The standard-bearers raised golden banners around the four walls of the Dragonpit, and the autumn wind stirred the battle flags.
Gendry's black leather boots stepped over the Dragonpit's charred ruins. The dome was now in tatters and would certainly have to be torn down. Broken stone and rubble still lay scattered throughout the Dragonpit, but the stone benches had vanished, almost all carried off by the people of King's Landing.
"Lord Randyll, take a look at the stone and rubble here, along with the walls and passages. See what can still be used. In the future, the center of the Dragonpit will become a domed Hall of Honor, dedicated to warriors and the glory of soldiers. Around it, we can build residences where wounded veterans can recover, with gardens in front and behind, and courtyards for ceremonies."
"As you command, Prince." Randyll personally picked up several pieces of rubble. As long as the stones from the dome were still solid, they could be reused.
"The passages are not a major problem. They only need to be cleared and fitted with oak doors. Some of the remaining walls can still be used as well. If they are too damaged, we tear them down. In that case, while preserving the Dragonpit's basic frame, we need to dismantle the dome, then build houses and halls around the walls of this circular structure. The central square can be kept simple," Randyll suggested.
Gendry nodded. "That is the plan for now."
"Do Ser Barristan and Lord Yohn have any other objections?" Gendry asked the two of them. Although Randyll was overseeing the matter, the Lord Commander of the white knights and the head of the second house of the Vale still outranked him.
"No." Ser Barristan and Lord Yohn both shook their heads. This was a welfare project, not something for the King's pleasure, so naturally they had no objections.
"Then proceed that way. Report the plans, labor, and costs directly to me and the Small Council."
"Understood, Prince. Will troops be stationed here?" Randyll asked.
"There will be wounded soldiers recovering here, and there may also be a barracks stationed on the height to guard it," Gendry said. Since it was a Veterans' Home, it naturally carried a military nature as well.
Rhaenys's Hill was high ground. It would be a waste not to use it, especially since it stood so close to the powder keg of Flea Bottom.
Once the plan was settled, everyone relaxed considerably. The Dragonpit was a renovation and repair project, after all. Reworking an existing structure was far easier than building from nothing.
"Back when the Dragonpit was stormed, the mob climbed in through the side doors and windows, and Dreamfyre smashed through the dome. Most of the Dragonpit was destroyed. Some reinforcement was done afterward, but once the last dragon left, this place was abandoned completely," Ser Barristan said with a sigh, his gaze sweeping over the ruins.
The Dornish had once shot down the great silver dragon Meraxes during Aegon's Conquest, but the people of King's Landing had killed five dragons with their own hands. Of those five, only Dreamfyre was truly fierce and large, a second-generation dragon. Three of the others were young dragons matched to princes and princesses, while Princess Rhaenyra's dragon had been pampered for years and had largely lost a dragon's wildness. One side won by quality, the other by quantity.
"There was something strange about what happened back then," Anguy said. Though the storming of the Dragonpit had been incited by a mob, the dragon slayers inside had truly known a few tricks.
Gendry had already formed a rough conclusion. "The answer is actually simple. Storming the Dragonpit required fanatics willing to face flame, dragon slayers, and precise timing. Back then, the Dragonpit was at its weakest. Dreamfyre's rider, Queen Helaena, was dead, while the other three young dragons were still juveniles. Some of their riders were only a few years old and could not control dragons at all. All the dragons were chained together, and then the mob broke through and overwhelmed them. Those who could have orchestrated such a thing would surely include Larys the Crooked-Footed and House Hightower. Larys controlled the intelligence, while House Hightower held power over the faith and learning at the time, and was extremely wealthy besides."
Some maesters and septons of the Citadel had studied dragons. At the very least, Septon Barth's research had already stated that a dragon's weakness was its eyes, certainly not its lower belly as some old tales claimed. The scales on a dragon's lower belly were as thick as those on its back and sides.
As for Barth's book, Dragons, Wyrms, and Wyverns: Their Unnatural History, when Jaehaerys I the Conciliator lay dying in bed, Lady Alison Hightower had been reading that very work to him at his bedside. House Hightower must have possessed that knowledge as well.
"Too much time has passed. Books recording The Dance of the Dragons are hard to find. There is said to be a True History of The Dance of the Dragons, but only fragments survive now," Bronze Yohn said.
Lords and nobles monopolized force, but they also received a fair cultural education so they would not become illiterate. How much knowledge each man absorbed depended on his own nature.
"There is also Fire and Blood, a prose history stained with blood. It is said that the only surviving copy is now locked deep in the cellars beneath the Citadel," Gendry said. He knew the contents of that book.
"How many men did House Hightower send to this war?" Gendry asked Lord Randyll Tarly directly.
"About one or two hundred," the tall, bald, gaunt Lord Randyll answered carefully and truthfully. "And they were led by Hightower cousins, not Lord Leyton's sons. Though Lord Leyton is Great Lord Mace's father-in-law, Oldtown has little interest in struggles over royal power. During the late King Robert's rebellion, they chose to support House Targaryen, but they did not actually send troops."
