossible without it.
As one of the busiest ports in Westeros, the bay was teeming with ships. Their vessel had to queue before docking, giving them ample time to admire the sprawling city before them, glowing warmly in the sunset. Oldtown, with its centuries-old architecture and tranquil charm, looked like a venerable elder who had witnessed the rise and fall of generations with quiet indifference.
Beyond the Hightower, two other structures defined Oldtown—the Citadel and the Starry Sept.
The Citadel was a haven for scholars and the site of Samwell's youthful dreams. Many learned men had left its walls to advise lords across Westeros, building a legacy of knowledge and wisdom.
As for the Starry Sept, it had been the heart of the Faith of the Seven for thousands of years, housing the High Septon himself, until Baelor's Great Sept in King's Landing had supplanted it just over a century ago. For many faithful, it still remained the holiest place, a step closer to heaven.
Of course, when speaking of Oldtown, one couldn't ignore its ruling family—the Hightowers.
One of the oldest noble families in Westeros, the Hightowers' lineage could be traced back to the First Men, having once reigned as the Kings of the High Tower along the banks of the Honeywine.
For such an ancient and powerful family, however, the Hightowers were surprisingly—and famously—unassertive.
In fact, to many, they even appeared weak.
When the Andals invaded, the Hightowers chose to submit and intermarry; when House Gardener expanded from the Mander, they bent the knee again, arranging marriages and sending wives away; and when Aegon the Conqueror rode his dragons across Westeros, the Hightowers once again chose submission.
Well, they didn't marry into House Targaryen—but only because the Targaryens clung to their own bloodline, marrying brothers to sisters rather than mingling with others. Like they famously said in the movie, "Keeping the blood of the Dragon pure".
It was easy to see why such a family, known for submission and compromise, didn't inspire much awe or respect.
But Samwell had never underestimated the Hightowers.
Underestimating them could come at a steep price—and often in ways one might never notice.
Countless maesters had left the Citadel to serve lords across Westeros. While these men claimed to be without names, loyalties, or politics, could anyone truly say the Hightowers had no influence over them?
What were those scholars, secretly studying the occult, truly seeking?
What schemes were hatched by the Citadel's Conclave behind closed doors, hidden from prying eyes?
What mysteries lay behind those heavy, ancient doors?
To Samwell, the Hightowers perfectly embodied the principle of "overcoming strength with softness." They seldom clashed openly, opting instead to shape the world quietly.
Countless ancient houses had faded into history's depths, but the Hightowers endured. This could not be mere coincidence.
When Samwell disembarked from the merchant vessel, he and his entourage were taken onto a ferry bound for Battle Isle, the island at the Honeywine's mouth where the Hightower fortress stood.
According to legend, in the distant Age of Dawn, dragons had roosted upon the isle until the first Hightower lord drove them out and built the first Hightower.
Standing at the foot of this human-made marvel, Samwell felt a rare sense of insignificance. This structure looked less like the work of mortals and more like something out of legend.
"Welcome, Ser Caesar, to the Hightower."
A striking, dignified middle-aged man greeted him with a warm smile outside the gates. This was none other than Baelor Hightower, son of Lord Leyton Hightower, ruler of Oldtown.
Yet it wasn't Ser Baelor's presence that caught Samwell's attention—it was the young woman standing beside him.
It was Lady Margaery Tyrell.
The daughter of the Highgarden duke wore a green pleated dress, her waist accentuated with golden embroidery. Her soft, brown curls cascaded down from her head, held by a simple headband. When she caught sight of Samwell, her gentle eyes widened with surprise.
"Ser Caesar, I almost didn't recognize you!"
Samwell froze, equally shocked to see the "Rose of Highgarden" here, beneath the Hightower. But he quickly recovered, bowing courteously.
"Good day, Ser Baelor, Lady Margaery. The path of a pioneer is rough, so I've lost some weight."
"You've lost more than 'some' weight," Margaery said with a smile as she looked him up and down. "I've heard you've managed to unite over ten thousand wildlings under your banner—it's truly remarkable."
"And you've also rid the Hightowers of a notorious outlaw. My poor cousin can finally rest in peace." Ser Baelor added, acknowledging the wildling head Samwell had sent. Clearly, Lord Brandon of Sunhouse had delivered it as intended.
"I'm honored to be of service to House Hightower," Samwell replied with a slight bow to Ser Baelor, before turning his attention to Margaery. "Expanding Highgarden's reach is my duty."
Margaery's eyes crinkled with a smile, and adorable dimples appeared on her cheeks.
"I'm proud of you, my knight. This month's allowance will be a little more generous!"
"Thank you for your kindness," Samwell said, his grin broadening. "Your investment will surely see a great return."
He then added curiously, "If I may ask, Lady Margaery, what brings you to Oldtown?"
"I came with my mother to visit her family," Margaery explained. "But I didn't expect to run into you here—what a delightful surprise."
Samwell recalled that Margaery's mother, the Lady of Highgarden, was indeed the daughter of Lord Leyton Hightower.
"Enough standing around out here. Come inside." Ser Baelor gestured to the entrance.
Nodding, Samwell accepted a servant's offering of bread and salt, took a bite, and then stepped inside the gates of the Hightower.
(End of Chapter)