The King of Winters

Chapter 63

So Lord Leyton is sporting his King's colors, not his foolish grandson's. My work here might come in quite handy after all, Jorah sighed. Like everyone else at court it was shocking for Jorah Mormont when King Rhaegar chose him to take command of the royal fleet in their voyage to join forces with the Redwyne fleet. He couldn't understand why such an important task was given to a northman like , until Oldtown came into the talk. Unlike the other great houses of the Reach, the Hightowers were close kin to the Starks of Winterfell. Lord Leyton Hightower was the great grandfather of the rebel king Andrew Stark through his mother's side. Lord Leyton had stayed his hands in the wars between the crown and the Outlaw King in the past. For Eddard Stark was married to his granddaughter. Since the return of Stark's son, there has been whispers of how Lord Hightower had been scheming with his grandson against the crown. It was then Jorah was chosen to lead the expedition. King Rhaegar chose him not because of his ability to lead but because he is Lord Leyton's goodson, putting Lord Hightower in a position to choose between his families.

The captain of the Huntress was a tall man in a smoke-grey cloak with a border of red satin flames. He brought his galley in alongside the Dragonborn, raised his oars, and shouted that he was coming aboard. As his crossbowmen and the Hightower archers eyed each other across the narrow span of water, the captain crossed over with half a dozen knights, gave Jorah a nod.

"My apologies," the captain said when he was done with the greetings. "It grieves me that our loyal friends must suffer such discomfort to enter our lands, but sooner that than the rebels in Oldtown. Only a fortnight ago some of those bloody bastards captured a Tyroshi merchantman in the straits. They captured her crew, donned their clothes, and used the dyes they found to color theirs whiskers half a hundred colors. Once inside the walls they meant to set the port and the Redwyne fleet ablaze and open a gate from within whilst we fought the fire. Might have worked, but they ran afoul of the Lady of the Tower, and her oarsmaster has a Tyroshi wife. When he saw all the green and purple beards he hailed them in the tongue of Tyrosh, and not one of them had the words to hail him back."

Jorah was shocked. "They cannot mean to capture Oldtown."

The captain of the Huntress gave him a curious look. "These are no mere sellswords. Half a hundred of their ships afflict us now, sailing out of the Shield Islands and some of the rocks around the Arbor. We couldn't sail for the north leaving them behind. Now that you are here we can deal with them soon enough."

"What is Lord Hightower doing?" Jorah asked. Surely he must be doing something. He was as wealthy as the Lannisters, and could command thrice as many swords as any of Highgarden's other bannermen.

"He is just following our good king's orders," the captain said, "waiting to join our strength with yours."

"The Hightower must be doing something."

"To be sure. Lord Leyton's locked atop his tower with the Mad Maid, consulting books of spells. Might be he'll raise an army from the deeps. Or not. Baelor's building galleys, Gunthor has charge of the harbor, Garth is training new recruits, and Humfrey's gone to Lys to hire sellsails. If he can winkle a proper fleet, we can start moving for the north without worrying a thing. Till then, the best we can do is destroy the enemy fleet at sea before moving anywhere else."

The bitterness of the captain's final words shocked Jorah as much as the things he said. If King's Landing loses Oldtown and the Arbor, the whole realm will fall to pieces, he thought as he watched the Huntress and her sisters moving off.

They reached Oldtown on a cold damp morning, when the fog was so thick that the beacon of the Hightower was the only part of the city to be seen. A boom stretched across the harbor, linking two dozen rotted hulks. Just behind it stood a line of warships, anchored by three big dromonds and Lord Hightower's towering four-decked banner ship, the Honor of Oldtown. Lord Redwyne's fleet had their own place in the port. Lord Leyton's son Gunthor eyed him from the port gate, dressed in a cloth-of-silver cloak and a suit of grey enameled scales. Ser Gunthor was an able man and had studied at the Citadel for several years and spoke different languages, but he had no words for his dishonored goodbrother.