Chapter 709

"Move?"

Baelor Hightower’s heart lurched.

He had only just lowered himself into his seat when the words struck him like a thunderclap, making him hesitate before fully settling in. His back went rigid, and he forced a confused expression, shaking his head.

"I don’t understand, Lord Hand."

"I believe you do," Aegor replied coolly, casting an unimpressed glance at the man’s act.

"But for the sake of argument, let’s assume Lord Tyrell neglected to inform you. And let’s assume that House Hightower has been woefully out of touch with current affairs.

"The Queen has decided to invite the great lords of the Reach to reside in King’s Landing for the next two years—so that she may better know them, foster trust, and strengthen the bonds between ruler and vassal."

Aegor leaned forward slightly, his tone turning sharper.

"This is not a request.

"This is the Queen’s decision.

"There is no room for negotiation."

Two years?

Baelor felt his mouth go dry.

He forced himself to smile, though the muscles in his face twitched.

"But surely… such an arrangement is meant for houses that surrendered after resisting Your Grace’s armies?"

"House Hightower never openly rebelled," he pointed out carefully.

"We never raised swords against the Queen’s forces. We submitted willingly.

"Surely, our loyalty should not be regarded in the same light as those who fought before surrendering?"

"Ah. Loyalty."

Aegor let the word linger, drumming his fingers against the armrest of his chair, as if amused by the argument.

"An interesting distinction, Ser Baelor.

"You believe that simply not taking up arms against the Queen constitutes loyalty."

He tilted his head.

"But tell me—what if, instead of standing aside, House Hightower had publicly declared for the Queen before the battle at Highgarden?

"What if you had actively hindered the Reach’s war effort—delaying recruitment, obstructing supply lines?

"What if, during the battle itself, you had led your banners in a flanking maneuver against the enemy’s rear?"

Aegor’s gaze turned pointed.

"That would have been true loyalty."

"And, of course…" He smiled slightly, flicking his gaze toward the man seated beside Baelor.

"It would have meant betraying your direct liege lord, Lord Tyrell, and demonstrating a complete lack of feudal integrity."

Mace Tyrell’s expression twisted into something ugly, his thick lips tightening into a grimace.

Aegor let the moment stretch, before turning back to Baelor.

"But let’s not waste time debating the finer points of loyalty.

"The Queen’s stance is simple:

"All Reach lords on her list are required to accept her invitation.

"Whether you surrendered early or late—whether you call it submission or loyalty—it is irrelevant."

Baelor was momentarily stunned by how blunt Aegor was.

From House Hightower’s perspective, they had done everything by the book: they had stayed neutral, they had graciously opened their gates, and they had formally submitted with proper decorum.

They had expected that, at worst, they would be met with cold courtesy.

And yet…

This damned Hand of the Queen was treating them as if they had committed some personal offense.

Rumors claimed that Aegor Wester had a long memory for grudges.

Surely, he wasn’t still bitter about House Hightower ignoring his Night’s Watch investment pitch all those years ago…

Was he?

Baelor swallowed hard.

"House Hightower acknowledges that we could have been… more resolute in our support of Her Grace from the start."

Realizing that sending Aegor away was no longer an option, Baelor chose the next-best path: damage control.

"We are willing to offer appropriate military reparations—"

"That is a separate matter," Aegor interrupted, waving a hand dismissively.

"Compensation? Fines? That is between you and the Queen, should she choose to demand it.

"But the matter of relocation?

"That is non-negotiable.

"You have one week to make your arrangements.

"If you are not prepared by then…

"I will take you to King’s Landing myself."

Baelor’s knuckles whitened against the table.

"Surely, Lord Hand—"

"Surely what, Ser Baelor?"

The voice came from Mace Tyrell, and this time, it was furious.

The corpulent Lord of Highgarden had been seething in silence until now, but hearing Baelor attempt to paint House Hightower as loyal was too much.

"You dare speak of loyalty?"

"You defied my summons! You refused to answer the call of your liege lord!

"You let thousands of Reachmen march to war while you sat behind your tower!"

Mace spat on the floor, his fury momentarily overriding his usual blustering nature.

"Loyalty?"

"I call it what it is—treachery! I should have burned you myself!"

His outburst sent ripples through the chamber.

Baelor’s smile froze.

The High Septon, who had been listening in silence until now, saw his chance to intervene.

"Lord Tyrell," the fat holy man rumbled, shaking his head gravely, "you misunderstand.

"Lord Leyton Hightower did not defy your summons of his own volition.

"It was I who intervened."

The High Septon placed a hand over his heart, adopting a solemn expression.

"Through prayer and fasting—seven days and seven nights without food or water—the Seven granted me a vision.

"And in that vision, I saw Queen Daenerys, the true ruler of Westeros.

"I understood that to stand against her was to invite annihilation.

"So I came to Oldtown and begged Lord Hightower not to march against her."

Mace Tyrell’s bloodshot eyes widened.

Then his face twisted in unfiltered contempt.

"Shut your lying mouth, you fat fraud!"

He slammed a fist against the table.

"This is the same nonsense House Hightower pulled three hundred years ago! You think you can just invoke divine will to justify your cowardice?"

Aegor sat back, watching the spectacle with amusement.

A divided Reach suited him just fine.

But as entertaining as this was, he had more important matters to attend to.

"Enough," he said, voice sharp.

The room fell silent.

Aegor turned back to Baelor, his expression unreadable.

"Ser Baelor," he said smoothly, "if House Hightower is so steadfast in its devotion to the Queen, why do you resist her invitation?"

"You will keep your lands, your titles, your privileges.

"You will simply enjoy a temporary stay in the capital."

His voice turned softer, almost mockingly so.

"Surely you do not doubt the Queen’s ability to maintain order in Oldtown while you are away?"

The tension in the chamber was palpable.

The Archmaester, Perestan, finally spoke, his aged voice measured and deliberate.

"Lord Hand," he said carefully, "Oldtown is not just another noble holding. It is the second largest city in the realm.

"Only House Hightower has the experience and influence to govern it properly."

He hesitated, then added:

"Moving them to King’s Landing may cause… disruptions."

Aegor’s expression darkened.

Disruptions?

No.

That was a threat.