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"Father, turn left here. But be careful to jump over that lighter stone slab. It triggers a trap."
The young remembered details more easily than their elders. After the decisive retreat from the north gate, Dickon, who had spent the past few days learning the maze and its traps, now led the way in front.
Behind him, Lord Randyll and seven or eight hundred Tarly soldiers, all of whom knew the maze was dangerous, followed his steps closely.
Just after Randyll jumped over the pale stone slab and steadied himself, two heavy explosions rang out. He immediately looked toward the sound.
In the distance, at the south gate, two massive orange-red flames leapt into the air. Then two thick black columns of smoke rose like winding pythons toward the sky.
"From the look of it, those should be the two flamethrowers exploding. I do not know whether it was an accident or deliberate destruction.
"Still, good. Our two flamethrowers had spent all their black oil. Without the oil stored by the second wall, they were useless. But if Willas's flamethrowers fell into enemy hands, our next defense would be far more difficult."
Randyll analyzed the south gate with a grave expression. Then, remembering that his own situation was hardly good, he said, "Keep moving. Reach the planned position first."
"Yes!"
Dickon and the Tarly soldiers answered together and continued through the maze, where only the high walls around them helped show direction.
On Highgarden's north wall, nearly one thousand family soldiers loyal to House Tarly had been left behind by Randyll to face Oberyn's attack.
They fought like trapped beasts. More and more Martell soldiers climbed onto the wall behind Oberyn, but they could not quickly break the Tarly men. They could only chew through them slowly.
Garth, who had brought nearly two thousand Hightower soldiers from the west wall, easily broke the Tyrell soldiers blocking his path. After glancing at the fight ahead, he did not go to assist Oberyn. Instead, he led his family soldiers down the wall stairs and began chasing Randyll's group toward the second wall.
For this battle against Highgarden, the two sides were allies. But capturing a famous commander like Randyll Tarly or being first to break the inner defenses would bring very different rewards.
After descending the north wall, Garth saw a broad road leading straight toward the second wall. At that moment, the road was blocked by wooden chevaux-de-frise set with spikes.
After only a few steps, a sharp smell hit him.
As a member of the ruling house of Oldtown, which handled lawful and illicit goods from Westeros and Essos alike, Garth knew the smell of wildfire.
He stopped, looked at the green trees on both sides of the road, and understood. If invaders dared enter this trap soaked with wildfire, fire arrows would surely come from somewhere.
There was no sign of Randyll and his men on the broad road either. Clearly, they had not gone that way.
Garth looked toward the maze entrance nearest the north gate and led his family soldiers into it without hesitation.
He had seen with his own eyes that Randyll had retreated with less than half his original strength. He did not believe the man would dare ambush him.
"Stop!"
After following the single path through the maze for more than ten minutes, turning left and right, Garth's brows drew together. He suddenly called his men to halt, drew his sword, and hacked at the green trees in the direction of the second wall.
A clear ring sounded. The tree before him received only a cut as thick as a little finger.
Where the outer bark had been broken, a black inner layer appeared, and a small amount of dark brown sap seeped out.
"Damn it. What tree is this? How can it be so hard?"
Garth stared in shock.
He did not know that these green-looking trees were called ironwood, a rare Westerosi tree. The wood was extremely hard and black through its heart.
Because mature trees grew no more than eight inches thick and no taller than seven feet, and because cutting them was expensive, they had never become a valuable timber. Yet to Highgarden, they were important. The ironwood maze behind the first wall was built entirely of these trees.
Why, then, were Highgarden's black ironwood trees green?
Because the royal house of the old Kingdom of the Reach, House Gardener, had borne a green hand as its sigil. Highgarden was also famed as a green paradise. The Reach kings had therefore ordered the black ironwood painted green regularly, a practice that had continued under House Tyrell.
In the words of Robb's previous life, it was vanity dressed as tradition.
"You, climb onto his shoulders and look ahead," Garth ordered, pointing to two tall Hightower soldiers after abandoning the idea of cutting a direct path to the second wall.
The two soldiers obeyed. Seven feet of ironwood could not block the view of a man raised on another's shoulders.
"Lord Garth, I can see two forks ahead. I cannot see whether they become dead ends. But... this maze is enormous."
The soldier looked left and right before reporting.
From his position, aside from the north wall not far behind them, everything around him was a sea of green trees with no visible end.
The maze had been seen by generations of Reach kings as the first barrier after the wall fell. If invaders could find the way through so easily, the old kings would have been made fools.
"From now on, you two are captains. Each of you choose ten men and scout ahead."
Garth considered briefly and gave the order.
"As you command!"
The two newly promoted men were delighted. They saluted him and quickly chose their squads.
