chapter 101 part 1
Chapter 101: The Rising Ladder
Highgarden, the rose garden.
The garden was filled with meticulously cultivated roses of every color, all in full bloom.
Margaery Tyrell folded the letter, her doe-like eyes gazing at the flowerbeds.
Both letters Glynn had written from King's Landing—one to Lord Mace and one to Margaery—were in her hands. Today was the third time she had read them.
The letter to Lord Mace first reported on the progress of their affairs. It was three lines long, direct and concise.
The remaining dozens of lines were all about the new military theories her father had recently taken to discussing all night at feasts. Glynn had provided further elaboration in his letter.
Margaery remembered how her father's face had flushed with excitement upon reading it, heaping endless praise upon Glynn.
"Glynn, though young, has already learned much from me. The young man has a promising future."
...
Thinking of her father's words at the time, a faint blush appeared on Margaery's cheeks.
Margaery sighed inwardly. Her grandmother hadn't stepped in to stop it; as long as her father was happy, it was fine.
As for the letter to her... two-thirds of it was praise for her beauty.
Her hair, eyes, nose, lips—every visible part of her body, Glynn had praised in turn. The language was elegant enough that it never felt the slightest bit offensive or disagreeable.
Margaery had read Glynn's letter with a vigilant heart, yet she found her mood lifting unconsciously.
She felt that her handmaidens, who called Glynn a troubadour behind his back, had not wronged him in the slightest.
After praising Margaery's beauty, the letter also discussed the progress of their affairs, but in much greater detail than the one sent to her father.
Margaery compared it with her father's letter. It was merely the difference between a summary and a detailed account, yet for some reason, she felt a slight sense of offense.
At the end, Glynn informed her that the King had entrusted him with an important task and that he would be heading to Essos.
Margaery's brow furrowed slightly. Although Glynn said it wouldn't delay their plans, he hadn't given her a specific date for his return.
But she quickly smoothed her brow. The Golden Rose valued results, and she trusted Glynn to know what was important.
Her grandmother's teachings still echoed in her ears: the ever-growing House Tyrell must always hold the initiative.
...
The reason Margaery studied the letters repeatedly was to gain a better understanding of this man, Glynn.
To Margaery, men like Glynn were completely foreign. Keeping him under control would require a great deal of thought.
She was also looking forward to her next meeting with Glynn. Besides, he still owed her a "suggestion."
"Lady Margaery, shall we start our game?"
The cheerful laughter of her handmaidens interrupted Margaery's thoughts.
Margaery's tone was tinged with helplessness. "Sometimes I truly envy your vivacity. I was just taking a moment to rest."
Megga Tyrell's voice was the loudest among the handmaidens. "Lady Margaery, you've been sitting here for half the day!"
Elinor Tyrell's voice was full of concern. "Margaery, you truly should relax a little."
Alla Tyrell's voice was very soft. "Margaery, would you like me to play a song for you?"
The handmaidens chattered one after another, but all their words were filled with concern for Margaery.
Margaery said helplessly, "I know, I know. I've just been rather busy lately and can't seem to unwind. You don't need to worry about me."
Megga glanced at the letters on the table and said, "Margaery, are you reading that troubadour's letters again?"
"The troubadour again?"
"He has such a sweet tongue."
The handmaidens burst into laughter, and watching them, Margaery couldn't help but laugh as well.
...
...
Crackclaw Point, The Whispers.
The azure sky was cloudless, and a fresh breeze blew, making one feel refreshed.
At the castle gate, a carefully dressed Carlaia craned her neck, looking into the distance.
Beside her, Maester Al blinked and said teasingly, "Good child, don't be anxious. It's a good thing when the people love their Lord."
Carlaia's cheeks turned a faint red. "Maester Al!"
Under Glynn's arrangement, Carlaia had been studying with Maester Al, learning a great deal of new and fascinating knowledge.
The longer she studied, the more she revered Maester Al's wisdom. She felt she could never reach his level in her entire lifetime.
Carlaia's expression quickly returned to normal.
What was there to be ashamed of? The women of Crackclaw Point had always fought for what they wanted!
...
Maester Al watched the changes on Carlaia's young face and gave a kindly smile.
As a retainer who had served four generations of House Cleber (Glynn's grandfather, father, mother, and Glynn himself), Maester Al could be said to have spent the better part of his life in The Whispers, personally witnessing the rise and fall of the House.
In Maester Al's eyes, Glynn's conduct and actions made him an anomaly for House Cleber, very un-Cleber-like.
A House that had only ever known how to wield swords and blades had somehow welcomed a master who preferred to use his mind.
House Cleber had weathered many storms and finally met an opportunity to rise. Glynn's appearance was proof of that.
Perhaps this opportunity, this seed, had been planted long ago, starting when Lady Cleber placed such a strong emphasis on Glynn's education.
At this thought, Maester Al couldn't help but straighten his old back... *I taught Glynn to read and write.*
House Cleber already controlled nearly two-thirds of the land on Crackclaw Point, with tens of thousands of subjects.
The young Lord would not stop his advance. Maester Al believed it wouldn't be long before the remaining lands of Crackclaw Point belonged to the Cleber territory, establishing the absolute rule of House Cleber over the peninsula and making them a pivotal military noble in the Crownlands.
Maester Al sighed inwardly. This might just be the beginning of the true war.
Although Lord Jon Arryn and the Vale Nobles had not directly mobilized their swords, they had caused too much blood to be shed on Crackclaw Point. Over a decade of accumulation had forged a feud as deep as a sea of blood.
Maester Al roused his spirits. He had to live a few more years, to continue serving his Lord, and while he was at it... the Vale had also kept him from adding new books to his collection for several years. This old man could still twist the knife.
...
At the castle gate, Glynn dismounted his horse.
"Lord Glynn!"
Carlaia gathered her skirts and hurried over, throwing herself at him.
Glynn felt the soft fragrance... no, he couldn't feel it. To project the authority of a Lord, he was constantly clad in the Cleber ancestral plate armor.
They embraced, and Glynn patted Carlaia's back lightly. His face was gentle, but his mind was blank.
*Have I done something I've forgotten?*
Maester Al grinned, revealing his few remaining teeth. "Lord Glynn, Carlaia is growing up. House Cleber has never lacked for courage."