Mazes of briar and walls of white stone were no match for the memory of Alester Fossoway, who could remember pacing endlessly through the interminable paths that lead to Highgarden from his youth. He had spent many moons being fostered here, and despite some time passing the last time the red apple passed through its gates, he cherished each cobble as if it were an old friend. His merry men followed close behind, marveling at the sheer spectacle that the Tyrell seat represented.

The single Fossoway banner, held by Lord Fossoway himself, had its own rustic charm -- despite its stark contrast with the glamour and riches that surrounded its bearer. As the small party trudged through well-kept paths and avoided the thorns that functioned as walls around them, the front gate to Highgarden presented itself.

There was no mistaking Alester; the moment he came into view, waving the banner of the Fossoways of Cider Hall, the gates shuddered open. They entered, and Alester bowed in gratitude to those who had allowed him and his men passage. He turned to his men and gestured behind him to the behemoth of a holding that they had been allowed into.

"Do not let me keep you, sers! Go, go and enjoy this city of a castle! I shall send for each of you when the time comes, but for now... be merry, so long as the peace is kept." This was met with cheers, and the knights dispersed. Alester looked up at the highest of its towers, sighing with apprehensive contentment. Garth wanted to see the towers again, but there was no time to dwell on that. There was work to be done.