The two squads went ahead. After turning the corner, the next path indeed split in two. The new captains exchanged a glance and each led his men toward the fork nearer him.
The squad on the left walked silently down a passage formed by rows of ironwood. It felt as if they had been cut off from the outside world.
"Captain," one of the men said nervously, apparently familiar with the newly promoted officer, "do you think there are traps or beasts in this maze?"
"Traps? Have you listened to too many knightly tales?" the captain snapped, shoving him. "I heard nobles play in this maze in peacetime. If there were traps and someone important was hurt, what then?
"Listen to me. This attack on Highgarden is our chance. A moment ago I was the same as you. Now I am a captain. If I did not want familiar bastards like you to share some fortune, why would I choose you for my squad?"
"Yes, yes. Thank you, Captain."
The shoved soldier stumbled forward and turned back with a flattering smile.
"Good. Since your courage is so small, walk in front and train it."
"Ah... yes."
After greeting the captain's family warmly in his mind, the soldier lowered his head and walked ahead.
His right foot had only just stepped onto a pale stone slab when he felt his balance vanish. After he steadied himself and looked down, the slab had sunk to his ankle.
"Captain, I think I stepped on-"
Crossbow bolts shot from the ironwood on both sides of the passage.
The ten-man squad, including the new captain, was pierced into hedgehogs before any of them could scream. They collapsed dead.
"-a trap."
Only after finishing the words did the soldier feel cold through his body. He looked down and saw several bolts in his chest and thighs. His confused eyes blinked once. Then he fell.
The squad on the right did slightly better. At least they managed to scream.
"Mercy, my lord! Mercy!"
Dickon looked at the Hightower soldier begging on the ground. His sword paused for the slightest moment, then chopped down hard.
"Back to the hiding place," Dickon ordered the dozens of Tarly soldiers in the passage after sheathing his sword.
Hearing screams from ahead, Garth first thought the scouts had met Randyll's remnants. He immediately called the Hightower soldiers behind him and ran forward.
What followed made him furious.
Hidden crossbows, spike pits, and other traps in the maze, together with sudden attacks from Randyll's remaining men, kept throwing the long Hightower column into disorder. The front and rear could not support each other, and men kept dying.
In a direct fight, Garth's force, larger and aided by a mysterious soldier, would leave Randyll no chance. But within the maze, Hightower soldiers were being whittled away.
"Sister," Garth whispered, unable to endure any longer after another sudden attack by Tarly soldiers, "Randyll Tarly should be nearby. Can you use magic to make him appear before us?"
"Garth, first, the power I use is not magic. It is advanced occult study.
"Second, it cannot be used however you imagine. It must operate according to certain principles woven into the world itself."
The mysterious soldier lifted her visor, revealing a beautiful face.
She was Lord Leyton Hightower's eldest daughter, Malora Hightower.
Because she had shown strange behavior beyond ordinary understanding since childhood, the people of Oldtown secretly called her the Mad Maid. Yet the Old Man of Oldtown loved this eldest daughter dearly.
Tywin Lannister had once proposed marriage, wanting Leyton to marry the mad Malora to his son Tyrion. To Tywin, a madwoman and a dwarf made a good match of equal status and strengthened two great houses.
Leyton had coldly refused with the reason that House Hightower had no need of a halfman.
After that, Leyton and Malora often stayed in the Hightower conducting occult research. After the red comet crossed the sky, they barely left at all. Even their food was brought into the tower by servants on schedule.
Notably, when Stannis's royal fleet was ambushed beneath the Hightower by the Redwyne and Hightower fleets, the bloody battle at Oldtown had failed to draw their attention.
"Fine. I do not care what you call it," Garth said, rolling his eyes. "I only want to know where the rats hiding around us are.
"And remember, I represent Father's will here."
"Tch. More of my moonstone wasted. If not for Father's order, I could have used this time to decipher another section of occult runes."
Malora complained softly as she lowered her visor again and walked toward a pile of Hightower corpses.
Garth followed closely and, as she always did when she used her occult art, ordered his guards to stand with their backs turned, blocking the view from behind.
Under his gaze, Malora crouched before an intact Hightower corpse and took the pale blue gem from inside her armor: a moonstone, smaller than before.
She chanted in a language Garth did not understand. The pale glow of the moonstone deepened.
The corpse before her opened its eyes. The dead gray was quickly replaced by a deep blue.
Garth had never seen Malora use this sort of power. At the sight of the corpse seemingly revived, a chill ran up his spine, and the air seemed to grow colder.
"Where are the men who killed you?" Malora asked, pleased that her occult knowledge had worked.
