Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 432: Infighting in Highgarden

The next day.

The sun hung high in the sky, its scorching heat intense enough to dry up the stream. But the fervor of the Reach nobles, burning with vengeance, eclipsed even the sun's intensity.

Outside the circular walls of Highgarden, armies stretched as far as the eye could see. Among the troops, various banners flew: a white inverted triangle on a green background, golden cranes on blue, and a red and gold fox's head. These were the noble families directly below Highgarden, who had gathered overnight to offer their support.

It was noon, and the sun was shining brightly. Still, more nobles arrived from all directions, swelling the ranks of the Reach Coalition army. The assassination of the Warden of the South was an affront to all the Reach, stirring up memories of past conflicts with Dorne.

Outside the city walls, tens of thousands of troops gathered, and the atmosphere grew increasingly oppressive. Inside Highgarden, nobles streamed into the great hall, the tension palpable.

Margaery, dressed in a green gauze dress, stood before the assembled nobles and told the story of her father's death. Her speech was eloquent and moving, stirring anger and grief in her audience.

In contrast, Lady Alyssa, her eyes filled with tears, was supported by several noblewomen as she struggled to maintain her composure, her face pale.

By the end of the speech, the ice in the buckets had melted from the heat of the passionate nobles. Ormund, his face stern, interrupted Margaery's flow of words. "Lady Margaery, I understand your grief. Your father was my lord too."

Margaery paused and looked up at Ormund Hightower, who had been the first to arrive after her father's death. His quick arrival was suspicious.

Margaery's brown eyes flashed with suspicion. "Lord Ormund, what do you have to say?"

Once suspicion arises, it must be tested.

Ormund looked around and cleared his throat. "Everyone, we are all deeply saddened by the death of Lord Tyrell, but our enemy is at our doorstep. The Dornish army is in the Red Mountains."

"So instead of mourning our loss, let us discuss the appointment of a commander and send our troops to avenge Lord Tyrell!"

As soon as he finished speaking, a middle-aged nobleman stood up. "House Tyrell has no male heirs, so they cannot lead the combined forces of The Reach." He wore a badge with golden cranes on a blue background, identifying him as a member of House Crane of Red Lake.

This house was directly under House Tyrell and had a close relationship with them. He was in Oldtown at the time of the assassination and was among the first to arrive in Highgarden.

Ormund took a few steps forward. "As we did in Oldtown, we must choose a commander together."

"Then that person should be Lord Thaddeus," another young nobleman with dark hair and eyes spoke up. He was dressed plainly, without ornaments, and carried a large sword at his side.

Someone else spoke up in agreement. "I support Lord Donald Tarly’s proposal. Lord Tyrell’s intention was to elect Lord Thaddeus."

There were voices of agreement and dissent. Several minor nobles spoke tactfully, saying, "The recruitment meeting did not decide on a suitable commander, and many have yet to agree."

Within a few words, the nobles in the hall were clearly divided into two camps. Some supported Hightower, while others respected Lord Tyrell's wishes. There were also fence-sitters who drank cup after cup of wine and remained silent.

Margaery clasped her hands together, analyzing the situation without saying a word. Her father had gone to Oldtown to recruit soldiers and to act as a deterrent to Hightower, whose aggression had been increasing.

It seemed that the deterrent effect had not been achieved. In fact, Hightower had rejected some of her father's proposals, leading to a verbal conflict.

Margaery knew that this was not the time to assert herself, so she quietly watched the nobles argue. After a long time, Ormund took the lead in the discussion, while Lord Thaddeus was not present. Ormund raised his chin arrogantly. "Lady Margaery, you are a woman and do not understand the cruelty of war. Lord Thaddeus can barely mount a horse. Do you think I am a suitable choice to command the allied forces?"

It seemed like a question, but it was actually a threat. He was clearly bullying the widow and her orphaned daughter, who had no male heir to stand up for them.

Margaery feigned distress and helplessness. "Prince Rhaegar is still investigating the true culprit. We should wait for his return before making a decision."

"The Prince?" Ormund's face changed slightly.

At this point, Helaena, who had been standing in the corner, ran up to Margaery and said softly, "Uncle Ormund, please wait for my brother to return."

Ormund's mouth twitched, and he grudgingly agreed. "Yes, Princess."

Helaena’s Hightower blood gave her words considerable weight. Margaery let out a sigh of relief and gave Helaena a look of deep gratitude. The little girl slapped Margaery's perky, round buttocks playfully and looked up proudly. Margaery blushed and tugged at the hem of her dress.

Silence once again fell over the hall.

But this time, the silence didn't last long.

"Roar!"

A muffled dragon roar echoed through the sky, and a dark dragon shadow landed in the inner courtyard of Highgarden.

"The prince is back."

"It's Prince Rhaegar..."

The nobles stood up and looked out of the hall. Through the green waterfall in the garden, they could faintly see the silhouette of a huge black dragon, resembling a mountain of coal.

Rhaegar walked into the hall, his silver hair hanging straight down, his purple eyes cold and unyielding. The nobles immediately sensed there was no good news. The murderer of Lord Tyrell had likely escaped.

Rhaegar did not say anything, and no one dared to press him. In truth, the mercenaries had indeed escaped. Rhaegar had ridden Cannibal through the farmland where the incident occurred, searching all routes from Highgarden to Nightsong and Oldtown, but found no trace of the perpetrators.

Simmering with anger, Rhaegar looked around at the assembled nobles and said coldly, "Is there any other lord who hasn't arrived yet?" freeweɓnøvel.com

He suspected that there must have been a traitor who had tipped off the old Tyrell location for the the assassination. The mercenaries had vanished without a trace, so someone must have helped them. He just didn't know who.

