With the Great Council concluded, the lords departed King’s Landing one by one.
The city slowly returned to its usual rhythm.
Viserys also prepared to release Otto and allow him to leave with his brother, Lord Hightower.
When Daemon heard the news, he rushed straight to Baelon.
It was obvious he truly wanted Otto dead.
Once Otto rode out with House Hightower, Daemon would lose any chance to intercept him.
After hearing the report, Baelon thought for a moment, then had Daemon wheel him to Viserys’s chambers.
The moment they entered, Viserys understood exactly why they had come.
“Daemon, Baelon… the truth is out. You both know what really happened. There’s no reason to keep holding Otto any longer.”
“He’s already been removed from the center of power. Let it end here.”
Daemon’s brow furrowed sharply.
“Brother, he’s still a threat!”
“Daemon, he committed no overt crime. And he served as Hand to two kings.”
Daemon opened his mouth again, but Baelon gently patted the hand resting on his wheelchair and spoke first.
“Father, I understand what you’re saying. Let Lord Hightower leave first. I want to speak with Otto myself.”
“If House Hightower is uneasy, they can leave some guards behind to protect him. After I’ve talked to him, I’ll let him go.”
“Must it be this way?”
Baelon met Viserys’s eyes steadily.
“Father, I don’t want the royal family shamed, and I don’t want this matter to grow any larger.”
“You know I haven’t slept properly in a long time.”
“There are no perfect solutions in this world. Sometimes you can only choose one path and walk it without looking back.”
“You already made your choice at the Great Council. My sister is now the confirmed heir. You should stand by that decision more firmly.”
Viserys let out a long sigh and leaned back in his chair.
“Do as you wish.”
“Just remember — don’t cause any trouble. Otto must leave King’s Landing safely, and your safety must be guaranteed.”
Baelon knew this was the greatest concession Viserys was willing to make.
He nodded without hesitation.
Two days later, once it was confirmed that House Hightower’s men had left the Crownlands, Baelon finally went down to the damp, lightless black cells with Ser Criston Cole.
Otto Hightower no longer looked like the Hand of the King.
He sat slumped in the corner of his cell.
When he saw Baelon, Otto forced himself to stand and offered a slight bow.
“Your Grace.”
Baelon sat in his wheelchair, smiling as he regarded the disheveled but still courteous man.
“Are you comfortable here, former Hand?”
A flicker of barely hidden regret and anger crossed Otto’s face before he buried it beneath humility.
“Thanks to you and His Grace, I’ve managed to adapt.”
“You have nothing to say in your defense? That the man who tried to kill me wasn’t acting on your orders? That you never wished harm on my sister or me?”
Otto shook his head.
“Your Grace, there’s nothing left for me to say at this point. I only wonder whether you found any evidence… and what you intend to do with me.”
Baelon studied him with a half-smile.
“I imagine you were hoping I had evidence.”
“Unfortunately, my uncle’s Gold Cloaks proved useless. They found nothing. Your only crimes are failing to control your subordinates and repeatedly defying the king.”
“As for what happens to you, that’s my father’s decision. He’s always been merciful. He’s already prepared to banish you from King’s Landing.”
Otto stared at him for a long moment.
“Your Grace, I thought this entire affair was Daemon’s doing. Only now do I understand — you were the one pulling the strings all along.”
“You didn’t need to go this far. I have always acted for the good of the realm and the smallfolk. With the intelligence you’ve shown—”
Baelon cut him off before he could finish the hypocritical speech.
“You would have killed me at the first opportunity, wouldn’t you?”
Otto had no answer.
Baelon had no interest in staying any longer.
With Cole pushing the wheelchair, he left the black cells without another word.
At the dungeon entrance, Daemon was leaning against the wall.
When Baelon appeared, he asked, “You came all the way down here just to mock him?”
Baelon looked up at his uncle.
“You can call it the petty spite of a child.”
Daemon flicked Baelon lightly on the forehead.
“You’re starting to look like you need a good beating, you know that?”
“Uncle, Otto won’t be leaving King’s Landing by the usual route.”
Daemon frowned.
“Why go to the extra trouble?”
“Because an attack on the Roseroad would be too conspicuous and too easy to trace. Bandits on a smaller road look far more natural.”
The next day, Otto left King’s Landing under the protection of more than a dozen Hightower guards.
The moment they were outside the city, Otto summoned one guard into his carriage.
After the man left, he split off from the main group with several others and rode hard toward the Blackwater.
At the same time, a large merchant caravan — heavy on men, light on goods — also departed King’s Landing and headed in the same direction.
From the narrow gap in his carriage window, Otto watched the caravan with cold, vengeful eyes before closing the curtain again.
Inside the Red Keep, Daemon tossed a raven out the window and watched it fly away.
That night, at the place where the Blackwater Rush met the God’s Eye, a fierce battle erupted.
All five Hightower guards and every one of their attackers died.
Blood turned the river red and flowed toward the sea.
A Gold Cloak slipped into Daemon’s chambers under cover of darkness.
“Lord Hand, the trouble at the Blackwater has been cleaned up. But we found no sign of Otto Hightower’s body.”
Daemon shot to his feet and strode straight to Baelon’s room.
The instant he pushed the door open, Cole’s sword was at his chest.
Daemon ignored it.
He shut the door and looked at Baelon, who was just waking.
“Kid, your plan failed. Otto wasn’t with the guards.”
Baelon pushed himself upright with effort, thinking, The Hand doesn’t read petitions anymore — he’s studying military strategy?
Don’t tell me he also crossed over.
Daemon pressed him.
“What do we do now? Should I take Caraxes and go after him?”
Baelon rubbed his still-heavy eyes.
“Uncle, it’s over. The best choice now is to let it go. If we keep pushing, we’ll be the ones who look bad.”
“After what just happened, we can’t afford to wipe out the rest of House Hightower’s men on the Roseroad. It would be too obvious.”
“Otto spent years as Hand. He still has some skill. This isn’t on us. Sometimes the mountain is high and the river runs deep.”
Daemon was clearly unwilling.
“We’re just going to let him return to Oldtown?”
Baelon spoke calmly.
“Uncle, without the Handship, Otto is just a capable second son. He has an older brother. He has nephews. Even if he goes back to Oldtown, he won’t be able to stir up much trouble. There’s no point damaging our own reputation over it.”