With a series of brittle cracking sounds, the corpse's right hand twisted in an unnatural way and pointed straight toward a dead end behind them.
"Thank you. Rest."
The deep blue glow in the moonstone suddenly withdrew. The light faded, and the stone was visibly smaller.
"That area is wrong. Search it carefully!" Garth ordered at once.
His guards and many Hightower soldiers hurried to the dead end. After careful inspection, they all pulled together and moved aside a section of ironwood.
"Run!"
Dickon had heard the ironwood move and immediately whispered for the Tarly soldiers to flee.
When the Hightower men flooded into the passage, they saw only backs ahead.
"Stay on them! Follow them and we can get out of this damned maze!"
Garth saw the fleeing enemy and shouted excitedly.
So the two houses began a chase through the ironwood maze.
Outside the west gate, in the harbor, the Redwyne fleet, with barely half as many oared warships as the Hightower fleet, approached at a steady speed.
"This is wartime. Pass the order. The whole fleet stays alert."
Ser Baelor might despise the Redwynes aloud, but he kept proper caution in battle.
Still, there was that person's command. And Lord Paxter's twin sons were held by Tywin Lannister in King's Landing. That alone should have forced Paxter to obey.
As Baelor watched the Redwyne fleet draw closer, he thought of everything he knew about Lord Paxter.
Dozens of black specks suddenly arced from the Redwyne fleet toward the Hightower ships.
Burning pitch barrels smashed into the Hightower fleet in the harbor. Most burst across the oared warships. A few spilled directly onto sails embroidered with the tall tower sigil.
Most warship sails had fire-resistant coatings. They could not fully block the burning pitch sticking to them, but the flames did not spread at once.
"Enemy attack!
"Damn it! The Redwyne bastards betrayed us. Stop moving ships. Whole army, counterattack!"
Baelor recovered from the surprise and shouted for the Hightower soldiers who were moving empty ships to strike back.
"Brothers, one hundred silver stags for every Hightower bastard you kill. Time to get rich!"
Lord Paxter stood on the figurehead of a midsized warship, holding the rigging and shouting the reward he had already promised.
After catching his breath, he roared again, not caring whether the enemy heard.
"Tywin Lannister! You meant to use House Redwyne as a pawn? If you dare, cross the sea and attack the Arbor. House Redwyne has never feared anyone at sea.
"If my twin sons truly come to harm, I will make you pay the same price."
The strong river wind stirred the few orange hairs on his bald head, making the unimpressive-looking Lord Paxter seem full of fierce spirit.
Thinking of the figure hidden in the dark, his eyes dimmed slightly.
'No. Enough. Kill the Hightowers who betrayed their liege first.'
Most Redwyne warships were large oared vessels fit for the open sea. The Mander could not support ships of such heavy tonnage and deep draft. Lord Paxter could only attack with small and midsized oared ships, fewer than half the Hightower fleet.
Fortunately, Garth had already taken a third of the Hightower soldiers away, and many others were still on empty ships waiting to be moved. That gave the Redwyne fleet enough time to close with relatively small losses.
"Pull in the line. Have all our ships press tight together. Redwyne sailors fight well on water, so we will turn our decks into solid ground."
Baelor understood both sides' strengths and weaknesses and gave the wisest order available.
When the Hightower fleet contracted into a tight defense, the Redwyne ships rammed them with fierce momentum. Countless small and midsized oared warships in the harbor locked together through violent collision.
Boarding began.
Redwyne soldiers were clearly better as individual fighters, but their numbers were lower. The Mander's water was calm, and the Hightowers had packed their ships together, turning the battlefield into something as stable as land.
Unable to use their advantage, the Redwyne soldiers were suppressed for a time.
Ser Baelor cut open a Redwyne soldier's throat and saw the enemy slowly pushed back toward their own ships. He was satisfied with his decision.
Then a Hightower soldier cried out, "Enemy approaching! So many squid longships! Gods, they are fast!"
'The Iron Fleet?'
Baelor was first shocked, then quickly calmed. The harbor was occupied by Hightower ships, and Redwyne ships outside them served as a shield. The ironborn could not approach.
A whistling white mist blew from the direction of the Redwyne fleet. A teeth-aching crackle came from beneath the ships.
The sudden change silenced the battlefield. Everyone leaned out to look.
The Mander, still in long summer, had formed a thick layer of white ice. Beneath the ice, visible river water still flowed slowly.
This stretch of the Mander had suddenly frozen.
Footsteps sounded on the ice.
Baelor looked up.
A handsome youth holding a greatsword was walking toward them across the frozen river with a little wolf pup at his side. Behind him, an army too large to take in at a glance crossed the ice, carrying direwolf and squid banners.
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