With the servants’ help, William’s armor was finally removed and his wounds cleaned.
To Ser Vernon’s astonishment, although William appeared covered in injuries, none of them were truly serious.
Most were shallow cuts, bruises, and blunt-force trauma.
A few needed stitching and bandaging, but nothing remotely life-threatening.
The treatment was completed surprisingly quickly.
After finishing, Ser Vernon exchanged a few polite words with William, though there was unmistakable reverence in the old knight’s eyes now.
He reminded William to rest properly before taking his leave.
Once the tent was quiet again, William closed his eyes.
Part of his attention went toward recovering his strength.
The rest focused on Garlan.
How exactly should I heal him?
Then another thought drifted into his mind.
Maybe if Margaery uses magic a few more times, she’ll develop a taste for it.
Once that happens, she’ll never want to stop…
A foolish grin almost appeared on his face.
Unfortunately, he was exhausted beyond measure.
Before long, he drifted off to sleep.
========== A rich aroma of food eventually pulled him back to consciousness.
William blinked awake and, pulling aside one of the bandages, inspected his wounds.
They had already mostly healed.
To avoid causing unnecessary panic, he carefully wrapped the bandages back into place before dressing himself and stepping outside.
The sun was sinking toward the horizon.
The sky stretched overhead, clear and blue like a tranquil lake.
Rows upon rows of tents covered the landscape, casting long shadows across the earth.
The scent of woodsmoke drifted through the air.
Campfires had been lit throughout the encampment, and supper was already being prepared.
Apparently, they would be spending the night here.
Looking toward Tumbleton, William spotted a large force of cavalry approaching in a cloud of dust.
Green banners adorned with golden roses fluttered proudly above them.
The reinforcements from Highgarden have finally arrived.
When William set out to visit Garlan, several servants crossed his path.
Each one immediately stopped to bow respectfully before continuing their work.
William returned their greetings with an easy smile.
He could not deny feeling rather pleased.
Before today, he had felt almost invisible among the Tyrell entourage.
Now everyone recognized him.
Everyone acknowledged him.
It felt surprisingly good.
Garlan remained unconscious.
Fortunately, he looked peaceful, like a handsome nobleman enjoying a pleasant nap rather than a man hovering between life and death.
His breathing was steady and strong.
The sight eased William’s worries considerably.
The servant attending Garlan watched William leave with obvious admiration.
Near Margaery’s wheelhouse, her companions greeted him with knowing smiles.
Before Margaery even said a word, the three Tyrell girls obediently stepped outside and moved off to one side.
Although they belonged to cadet branches of House Tyrell, they were still noble ladies.
Their cooperation left William feeling oddly flattered.
Not so flattered that he dared climb into Margaery’s carriage, however.
Instead, he remained by the doorway and waited until the girls were a reasonable distance away.
Then he spoke.
“Margaery, I just visited Garlan.
Although he’s survived the immediate danger, the risk of infection remains.
We should treat him as soon as possible.” Margaery stretched lazily in her seat.
“You’re already recovered?” “Not completely.” William shrugged.
“But I can manage a few spells.” The moment he mentioned magic, her expression tightened.
She did not answer immediately.
Seeing her hesitation, William smiled.
“Whether magic is involved or not, there’s no harm in checking on your brother.” Margaery hesitated.
Then finally nodded.
“Very well.” As long as she comes, everything else can be managed.
William could not help feeling smug.
The group had barely begun walking toward Garlan’s tent when two knights approached.
One was Ser Osmund Kettleblack’s counterpart in command, Ser Osmund Crane.
The other was a fully armored knight William did not recognize.
After the usual exchange of noble courtesies, Osmund made the introduction.
“Ser William, this is Ser Igon Vyrwel, Captain of Lord Tyrell’s household guard.
Igon, this is Ser William Whent, heir to Harrenhal.” Captain of the household guard?
A very important man.
William immediately bowed.
“Ser Igon, it’s an honor.
I’ve heard much about you.
Not long ago I had the pleasure of meeting your brother, Lord Otto Vyrwel.” Igon was a tall, composed man, yet he wore a broad smile.
“Ser William, the admiration is entirely mine.
I visited Tumbleton on my way here.
‘One man against a hundred’ hardly begins to describe your courage.” William knew excessive humility often came across as dishonesty in Westeros.
Glancing at Margaery, he answered with a smile.
“At first, I acted out of simple outrage.