The masters of the Hightower were powerful and immensely wealthy, but they had always preferred trade to war and rarely took part in Westerosi civil wars. Rarely, yes. But when they did, it was The Dance of the Dragons, which had turned the realm upside down.
"One or two hundred. That is rare enough," Gendry said noncommittally, his tone hard to read as either criticism or praise. House Hightower seemed like a player who had gone idle, though whether they were truly idle was hard to say. After all, as a great house that had lasted for thousands, even tens of thousands of years, the Hightowers' control over Oldtown was extraordinarily deep. "Could it be that Lord Mace never sent ravens to his father-in-law?"
"As far as I know, Lord Mace's ravens and orders flew all over The Reach. But House Hightower is the wealthiest and most powerful bannerman beneath Highgarden, so naturally they are a little slower."
"It seems Lord Leyton truly is very busy."
"This..." Randyll froze in place. Refusing a lord's command could be treated as either serious or minor. In Tywin's hands, it would be treason and rebellion. In the Riverlands, it was quite ordinary. In The Reach, perhaps only House Hightower had the foundation to act that way.
From what Randyll knew, a commander like Gendry, who charged through the front lines himself, surely represented an iron hand and absolute authority. House Hightower's conduct in lying low must already have been seen by the new king.
"I was merely asking. After all, Lord Leyton is still a loyal servant of the realm. Would you not agree, Lord Randyll?" Gendry looked at Randyll. A clever man would understand his meaning.
"The Prince is correct." Lord Randyll nodded, deciding to move closer to power. "Even if Lord Leyton has a loyal heart, he should show it himself. He cannot always have others speak for him."
"Do what needs to be done. I will be behind you."
"Yes."
The others pretended not to hear. Everyone here was firmly within Gendry's inner circle.
Randyll understood the meaning behind those words. His role was to be Gendry's wedge in The Reach, and he only needed to follow the Storm step by step. Toward a wealthy, powerful, and disobedient house like Hightower, a ruler's suspicion was only natural.
"What has Lord Leyton been studying all this time?"
"That, we do not know," Randyll said mockingly. "Leyton has vanished into the top of his tower for a long time. Supposedly, it is something bizarre like magic. These days, his sons manage Oldtown. But on major matters, Lord Leyton should still be the one giving orders."
Gendry rubbed the Valyrian steel ring on his finger. Leyton was up to something, though no one knew exactly what. But the man had the advantage of proximity. With the vast scholarly resources of the Citadel in his grasp, Leyton would not lack materials if he wished to study magic.
"Lord Leyton still has an unmarried daughter, does he not? Only this daughter and his youngest son remain unwed," Gendry asked Randyll.
"Yes, Prince. Lord Leyton's eldest daughter, Malora Hightower, is second among the siblings. By rights, her children should be in their twenties by now, but she has never married. Her mind may be somewhat unstable. Her nickname is the Mad Maid."
"A woman that old and still unwed. The Mad Maid is certainly not normal. She may truly be mad," Bronze Yohn said with a frown. Like Randyll, he was a traditional knight who believed men should act like men and women like women.
Leyton, the Mad Maid, Hightower. They cannot remain supporting players forever, Gendry thought. In any case, he would need to pay more attention to them.
The Mad Maid was indeed no longer young. Her second sister, Lady Alerie Tyrell, had given House Tyrell an heir who was already about twenty-six or twenty-seven. That meant the Mad Maid had to be at least in her forties or fifties. For a great house like House Hightower, that was not normal. Eldest sons and daughters were given greater weight in Westeros. Most likely, the Mad Maid had some talent in magic or some kind of science, and that had delayed her marriage.
The clatter of hooves sounded again. Lothor Brune rode past with the results of his mission.
"We found them, Prince," Lothor said.
As a fallen man himself, Lothor had lived in Flea Bottom before. He spent money, asked around, and found several of the best rat-catchers in King's Landing.
"Good. Proceed as planned. Have them move. We need the agile ones, smaller men, since many secret passages are too narrow for large men to enter," Gendry said. "After nightfall, I will return to the camp on the north bank of the Blackwater Rush. I will not stay in King's Landing."
When night fell, in some dim moment beneath the darkness, Varys naturally learned the two new pieces of information.
With his abilities, getting that news was not especially difficult. Even though he was now hiding underground, such open movements still left people willing to pass him information.
The Gold Cloaks were looking for rat-catchers, preparing to search the secret passages.
Gendry was not staying in King's Landing, but had returned to the safer military camp outside the city.
Is my time running out? Varys asked himself. Has it truly come to the moment when I must draw the sword?
He absolutely could not leave this place, the lair he had built over so many years.
Then he could only search for a chance to assassinate him with the heart of a beast.
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