The Dragon's Legacy

Chapter Sixty-Three

As they passed the gates of Oldtown, the smell of burning stones reached Lyle Hightower's nose.

He could not believe it.

When he was sent to Highgarden as a ward, the Oldtown smelled like lilacs and knowledge, but now it smelled like burning irons and burning woods and stones, even now after some time after being burned.

Lyle knocked on the back of the carriage and spoke calmly. "Stop the carriage." and upon that, Carriage stopped moving. Lyle gently pushed the door open and exited the carriage.

"My lord? What are you doing?" One of the Warrior's sons who was riding on a horse asked as he looked at Lyle Hightower.

Lyle was a tall, slender and handsome young man of barely sixteen, with shoulder-length ashen blonde hair and bottle green eyes, with sharp cheekbones and sharp jawline and heart shaped lips.

"I will walk to Hightower by myself, Ser. You go on ahead." Lyle said calmly as he looked at the soldier. "Tell everyone to not worry."

"As you say, my Lord." The soldier spoke as he nodded and the carriage and troops of men began to ride away, leaving Lyle Hightower at the gates of the city he had inherited, for they knew the people of the city would not harm their young and green Lord.

As his legs began to move him in the streets of Oldtown, Lyle's eyes began to look around him as he watched the horror that his cousin had unleashed upon Oldtown.

The devastation that was caused was horrid. The lifeless bodies were wrapped in white sheets, ready for a burial worthy of those who wished the Seven faithfully, even though they were not kept safe from dragon fire. Lyle thought to himself. May Mother bless and forgive your souls...

In each corner of the city, Septas and Maesters offered clothes, medicine and warm food to the people who had lost their belongings to dragon fire.

Lyle's eyes fell on a very old maester who could barely stand up with his walking stick, but yet with a warm and fatherly smile, he handed bowls of warm soup to those who Daemion Targaryen had made homeless.

The old Maester's devotion warmed Lyle's heart, which made him to walk to the old maester and spoke calmly. "Good morning to you, Sir."

The old maester calmly and slowly turned his weak eyes, obvious that he struggled with his vision, toward Lyle and offered him a gentle smile. "Good morning to you as well, young man. You do not appear to be in need of clothes. Do you require milk of the puppy? Do you want a bowl of warm soup?"

Lyle raised his hand as he shook his hand and smiled gently in return. "No, but thank you. I am not in need of anything, kind sir." Lyle spoke calmly as he stood firm and asked. "Are the people of the city receiving the attention that they require to once more build and gain what they lost in the dragonflame?"

The old maester sighed as he poured warm soup for a man in need and looked at Lyle. "Over time, of course. I pray our Lord Lyle Hightower reaches Oldtown as soon as possible. The city needs a leader."

"How can he?" Lyle asked softly.

"Through what most men have forgotten, through love. Love for this city and its people." The old maester spoke calmly as he poured another bowl of soup and handed it to another. "Morgan Hightower and Martyn Hightower were good men, but they forgot that their first duty was to Oldtown and not to a rebellion against dragons... I hope young Lyle Hightower knows that..." The old maester spoke softly.

Lyle did not know what to say. He simply smiled a gentle smile and spoke calmly. "If there were only more men like you... Perhaps the world would have been a better place."