"Have the Children of the Forest crossed the Wall?" Aemon frowned slightly.
Leaf quickly waved her hand. "No, they noticed I hadn't been heard from in ages, so they came to find me and make sure I was safe." The Children of the Forest have a hard time surviving, and she was the only one born in decades.
Aemon, hearing this, temporarily trusted her. "Come with me. You will know when you see them," Leaf said, turning to lead the way.
The Gods Eye, the Isle of Faces.
Aemon saw two male Children of the Forest wearing antler helms and bark armor. He wondered if this was a peculiarity of magical creatures. To Aemon, while female Children of the Forest looked strange, they at least conformed to human aesthetics. The males, on the other hand, were hideously ugly. Short and stocky, with brown skin and tangled hair, they were dressed like warriors and resembled the dwarves of legend.
"You are the King of the Vale. Thank you for your continued care for Leaf," a square-faced, stern-looking male Child of the Forest spoke, bowing solemnly. The other followed suit, comically mimicking his movements.
"Have you been to the Vale?" Aemon asked, turning to Leaf. After accurately locating her, they had spoken and then arranged to meet Aemon here. The Isle of Faces was a unique place, the site where the First Men and the Children of the Forest once signed their peace pact. To this day, a dozen dead, yet uncorrupted, weirwood trees still stand on its shores.
"We never thought a human would accept Leaf," sighed Acorn, the Child of the Forest who had spoken first. "Now that we know Leaf is alright, we can return home in peace." However, there was still one problem.
"Look, look," Leaf said, circling Aemon and pushing him toward a grove of dead weirwoods.
Boom! Boom!
The ground trembled, and a tall figure emerged from within the trees. Aemon's eyes widened, twinkling like a child seeing a favorite toy.
A giant.
"Hello…" the giant rumbled. He stood over seven meters tall, clad in tattered animal skins, and his voice was muffled and clumsy.
"Hello, big guy," Aemon said, tilting his head back to look the endangered creature over. He was truly tall and massive, but he wasn't majestic like the giants of legend. Instead, he looked like a simpleton, and his face was extremely ugly.
The giant lowered his head, staring at the "short" Aemon with wide eyes. "I… Chestnut. I am hungry," he said in a raspy voice.
Aemon felt a gust of foul breath wash over him and closed his eyes helplessly. When it passed, he turned to Leaf. "What is going on? Have giants crossed the Wall too?" Are the men of the Night's Watch blind?
Leaf explained, "Chestnut is taller and stronger than the other giants, and he eats a lot, so he was driven out by his tribe." In an unexpected turn of events, Chestnut had helped the Children drive off a pack of direwolves, rekindling their ancestral friendship. However, the Children were strictly vegetarian and could not afford to support Chestnut's massive appetite. The tribe had come to her hoping to secretly bring Chestnut to the "Vale Kingdom" and free him in the Mountains of the Moon, where life would be better.
"The North is brutally cold, and the Night's Watch is often undermanned," Leaf explained. "Some of their castles are frozen ruins. We use the small paths through these unguarded forts to bypass the Wall."
Aemon felt a flicker of frustration at the slackers in the Night's Watch, but he couldn't demand too much. It was hard enough for them to keep the wildlings at bay. "If I keep him here, will he obey?" Aemon asked, pointing at the giant.
"Of course. Giants are naturally simple creatures," Leaf nodded, like a chicken pecking at rice.
"Very well," Aemon said calmly. "I will take him in, reluctantly." Though he said so, he was secretly thrilled. A giant! One that exceeded the average height of three or four meters, reaching over seven. If he were to wear custom-forged rune armor, wielding a massive shield and a meteor hammer, he would be a relentless force of destruction on the battlefield. It would be a crime to find a giant and not give him armor and a weapon, wouldn't it? Of course it would.
"Come with me and I will fill your belly, big man," Aemon called to the giant.
"Thank… thank you," said Chestnut, a childlike smile of joy spreading across his ugly face. Seeing this, the two male Children said their goodbyes to Leaf and declared they were returning north of the Wall. Leaf was reluctant to let them go, but she still had a debt of over a decade to repay to Aemon.
Several days passed. News spread quickly that Lord Hobert Hightower, the "Voice of Oldtown," had fallen from his horse and was gravely wounded. His son, Ser Ormund Hightower, summoned his vassals and assembled a massive army, which he stationed on the banks of the Mander. Meanwhile, Highgarden refused to be outdone. The new Lord, Garlan Tyrell, sent his stepmother, Lady Desiree, to Goldengrove for her safety. He then summoned his own vassals, and the armies of the Reach converged. Though no one had yet declared their intentions, tensions were already high.
In Oldtown.
