After the column resumed its journey, Ser Osmund dispatched even more scouts.
Combined with the patrols already riding under Ser Vyrwel, messengers constantly rode back and forth along the road.
Watching them gallop in and out of sight gave the entire procession the feeling of a marching army rather than a noble escort.
William occasionally poked his head toward the wheelhouse window.
Unfortunately, Margaery remained expressionless.
She neither spoke nor acknowledged him.
Her three Tyrell companions clearly had no idea what had transpired between the two of them and wisely chose to keep their mouths shut.
Finding the silence unbearable, William turned back toward Garlan.
“What’s the story behind that smoke signal?” He glanced toward the distant horizon.
“Ironborn?
Everyone seems awfully nervous.” Garlan looked at him strangely.
“The Riverlands aren’t afraid of Ironborn?” Only then did William realize how deeply the Ironborn had scarred the history of the Seven Kingdoms.
Perhaps only someone like him, an outsider carrying memories from another world, could remain so unconcerned.
He laughed awkwardly.
“Well, my family’s castle was built by Ironborn.” Then he changed the subject.
“Still, we’ve got over a hundred mounted men.
And fighters like you and me.” He gestured confidently.
“Avoiding the Shield Islands’ patrols isn’t easy.
If they slipped this far inland, they wouldn’t have brought many ships.
Two hundred men at most.
That’s one cavalry charge.” Garlan smiled.
“Ser Osmund’s duty is to protect the column, not hunt raiders.” “Fair enough.” William nodded.
Then another thought struck him.
“But that warning beacon wasn’t very far from Bitterbridge.” He frowned.
“The Ironborn came this deep into the Reach?
Even if they successfully plunder something, by the time they reach the river mouth, news will already have reached the Shield Islands.
Are they not worried about getting trapped?” Garlan shrugged.
“Any Ironborn foolish enough to raid the Mander after Lord Greyjoy’s defeat are already madmen.” He lowered his voice.
“And we departed so quickly this morning because signs of Ironborn were discovered near Bitterbridge itself.” “Oh.” William suddenly remembered something.
“I heard there’s a town ahead.
We’re stopping there around noon, right?” When Garlan nodded, William continued.
“Could the Ironborn attack it?” Garlan laughed.
“That would be Tumbleton.
It’s called that because it’s only ten leagues from Highgarden.
Cavalry can reach it in a couple of hours.
No Ironborn would be foolish enough to attack there.” William thought carefully.
“Even if Highgarden receives the warning immediately and sends riders immediately, it’ll still take most of a day before a substantial force arrives.
If the raiders aren’t greedy, they’d have plenty of time to leave.” He paused.
“And cavalry riding flat out for two hours won’t arrive ready to fight.
They’d practically be announcing a retreat.” Then he grinned.
“Most importantly, even you never considered the possibility.
That alone makes it worth trying.” For the first time, Garlan frowned thoughtfully.
He actually began considering it.
William burst out laughing.
“Too late now.
Thinking about it won’t change anything.” Then he waved a hand.
“Tell me about Ser Osmund instead.
The way he’s handling these scouts…” He glanced toward the captain.
“He seems experienced.” ========== Near midday, another rider approached from the north.
At first, nobody paid him much attention.
Scouts had been coming and going all morning.
Then suddenly, Ser Osmund issued a new command.
The entire procession turned off the road.
William and Garlan exchanged a glance.
Neither liked what that implied.
Without speaking, they urged their horses forward and rode to the front of the column.
There they found Osmund issuing rapid instructions to his officers.
After listening for several moments, the situation became clear.
A low hill stood beside the road.
One side was steep and difficult to climb.
The other sloped gently upward.
Osmund intended to build a defensive position around it using the wagons and wheelhouse.
It was an excellent choice.
By anchoring the position against the steep side, they would only need to defend a single approach.
Among all the terrain visible nearby, it was the strongest defensive ground available.
Only after finishing his orders did Osmund turn toward them.
“Ser Garlan.
Ser William.” His expression was grim.
“We’ve received confirmation.
The Ironborn have attacked Tumbleton.” The words landed heavily.
“To avoid being caught while moving, we’ll establish defenses here and await further reports.” The decision was perfectly reasonable.
Neither William nor Garlan could criticize it.
Still, Garlan frowned.
“Something doesn’t make sense.
This is close to Tumbleton.
Our scouts should have spotted the raiders long ago.
Why are we only hearing about this now?” Osmund’s jaw tightened.
“The situation is worse than that.” He looked away briefly.
“Ser Ebrose’s patrol failed to report back.
The scouts sent after them also disappeared.” Silence followed.
Then Osmund spoke quietly.
“I fear we’ve lost him.” Garlan lowered his head.
He had known Ebrose for years.
The news struck hard.
William felt a pang as well.
Only that morning they had sung together around the campfire.
Ebrose had seemed like a good man.
After a moment, William spoke.
“Let Ser Osmund continue his work.” He looked at Garlan.
“We should check on Margaery and the others.
They may be worried.” The defensive position took shape quickly.
The wheelhouse occupied the center, while the wagons formed a broad semicircle facing the gentle slope.
It was a strong arrangement.
Because of the layout, Osmund’s command post ended up directly in front of Margaery’s wheelhouse.
A large table served as headquarters, and knights gathered around it discussing plans.
Both William and Garlan were invited to join.
Neither spoke.
Arguing strategy from behind a table is easy.
For now, I’d rather listen and learn.
Osmund’s experience quickly became apparent.
His orders were precise.
His preparations were thorough.
Everything was organized with remarkable efficiency.
Then William noticed movement near the wheelhouse.
Margaery had emerged.
Her three companions accompanied her.
The knights immediately rose.
Greetings were exchanged.
Bows.
Curtsies.
Formal courtesies.
The usual rituals consumed several minutes.
Only then did Margaery address Osmund directly.
“Ser Osmund.” As always, her posture remained elegant.
Her words did not.
“I’ve heard Tumbleton is under attack.
We must do something.” Osmund pointed north.
Toward Highgarden.
“We’ve established a strong defensive position.
This place is secure.
Messengers have already been sent.
Highgarden will respond.
The Ironborn will be punished.” Margaery’s eyes flashed.
“The people of Tumbleton may not survive long enough to see that punishment.” The knights fell silent.
She continued.
“I am no soldier.
I don’t understand military matters.
But those people are Highgarden’s subjects.
We are their lords.” Her voice softened.
“Are we truly going to sit here and watch?” No one met her eyes.
Not one.
After a long pause, Osmund finally answered.
“I’m sorry, my lady.” His voice was strained.
“But your safety must come first.” Margaery stared at him.
Then at the others.
Even Garlan looked uncomfortable.
Only William seemed strangely energized.
When her gaze passed over him, he actually winked.
The reaction nearly made her lose her composure.
After another moment of silence, she curtsied.
“I see.” “No doubt you gentlemen have important military matters to discuss.
Please excuse me.” She turned and walked away.
Only after she vanished from sight did the atmosphere begin to recover.
The discussion resumed.
Orders continued.
Everything returned to normal.
Except William.