Rhaegar's eyes involuntarily fell on Ormund. Taken aback by Rhaegar's scrutiny, Ormund stammered, "Lord Thaddeus of Goldengrove hasn't arrived yet. He's gathering the northern armies of The Reach. There's also Caswell of Bitterbridge, Footly of Tumbleton..."

Many noble families were still gathering their troops, though they were far away.

Rhaegar's piercing gaze seemed to see through Ormund's innermost thoughts. Uncomfortable but experienced, Ormund changed the subject: "Prince, with Lord Tyrell dead, we should choose a commander and march the army to the Red Mountains to avenge his death."

The other nobles, feeling the invisible pressure of the heir prince, remained silent, but were of the same mind. Avenge Lord Tyrell's death and strike down the Dornish bastards. This was the ardent spirit of the Reach.

Rhaegar saw through Ormund's petty schemes and sensed the strong will of the assembled nobles. He turned to Margaery and asked bluntly, "Who was the commander of the Coalition army Lord Tyrell appointed before his death?"

He had no interest in competing for command of the forces of the Reach. His job was to control the overall situation and use the dragons to attack the enemy. Commanding the soldiers on land would have to be done by someone else. Asking Margaery was also a warning to Ormund.

Margaery did not disappoint, speaking quickly and clearly: "My father decided that Lord Thaddeus would be the commander, and he worked hard in King's Landing to make that happen."

Rhaegar looked at Ormund again, his expression stern. Ormund, suddenly speechless, sat back awkwardly in his chair.

It may be your song, but it's my dance.

Donald Tarly bowed respectfully and asked, "Prince, have the murderers of Lord Tyrell been captured?"

"No," Rhaegar replied, frowning. "The group moved very quickly and I suspect someone was helping them."

The crowd was in an uproar, looking at each other.

Rhaegar remained calm. The murder of old Tyrell was obvious to anyone with eyes to see. There was no need to hide the truth because of so-called concerns for unity.

Donald nodded calmly. "Highgarden has no male heirs, only Lady Alyssa and Lady Margaery. I suggest we strengthen our defenses."

Donald nodded calmly. "Highgarden has no male heirs, only Lady Alyssa and Lady Margaery. I suggest we strengthen our defenses.

The people of Dorne are treacherous and cunning, capable of any evil deed. The Mertyns of Mistwood were poisoned and had all their direct descendants killed. The Tyrells are a prominent family, and if their last remaining members were to meet with an accident, The Reach would be thrown into a maelstrom of competition for power.

Hearing this, the nobles' faces darkened slightly, casting uncertain glances at Alyssa and Margaery. Highgarden without an heir was a prize. Whoever married the widow Alyssa or Margaery would control The Reach for decades.

Margaery and Alyssa realized this, their hearts skipping a beat. Margaery crept up behind Rhaegar and gave him a pleading look. Rhaegar looked at her and understood her message: she wanted to be the heir and succeed as the next Lady of Highgarden.

Rhaegar frowned in disapproval. There were already two female lords. The kingdom had six regions, and having one or two female leaders was acceptable, but not three. The title "Lady" sounded novel, but there were countless scandals behind the scenes. Jeyne was strong-willed, intelligent, and determined; with Rhaegar's backing, she had crushed the opposition in the Vale. All she needed was a legitimate heir.

Cassandra, on the other hand, had inherited Storm's End and was essentially a figurehead. She couldn't go to war, and the Stormlands depended entirely on her grandfather Royce and royal support. Her political skills were almost nonexistent, and nobles such as House Dondarrion of Blackhaven and House Swann of Stonehelm resented her leadership.

Aemond

Now that House Swann was gone, Aemond had taken over, which was a mistake that weakened House Baratheon's foundation. Aemond was Cassandra's fiancé, raising suspicions about her involvement. Cassandra couldn't control her vassals or her fiancé. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm

Either she was truly incompetent, or she was utterly ineffective. It would have been better to choose Maris Baratheon, the second of the Four Storms, to inherit the title.

Rhaegar, lost in thought, ignored Margaery's plea, unwilling to make a hasty decision. A woman's strength lies in her intelligence, but Margaery's cleverness bordered on cunning. Imitating successful people rigidly was not a trait of a successful person.

Seeing Rhaegar's silence, Margaery stamped her foot in frustration and signaled subtly. Several minor nobles immediately stepped forward, first praising Donald's proposal, then hinting at choosing a regent from Highgarden.

"I recommend Lady Margaery. She may be a woman, but she is the only Tyrell in Highgarden at the moment," one person spoke directly.

Others disagreed, arguing, "Lady Alyssa is the widow; she should be the regent."

"With all due respect, Lady Alyssa is a second wife and has only been married to Lord Tyrell for a few months."

"So what? A widow regent is common in many noble houses."

"Lady Margaery is Lord Tyrell's youngest daughter. She is clever and intelligent, making her more convincing."

"They're all women. Who's to say they're not all the same?"

The crowd chattered, the tension palpable.

Donald pondered, "I recommend Lady Margaery. She is more familiar with Highgarden's situation."

House Tarly and House Rowan were in-laws, and House Rowan was a loyal supporter of House Tyrell. Donald's words carried weight. Rhaegar watched silently, more concerned about whether Ormund was involved in the old Tyrell's murder than the internal struggles within Highgarden.

As the wind of opinion shifted, Margaery smiled. Lady Alyssa, who had been quiet until now, gathered her courage and spoke. "My lords, I have only been married to Highgarden for a short time, but by the grace of the Sevens, I am already pregnant with my late husband's child."

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