Ormund Hightower’s expression visibly changed.
He clasped his hands before his stomach and spoke in a respectful tone.
“Prince, you misunderstand me.”
“I am merely concerned that by eating meat, you might anger the Seven and further damage what little health you have left.
If the king were to blame me for it…”
What Ormund Hightower meant was simple: You’re the one courting death, boy.
Don’t drag my family into the flames with you.
Baelon understood perfectly.
He slowly lowered the bread in his hand and replied with deliberate sarcasm.
“Oh?
Then, Lord Ormund Hightower, are you saying…”
“As the eldest son of House Targaryen and the future heir to the Iron Throne, I am to be punished by my own father simply because I ate a little pork sausage?”
Ormund Hightower had not expected the prince to be so direct.
He was caught completely off guard, stammering for a long moment without being able to produce a respectable answer.
“My apologies, Prince.
Everything I said just now was the result of my own foolish thinking.
It has nothing whatsoever to do with my family.
Please forgive me!”
With no way out, Ormund Hightower could only bow his head and admit his mistake.
This time, it was Baelon’s turn to play dumb.
“Were we not merely discussing the matter?
There is no right or wrong in a discussion.
Why are you apologizing?”
“I… I…”
Just as Ormund Hightower was at a complete loss for words, the captain of his household guard hurriedly pushed open the doors and delivered a letter carried by raven into his hands.
“My lord, this has arrived from King’s Landing.
It concerns the war in the Stepstones.
Lord Otto wishes for your reply as soon as possible.”
Ormund Hightower felt as though he had been granted a reprieve from the Seven themselves.
He immediately turned toward Prince Baelon.
“My apologies, Your Highness.
A letter has arrived from King’s Landing, and I must attend to it first.”
“Do not let me keep you.
We shall discuss this matter again another time.”
Baelon nodded.
Ormund Hightower was genuinely flustered this time.
He hurried out of the Great Sept without even managing the most basic farewell.
After suffering such an embarrassing defeat today, Baelon suspected that Ormund Hightower would want nothing to do with him for quite some time.
The prospect of enjoying a few peaceful days put Baelon in such a good mood that he even ate two extra pieces of bread at lunch.
One day later, the eldest daughter of Viserys I Targaryen, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, known throughout the realm as the “Realm’s Delight,” arrived in Oldtown astride her dragon, Syrax.
Ormund Hightower personally led his bannermen, children, a number of maesters, and several members of the Faith out of the city to welcome her.
At the same time, he could not help wondering why the princess had suddenly come to Oldtown.
“Lord Ormund Hightower, Lord of Oldtown and head of House Hightower, together with his children and bannermen, welcomes Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, eldest daughter of His Grace, King Viserys I!”
“May the Seven bless you with eternal beauty and everlasting health!”
“Thank you, Lord Hightower.
Please take me to see my brother.”
Rhaenyra dismounted from Syrax, maintaining a polite smile on her face.
“I am terribly sorry, Princess, but the prince is currently performing his penance before the Seven.
You will have to wait for a while.”
Ormund Hightower had been left seething with anger after his encounter with Baelon the previous day.
Yet because Baelon was the king’s eldest son, there was little he could do to him openly.
All he could do was manipulate the prince’s penance before the Seven and delay the siblings’ reunion.
“What state is my brother’s health in?
And you still make him kneel until noon?!”
Rhaenyra was furious.
This was no penance!
House Hightower was clearly trying to torture her brother to death by slowly wearing down his already frail body, all under the most righteous-sounding pretext imaginable.
Once Baelon was dead, they could put Aegon, who carried Hightower blood through his mother, on the Iron Throne!
“Please forgive us, Princess.
These are the instructions and guidance of the Seven.
We are merely carrying them out.”
Ormund Hightower threw the most righteous justification imaginable straight back at her.
“You!”
For a moment, Rhaenyra was left speechless.
Just as the confrontation reached an impasse, Maester Orwyle slowly stepped forward and turned the situation back in Rhaenyra’s favor.
“Lord Hightower, the prince’s health has been steadily deteriorating.
A month ago, the king specifically granted permission for the prince not to kneel for excessively long periods and authorized him to consume a certain amount of meat.”
