Hearing such a mystical answer, William immediately relaxed.
He had been just about to explain the principle of conservation of energy to Margaery.
In his view, magic was simply another form of energy.
It did not truly disappear.
The act of casting a spell merely transformed it into another state, no different in principle from sunlight, wind, or any other natural force.
All of it was simply another gift from the world itself.
Before he could begin his lecture, hurried footsteps suddenly sounded outside the tent.
The footsteps were coming straight toward them.
William reluctantly abandoned his attempt at magical education and moved beside Margaery.
Together, they turned toward the entrance.
A moment later, the tent flap was pulled aside.
An elderly man with silver hair and beard entered first.
The heavy chain around his neck and the distinctive robes immediately marked him as a maester.
Behind him came Ser Igon Vyrwel and Ser Osmund Crane.
“Maester Lomas!” Margaery’s face lit up with delight as she stepped forward.
William silently thanked the Seven.
The maester had arrived far sooner than expected.
“My dear Margaery, you must have been terribly worried.” Maester Lomas smiled kindly.
“But everything is all right now.” Margaery gestured toward William.
“Maester, this is Ser William Whent of Harrenhal.” William immediately bowed.
“It’s an honor, Maester.” Lomas barely spared him a glance.
“Forgive me, Ser William.
I should examine Garlan first.” Without further delay, he moved to the bedside.
An assistant carrying a medical case hurried past Igon and Osmund and joined him.
Soon the two were busy examining the injured knight.
Margaery remained nearby, watching anxiously.
William, understanding his place, retreated to a corner of the tent alongside Igon and Osmund.
The three exchanged a few quiet pleasantries before falling silent.
The examination did not take long.
Eventually, Maester Lomas tucked Garlan’s blanket securely around him and turned toward Margaery.
His expression was remarkably relaxed.
“Garlan’s condition is far better than I anticipated.
The wounds themselves are not particularly severe.
I suspect excessive blood loss is the primary reason he remains unconscious.” The tension that had gripped Margaery since the battle finally melted away.
A radiant smile appeared on her face.
“The Seven be praised.” Perhaps she was also relieved that the maester had shown absolutely no suspicion regarding magic.
In the corner, all three men looked equally pleased.
The difference was that William was acting.
Osmund, on the other hand, genuinely looked as though a mountain had been lifted from his shoulders.
After all, Garlan had been under his protection.
Had anything happened to the heir of House Tyrell, responsibility would inevitably have fallen upon him.
“Ser Vernon was only serving as a healer temporarily,” Margaery explained smoothly.
“He was under tremendous pressure.
It’s understandable that he described Garlan’s injuries somewhat more severely than they truly were.
And unfortunately that sent you rushing all this way.” Well done.
William silently applauded her.
Another perfect cover story.
Lomas stroked his silver beard, clearly pleased.
“As long as Garlan is safe, nothing else matters, child.” Then he turned toward Osmund.
“Ser Osmund, I expect Garlan will awaken tomorrow morning.
I recommend we depart then.” Osmund nodded immediately.
“Very good, Maester.
In that case, please excuse me.
There are arrangements that need attention.” Igon and William also prepared to leave.
The old maester inclined his head.
“You are both dismissed.” Then his eyes settled on William.
“Ser William…
if you would remain behind for a moment.” William blinked.
Then smiled.
“Of course.” After Igon and Osmund departed, Maester Lomas addressed Margaery.
“Stay with Garlan for now, child.
I’d like a few words with Ser William.” Margaery exchanged a glance with William.
William responded with a confident smile before following the maester outside.
Lomas did not go far.
Only a few paces from the tent, he stopped beneath the night sky.
Countless stars glittered overhead.
He waited until William stood beside him before turning around.
“Ser William.” “Lord Mace wishes that you not visit Highgarden.” Huh?
William froze for a moment.
Then understanding dawned.
As expected of Lord Mace…
Clearly, word of his interactions with Margaery had already reached the Lord of Highgarden.
William’s pursuit of her had begun because of magic.
To everyone else, however, it looked exactly like courtship.
And Lord Mace Tyrell, whose greatest ambition was to see his descendants seated upon the Iron Throne, naturally had little patience for a young knight who seemed likely to complicate those plans.
Seeing William struggle not to laugh, Maester Lomas chuckled first.
“Lord Mace can be somewhat impulsive at times.
He’ll calm down eventually.” That was enough.
William finally laughed.
“In that case, I’ll spare Highgarden the burden of an unwelcome guest.
Once Garlan awakens tomorrow and I bid him farewell, I’ll be on my way.” Lomas regarded him with clear approval.
Rather than ending the conversation immediately, the old maester spent some time discussing Oldtown and the Citadel with him.
Eventually, William excused himself and departed.
Just as predicted, Garlan awoke the following morning.
When William entered the tent, a servant was gathering breakfast dishes.
Judging by the empty plates, Garlan’s appetite had returned in full force.
“Long time no see, Garlan.” William grinned.
Garlan laughed softly.
“It truly has been.
Long enough to feel like an entire lifetime.” The two embraced, each giving the other a hearty slap on the back.
When they stepped apart, both were smiling.
No words were necessary.
Ignoring a servant who hurried forward to help him, Garlan rose from the bed.
“Ser Igon’s force is about to depart.
Shall we see them off?” “Sounds good.” William nodded.
“I’d like to see Ser Igon as well.” He had complete faith in the effectiveness of the healing spell.
Garlan’s condition did not worry him in the slightest.
Together they stepped outside.
Fresh morning air washed over them, cool and invigorating.
Dawn had only just broken.
Mist lingered over the camp while activity already buzzed everywhere.
Servants hurried between tents.
Soldiers prepared equipment.
The entire encampment was waking.
The two walked slowly.
Garlan stretched his arms and expanded his chest before exhaling deeply.
“For a moment…” His voice was calm.
“I truly believed I could let go of everything.” “Even Lady Leonette Fossoway?” William asked with a mischievous grin.
Laughing, Garlan punched his arm.
As they reached the roadside, the cavalry column from Highgarden was already forming up.
When Igon spotted them, he immediately rode over to speak with Garlan.
As the mounted knights passed, many stopped briefly to offer greetings.
Others exchanged farewells with William.
Igon and his riders would continue south, determined to hunt down the remaining Ironborn reported near Sharp Point and the surrounding river forts.
The cavalry gradually disappeared into the distance.
Watching them go, Garlan smiled.
“William.
When did you become more popular among Highgarden’s knights than I am?
Even I can’t compete.” William laughed.
“Obviously because of yesterday’s battle.” Yet as he remembered that blood-soaked day, a lingering chill crept through him.
Saving Tumbleton was the greatest alteration he had made to history since arriving in Westeros.
The price had nearly been his own life.
And very nearly Garlan’s as well.
The thought erased the smile from his face.
He turned toward his friend and met his eyes.
“I owe you my life, Garlan.”