Perhaps Lady Margaery’s encouragement gave me strength.” Even if a herd of wild horses was currently trampling through Margaery’s thoughts, she maintained a perfect smile.
“May I ask the purpose of your visit, sers?
We were about to check on Garlan.” Osmund answered immediately.
“Oh?
Ser Igon has already visited Ser Garlan.
His condition appears stable.
We’ve actually come to invite both you and Lady Margaery to attend the war council.
We’ll be discussing the current situation and our next course of action.” William noticed something surprising.
Osmund had mentioned his name before Margaery’s.
Both Osmund and Igon were the highest-ranking commanders present, yet they had personally come to invite him.
The realization felt almost surreal.
Still, it would be difficult to refuse.
Garlan’s condition won’t change in the next hour anyway.
He looked toward Margaery.
She considered briefly before shaking her head.
“I know nothing about military matters.
I would only be a distraction.” Then she turned to William.
“Please don’t let me keep you, Ser William.
I’ll visit Garlan myself.” With that, she departed alongside her companions.
========== Once the ladies were gone, the atmosphere became far more relaxed.
William knew both men held considerable influence within Highgarden.
Likewise, they clearly appreciated having a warrior of William’s caliber among them.
Everyone made a conscious effort to build goodwill, and conversation flowed easily.
Before long, they reached the command tent.
Thanks to the arrival of reinforcements, the gathering was considerably larger than the one Osmund had hosted that morning.
The moment William entered, those who recognized him immediately began whispering to the knights who did not.
Igon stepped to the center of the tent.
Then cleared his throat.
“When I departed Highgarden, I believed the knights of the Reach would bear this disgrace for the rest of their lives.” His voice was not particularly loud.
Yet the entire tent fell silent.
“The attack on Tumbleton came without warning.
Highgarden only learned of it after Ser Osmund’s messenger arrived.
At the time, every one of us assumed the Ironborn would sack the town and escape before we could respond.” Several knights who had ridden with Igon nodded.
By all reasonable calculations, the raiders should have escaped successfully.
The attack had caught everyone off guard.
Then Igon’s voice rose.
“But!” Every eye turned toward him.
“There was one knight.
A single knight.
Faced with more than two hundred Ironborn raiders whose names inspired fear throughout the Seven Kingdoms…” “He charged them alone.” Igon pointed toward a large knight standing nearby.
“Ser Marcus.
Tell us how many Ironborn bodies you found outside Tumbleton.” “Eighty-seven.” The answer came immediately.
“The corpses stretched from the town itself all the way to the river.
There were bodies everywhere.” Several uninformed knights sucked in sharp breaths.
Igon nodded.
Then looked toward another man.
“Ser Ravend.
How many did you find inside the town?” The knight looked visibly excited.
“Sixty-five confirmed dead.
At least forty showed wounds clearly inflicted by a greatsword.
Including the infamous giant, Ronan.” Several knights familiar with Ronan exchanged shocked looks.
Igon smiled.
Then turned toward the gathering.
“Later, we captured fifty-nine surviving Ironborn.
They claimed a demon had done this.” A brief pause followed.
Then Igon’s voice thundered through the tent.
“But the Ironborn’s demon…” “…is our hero.” He extended a hand toward William.
“This man is Ser William Whent.” “Our hero.” The tent erupted.
Knights surged forward.
Introductions flew from every direction.
Names.
Titles.
Handshakes.
Salutes.
William finally understood why they had insisted he attend.
This was not a war council.
It was an award ceremony.
Not that he minded.
With a smile, he greeted everyone in turn.
The scene felt strangely similar to a gathering of admirers meeting their favorite champion.
Osmund and Igon watched with obvious amusement.
Only after everyone had properly introduced themselves did the actual discussion begin.
To be honest, William found most of it rather uninteresting.
Lord Mace Tyrell’s fury.
The orders sent from Highgarden.
The command that not a single Ironborn ship or raider be allowed to escape.
Igon’s plan to lead cavalry toward Bitterbridge and the river forts to search for another Ironborn force.
William listened politely.
Or at least pretended to.
Then one detail caught his attention.
Osmund announced that whether the household guard departed tomorrow would depend on Garlan’s condition.
A maester named Lomas was currently on the way and expected to arrive within one or two hours.
The moment William heard that, his expression subtly changed.
I need to move quickly.
If he wanted to heal Garlan before a maester from Highgarden arrived…
Time was running out.