Ser Garth 'Greysteel' Hightower

It was a strange feeling being the second son, he had never expected to inherit anything truly, Oldtown was big enough that his father would not really need to give him a holdfast or any other such holdings, he would most likely have been given a job and a house within the city or continued to live in the Hightower. And then he had been wed to Janna Tyrell, the sister of Mace Tyrell Lord of Highgarden and Warden of the South. The marriage had come as a surprise to both Garth and his father, the voice of Oldtown Lord Leyton Hightower, Mace was already wed to Garth's older sister Alerie, a love match more than anything and so House Hightower had been content with knowing the future generation of Tyrells would be half Hightower, this proposal had truly come out of the middle of nowhere.

And then Garth had thought about it, and it had all made sense. Mace Tyrell was nothing but ambitious and his mother the Queen of Thorns was all for furthering the status of House Tyrell. It was no secret that Garth having spent his childhood in King's Landing was close to King Aemon, and now that the King was finally coming towards the age of maturity, no doubt the Tyrells wanted to have an ear with the king. After all their bid for more power by siding with Aerys during the struggles, had not exactly paid off, Aerys slipping further and further into madness and it was all a big mess.

Garth's wife was a nice lady, if somewhat shy. Though when she opened her mouth to speak, you listened for what she said always made sense and was always interesting. Garth who having grown up in King's Landing but by virtue of being a Hightower was quite book smart revelled in having a companion with whom he could discuss some of the more intricate points of life and the works that they read without being laughed at, as had so often happened in King's Landing when he had tried such a thing with the king, Brandon or Elbert.

He was fond of her if nothing else, he was not quite sure what love was to be perfectly honest. Oh he had seen it for sure in the way the king looked at the queen, but he had never really experienced it preferring to immerse himself in his books and his sword play. Women were just there, a nuisance unless they served a particular purpose; he was not one for wenching nor for love songs of any kind. He did often wonder why it were that his friends, his best friends were the types to indulge in those sort of things, and once again pondered the meaning of life.

Of course the war had then broken out, the war they had all thought inevitable once Harrenhal had failed. Aerys had led a coup on Aemon and the king's brother Viserys was killed and banners were called and the kingdoms were in chaos. Mace Tyrell the bumbling idiot had declared for Aerys, despite the man being mad as a hatter and his son Rhaegar have absconded with a noble lady. All to have his infant daughter as queen Alerie wrote, she begged her family to remain neutral until the war was further on, and so Lord Leyton had for once decided to listen to his children and the Hightowers had remained neutral until now.

The Reach was burning because of Mace's folly, men were dying and women and children were suffering through a drought that had not been seen since the struggles. It was chaos and Lord Leyton had eventually declared enough was enough and had called his banners and together with Lord Randyll Tarly they had combined forces and marched on a raiding campaign of the Tyrell Loyalists houses. Taking their food and gold, and taking their castles one by one until Mace Tyrell the fat oaf felt threatened enough to come rushing back from the south. Highgarden was the target, capture Highgarden and Mace Tyrell would come rushing back for what was a lord without his seat of power.

Garth's father had fallen in combat against the Lords of the Shield Islands, taking a severe wound to the chest that had eventually cost him his life. Garth's elder brother Baelor was now Lord of Oldtown and the Hightower. His brother was many things, a joker, a smart and cunning man but a warrior he was not, and so Baelor had given Garth the command over the main body of troops and taken a small number to put the Shield Islands to the sword. News had come in then from the north, battles at High Heart and at Argilac's Rock had been fought and Robert Baratheon was injured or he was dead, and Storm's End was under siege from both land and sea. That idiot Redwyne ruining his chances of a pardon once the war was done.

Garth ran a hand over his beard, and looked at the letter that had arrived from Oldtown some days past, it was written in Janna's slanting hand. She wrote of how the docks of Oldtown buzzed with news about the east and the supposed emergence of a dragon emperor in Essos and the retreating threat of the Dothraki. Of how there were pirates raiding in the Stepstones and how Balon Greyjoy still refused to heed the King's calls to arms. And she wrote of how she had given birth to twins, a boy and a girl, the boy had her curly brown hair and his sharp blue eyes had been named Mern, the girl had his dark black hair and her rose brown eyes and had been named Naerys. It was a strange feeling knowing he was a father and that he would most likely not see his children for another few months at least or maybe not ever if all should go wrong.

He shook his head to remove it of such thoughts; it would do him no good to dwell on such things. Instead he looked at the map on the table before him and examined it. They were currently camped on the south eastern bank of the Mander; Highgarden could be seen from their tents, atop a hill on the crest of where the Gardener kings had become followers of the Seven. Mace Tyrell was marching south with great haste according to their scouts, with an unknown number of men. It would make no matter the man was not known as Lord Puff Fish for nothing, he would have left some sort of important weapon behind with Rhaegar, and that would be used against him.