"Do not stop me! I want out!" Aegon's face flushed with anger as he struggled against his own guards.
"Please bear with it, Prince," Lord Lyman Beesbury pleaded breathlessly beside him. The Reach was in turmoil. At this point, Lord Lyman would normally have retreated to his own keep and locked himself away, but having been in Oldtown from the start, he could not flee. Prince Aegon, now the symbolic pillar of the Hightower cause, was being closely watched by Ser Ormund's men.
"Does he dare stop me from leaving?" Aegon raged. He still wanted to admire the beauties of the Reach and engage in a love affair with one of its fair maidens.
"Of course not, Your Highness," Lord Lyman said quickly. "But you are a precious charge, and the Reach is in chaos. I beg you, ride your dragon back to King's Landing."
"I will not go back!" Aegon flatly refused. He hadn't yet tasted the pleasures of the Reach. Why would he return to the suffering of King's Landing?
"Then please, settle down. Oldtown has plenty to offer," Lord Lyman pleaded.
Aegon was reluctant. At that moment, Larys descended from the upper floor, cane in hand. "Highgarden and Oldtown are at loggerheads," he said with a smile. "With Prince Aegon in charge of Oldtown, I am sure the nobles of the Reach will all give way."
Aegon glanced at him, silently puffing out his chest.
"We all know the fire at Highgarden had nothing to do with the Hightowers," Larys continued, his voice feigning disappointment. "But Lord Hobert's fall from his horse is inextricably linked to Highgarden. At a time like this, we need a powerful and wise conqueror to lead the cause and uphold justice."
"Exactly!" Aegon said, dropping all pretense, convinced he was the man Larys described.
Larys declared solemnly, "Oldtown needs you, and it needs your dragon!"
"Exactly!" Aegon raised his voice.
Finally, the cripple had tricked the fool into his camp. Excited, Aegon ran back upstairs, insisting on donning his armor.
"You…" Lord Lyman was furious, turning on Larys. "Does Lord Lyonel know what you are doing here?" The reputation of Larys "Clubfoot" was well-known in King's Landing.
"Prince Aemon entrusted me with this important task," Larys said, using the prince's name as his shield.
"Prince Aemon? What could he possibly ask you to do?" Lord Lyman was even more suspicious.
Larys's smile faded. "If you do not believe me," he said, his head lowered as if his pride had been stung, "you may write to Harrenhal." With that, he limped up the stairs.
Lord Lyman frowned, staring at his back in deep thought. After a while, he let the matter go, distracted by a more pressing concern. "Where is Prince Aemond?" he asked worriedly. May the Seven protect him. My old bones cannot withstand this torment.
Goldengrove.
An ugly, mud-brown dragon sprawled on a pile of fallen apples, roasting a plump lamb over a fire scented by the fruitwood. Inside the Hall of the Golden Apples, Aemond stood quietly, watching the people moving about.
Lord Thaddeus Rowan, his face etched with worry, muttered, "What should I do?" His new liege, Garlan Tyrell, had ordered him to mobilize his army in support of Highgarden. As House Rowan controlled half the northern Reach, mobilizing them meant a real war would begin.
"Alas, I hope the King will intervene," Thaddeus sighed. This was not a war he wished to fight. Even if they were victorious, House Rowan would only suffer losses. "Cunning Garlan Tyrell," he cursed in his heart. The young lord had claimed he was sending his stepmother, Lady Desiree, to Goldengrove for her safety, but in truth, it was a way to force his hand. With the old lord's widow under his roof, he could not stay out of the conflict.
Aemond remained silent, his eyes fixed on the topographic map of the Reach hanging on the wall. He had just arrived this morning. Remembering that Lord Thaddeus had once been a marriage candidate for his sister, he had used that as a pretext to borrow the man's famously detailed map.
After a while, Aemond took a fancy to the Mander River basin on the map and walked closer to observe it carefully.
"Are you interested in the map, Prince?" Thaddeus asked, having composed himself and moved closer to the prince.
Aemond nodded. "The Reach is very large."
"The Mander River originates near the Shield Islands, flows inland past Highgarden, and branches out throughout the Reach," Thaddeus explained, pointing to the map. "Except for Goldengrove in the north, the main stream runs from west to east. Along the way are Cider Hall, Longtable, Bitterbridge, and Tumblestone." It was the Mander that made the lands of the Reach so fertile and able to support so many noble houses.
"Is there any land suitable for cultivation now?" Aemond asked.
Thaddeus thought for a moment. "Yes, there is, but the good land is already owned, and clearing new land is difficult."
Aemond nodded slowly. But in his heart, he thought, Clearing land is laborious. What if one could find some that is ready-made?
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