“Maester Orwyle, did you not say that the king only permitted the prince to eat a limited amount of meat?” Ormund demanded.
“Yes.
But he also ordered that the prince was not to kneel for excessively long periods.”
“Furthermore, as the head of House Hightower, should you not be even more familiar with such an order than a maester like myself?”
Orwyle argued calmly, taking care to land one final blow.
“I… I was helping the king gather provisions for the war in the Stepstones.
That was why I inadvertently overlooked the king’s letter and the prince!”
Ormund Hightower produced the most respectable excuse he could think of.
Rhaenyra, however, had no intention of letting him escape.
“House Hightower ignored an order issued by the king and, in doing so, indirectly abused the heir to the Seven Kingdoms.
According to the law, Lord Hightower, what punishment do you deserve?”
Her left hand rested on the sword at her waist as she advanced step by step.
Otto’s influence in King’s Landing had grown greater with every passing day.
He had not only driven her uncle Daemon away, but was now trying to steal the throne that belonged to her brother and bind the power of the crown permanently to House Hightower.
Now Ormund Hightower had made such a potentially fatal mistake of his own accord.
Rhaenyra would never surrender such an opportunity to strike at House Hightower.
Syrax sensed Rhaenyra’s emotions.
The great dragon stretched her head out from the side and fixed her eyes upon Ormund Hightower.
Seeing this, the sellsword knights in Hightower service refused to be intimidated.
They drew their longswords and stepped in front of Ormund Hightower.
The atmosphere became utterly taut.
Neither Rhaenyra nor Ormund was willing to retreat even a single step.
Just then, Baelon appeared.
Dressed entirely in black, the prince heard the confrontation and came slowly toward them, leaning on a wooden walking stick.
“Sister, you’ve already come all the way to Oldtown.
How could you not come see your favorite younger brother first?”
“Of course you’re the one I wanted to see most.”
Rhaenyra smiled as she spoke.
Then her tone suddenly changed, and she began sending Baelon increasingly obvious hints to cooperate with her.
“It’s just that there are so many filth and vermin gathered around the gates of Oldtown.
I’m considering whether I should clean them out.”
“Oh?
There are filth and vermin here?”
Baelon pretended to be surprised.
“Lord Ormund, the Great Sept of the Seven is located here in Oldtown.
As one of the Seven’s faithful, is this how you perform your duties?”
Rhaenyra stared at Baelon in disbelief.
Was he… helping Ormund Hightower get out of this?
Ormund Hightower, however, was ecstatic.
He immediately dropped to one knee before Baelon.
“Please forgive me, Your Highness.
I shall send men to clean away the filth at once.
I promise you, such a mistake will never happen again.”
As he spoke, he waved his hand, signaling the sworn knights to disperse and clear a path for Rhaenyra.
This time, before Baelon could say anything, Rhaenyra behaved like a lion that had broken free of its chains.
She grabbed Baelon by the arm and angrily dragged him toward the Great Sept of the Seven.
Inside the Great Sept of the Seven.
“Baelon, do you have any idea what you just did?
That was one of the few opportunities we have had to openly bring Ormund down.
We could even have had him executed!”
Rhaenyra paced back and forth furiously.
“I don’t understand.
Why did you help him get away?!”
If Baelon’s body had not been so frail, she would have been tempted to beat him black and blue before finding a competent maester to examine his head and determine whether his brain had been burned to ash.
Otherwise, how could he possibly say something so foolish?
“Sister, listen to me first.”
Baelon took Rhaenyra’s hand and guided her to sit beside him.
He then looked up at Maester Orwyle.
Orwyle immediately understood.
He rose and went outside to keep watch.
“Sister, let me ask you something.
How many children does Ormund Hightower have?”
“Two daughters.
Why?”
“And Otto?”
“Children… both a son and a daughter.”
Rhaenyra visibly froze.
At that moment, the answer was almost impossible to miss.
Baelon nodded.
“Exactly.
Even if we used this incident as an excuse to have Ormund Hightower executed, his bannermen would simply support Otto as his successor.
Because Otto has a son.”
“I don’t want another enemy who can juggle both the position of head of House Hightower and that of former Hand of the King.”
“More importantly, I have no intention of handing an advantage to that Otto.”