"How long do you think it will be before they are on us?" Garth startled at the sound of his brother Gunthor's voice. Gunthor was built a lot like their father, with strong shoulders and a bull like strength. His brother was just fourteen but had proven himself worthy of a knighthood from Randyll Tarly for his efforts against the remaining Florents.

Garth was silent for a moment and then said. "I know not brother. They could be upon us in four days or four hours. Mace Tyrell left no men spare in Highgarden, his impatience to come back and save his seat will be his downfall."

"Are you certain that Mace has not left anyone there for us to deal with? I mean he might not have the sense to do so, but his mother most certainly would have." Gunthor asked.

Garth sighed. "I know not how reliable she is now that she is married to the fool, but Alerie wrote to Baelor when Mace left and told him that the man had left no reinforcements in Highgarden, and any that might have been called upon from the rest of the Reach are either with him or with us."

Garth can tell his brother is about to respond when a squire enters the tent. "My lords sorry to disturb you, but Lord Tarly has requested your presence in the command tent." They both nod and leave Garth's tent and head to the command tent that proudly displays the red three headed dragon of House Targaryen on a field of black, the sigil of the true king, Aemon.

Lord Randyll, is a strong man with a good military mind even if he is a bit more ruthless than Garth finds necessary. Still he is sat looking at them with a most frustrated look on his face. Once both Garth and his brother have sat down Lord Tarly speaks. "My scouts have returned my lords. Lord Tyrell is two hours ride away from us."

Silence and then. "How did he manage to cross through and why has he not bulked up Highgarden?" Gunthor asks.

"His men in Highgarden provided him with barges with which to ferry some of the men across. He has some 20,000 men with him 5,000 of which Rhaegar Targaryen gave him from the Stormlords force that was defeated at Blueburn." Tarly replies.

"Did your scout say how many men these barges could transport?" Garth asks.

"Some 9 or 10,000 men my lord. They are bloody big barges." Tarly states.

Garth nods and then says. "Very well we still outnumber him by some four thousand or more men. We must ride towards where his men are offloading and attack them before they can gather together."

And so they do, it takes sometime but eventually the army of House Hightower and House Tarly, numbering some 15,000 men is fully assembled and ready to march. Lord Tarly leads the van, Garth leads the left, Lord Beesbury the right, and the reserve commanded by their uncle Ser Guyard Flowers. They march quickly barely stopping to look at the way the current flows, all of them determined to get to the Tyrell host before it gets to them and pushes them back into the water.

They find the Tyrell men disembarking near the bend of the Mander where it would shape to flow into the Sunset Sea. Their men look exhausted and harried as if their nightlong marches are finally beginning to take their toll. Garth and his men wait in the bushes waiting for the signal, and then when Mace Tyrell disembarks huffing and puffing, Garth draws his sword from its sheath and roars a challenge that is answered by war horn after war horn and the battle of the Mander begins.

They meet in a crash of steel on steel, Garth swinging his sword like a man possessed. Hacking and cutting, this is not like fighting someone in the training yard nor is it truly like the melee, this is the proper thing and it feels like it. Everything seems to pass by in a blur, one minute he is hacking and slashing at a giant of a man, the next minute the man is dead his body being pulled down by the current of the Mander.

He does not truly have time to ponder how things are moving so fast, he simply accepts it and moves onto the next fight and the next foe. Swinging, hacking, slashing, cutting and ducking. He kills a man bearing the coat of arms of the red apple Fossoways. Brings down a man bearing the arms of House Meadows. His sword is covered in blood, his armour as well, his body aches with exhaustion, his mind is weary and his limbs are numb and yet on he goes through the current of the Mander, and the water lapping at his horse's legs when he comes across his goodbrother.

Mace Tyrell seems weighed down by his armour and the number of wounds he has. He is bleeding quite profusely, and yet he still staggers through the waters, his sword raised high cutting down men left and right. Garth will give him that, but he is a traitor to the rightful king and he must die. So he spurs his horse on to make the fight fair dismounts from his own horse, unsheathes his sword and begins the dance of death with his goodbrother. The dance can have only one winner, and as such today it is Garth Hightower who emerges victorious, he is less tired than his goodbrother and put more hours into sword practice. Where Tyrell hacks, Hightower slashes, and on it goes until Garth slashes the throat of his goodbrother and Mace Tyrell's blood turns the water of the Mander red.

Victory and Highgarden belong to the Hightowers now.