“That’s going too far, Sister!” The angry shout cut straight through Malora’s triumphant laughter.
She paused, then recognized the newcomer and immediately broke into another fit of giggles.
“Oh, Garth, my dear little brother.
I was only teasing your young squire.” William let out a long breath of relief.
Thank the gods.
At least this crisis was over.
Garth Hightower approached from the far end of the corridor, a helmet tucked beneath one arm.
He was a man in his thirties, broad-shouldered and powerfully built.
His short-cropped golden hair and naturally stern features gave him an imposing presence even on ordinary days.
Now, with anger visible in his eyes, he seemed even more intimidating.
Garth had heard rumors about his second sister’s strange obsession with William.
Since William had never brought it up himself, Garth had refrained from interfering.
But seeing it firsthand was another matter entirely.
Walter Whent was his friend.
Out of trust, the Lord of Harrenhal had entrusted his only surviving son and heir to Garth’s care as a squire.
If William somehow ended up forced into marriage with his nearly forty-year-old sister, Garth honestly had no idea how he would explain that to Walter.
Stepping between them, Garth glared at Malora.
His voice lowered slightly, though the irritation remained obvious.
“He’s still just a boy.
Stop making jokes like that.” “A boy?” Malora’s grin widened.
“My sweet little brother, look!” She pointed dramatically at William.
“The ghosts following him disagree with you.
One, two…
oh, so many!
Too many to count!
And there’s even a giant among them…” Her expression suddenly changed.
“Ah!
Ahhh!
Don’t come closer!
AAAAAH!” Only moments earlier she had been cheerfully gesturing at her brother.
Now she stumbled backward in panic before scrambling away down the corridor.
My badge…
William watched her disappear around a corner.
His outstretched hand slowly fell back to his side.
“She wasn’t like this when she was young.” Garth looked embarrassed as he explained.
“When she was a teenager, she caught a terrible fever.
After she recovered…
something wasn’t right anymore.
She says strange things all the time.
Try not to let it bother you.” Strange things?
That didn’t sound entirely made up.
As William replayed her words in his mind, he found himself instinctively glancing around.
A chill crawled across his skin.
Seeing his reaction, Garth asked seriously, “You actually think she saw ghosts?
And somehow knew you killed Giant Ronan?” William nodded.
Then he suddenly realized something.
Wait.
How did Garth know about that?
Garth burst out laughing.
“Your raven hadn’t even reached Oldtown before news from Tumbleton arrived.
Father received reports.
She probably read one of his letters.” That explained it.
Garth patted William on the shoulder.
His expression softened into one of genuine admiration.
“Giant Ronan terrorized the western coast for years.
No one could stop him.
His death is good news for everyone.
You did well, William.” William scratched the back of his head and smiled sheepishly.
“Come on.” Garth turned toward the training grounds.
“You’ve accomplished a lot lately, but that’s no excuse to neglect your training.” The training yard was enormous.
Hundreds of men could train there simultaneously.
The towering Hightower shielded much of the afternoon sun, while cool breezes drifted in from the Honeywine River, bringing welcome relief to the sweating soldiers.
At the center of the yard, William was crossing swords with Garth’s other squire, Illyn Florent.
Both young men wore standard Hightower training armor, sword in one hand and shield in the other.
They were simulating combat between knights who had been unhorsed.
The match was excellent.
Their fundamentals were nearly identical.
Strength.
Speed.
Technique.
All closely matched.
Neither could gain a decisive advantage.
Nothing excites soldiers more than a close fight.
Dozens of Hightower men crowded around the practice ring, shouting encouragement and trading good-natured insults.
Only Garth remained silent, arms crossed and brow furrowed as he watched carefully.
When William first arrived in Oldtown years ago, Garth had judged his martial talent as merely average.
His expectations had been modest.
Complete his training.
Earn his knighthood.
Eventually inherit Harrenhal.
That would have been enough.
Then things changed.
Over the past year, William had begun winning tournament after tournament throughout the Reach.
The reports sounded unbelievable.
Many of the defeated knights were acquaintances of Garth’s.
He questioned them personally.
He exchanged letters.
Yet the William they described seemed completely different from the one he knew.
At first, Garth assumed they were exaggerating to make their own defeats seem less embarrassing.
Then news of the Battle of Tumbleton arrived.
After that, disbelief became much harder to maintain.
A tournament tested skill.
A battlefield tested survival.
Luck could influence one.
Death decided the other.
According to the reports from Highgarden, William and Garlan, accompanied by only two other knights, had launched attacks against over two hundred Ironborn raiders while they were scattered throughout the town.
They struck repeatedly, inflicted massive casualties, and held out until reinforcements arrived.
Their side lost two knights.
Garlan and William survived.
Garth had fought Ironborn before.
They were reckless, but not idiots.
There was no way they had simply stood around waiting to be slaughtered one by one.
They would have regrouped, counterattacked, and fought desperately.
In a battle like that, William could not possibly have been a mere spectator.
Not when the reports specifically named him as the slayer of Giant Ronan.
Which made the current scene all the more puzzling.
A man capable of killing Giant Ronan shouldn’t look evenly matched against Illyn.
Then the battle suddenly shifted.
Illyn exposed the slightest opening.
A tiny mistake.
Most people wouldn’t even notice it.
William did.
Instantly.
He surged forward.
Attack after attack crashed down.
Illyn retreated desperately, blocking, parrying, struggling to recover.
He couldn’t.
A final strike sent him sprawling onto the ground.
When he regained his bearings, William’s sword had already hooked up his visor.
The grinning victor stared down at him.
Illyn sighed, then raised a hand.
“I yield.” At last, Garth’s frown disappeared.
That offensive sequence had been flawless.
William had spotted an opportunity immediately, committed without hesitation, applied relentless pressure, and finished the fight decisively.
It demonstrated experience, confidence, and battlefield instincts.
Maybe he was simply trying not to embarrass Illyn before.
Garth stroked his chin thoughtfully.
Meanwhile, William threw both arms into the air in celebration like a gladiator who had survived a battle to the death.
The surrounding soldiers erupted into cheers and laughter.
His excitement wasn’t fake.
Not even a little.
Illyn was only a year older than him.
Their natural talent was similar.
Their work ethic was similar.
That made Illyn the perfect measuring stick.
Because of that, William never used Enhancement Magic during sparring matches against him.
He didn’t want magical advantages creating bad habits or undermining his fundamentals.
The opening Illyn had exposed wasn’t even particularly large.
His follow-up defense had been solid.
In the past, William might not have noticed the opportunity at all.
Even if he had noticed it, he might have hesitated.
Even if he attacked, he might not have pressed hard enough.
Today was different.
He had given Illyn no chance whatsoever.
The fight ended immediately.
Maybe it’s because of that battle.
Maybe surviving life and death really changed something.
A waterbird suddenly emerged from behind the Hightower.
Its cheerful cry echoed overhead.
William looked up.
The sky stretched endlessly above him.
Bright.
Clear.
Boundless.
His heart felt lighter than it had in days.
“Hey, William!
Help me up!” Illyn’s annoyed voice shattered the moment.
William laughed.
Planting his sword in the ground, he offered a hand and pulled his friend to his feet.
“So?
Still seeing stars?” “Hmph.
I was careless.
If I’d paid just a little more attention, just a little, you wouldn’t have had that chance.” “Don’t look so devastated.” William slung an arm around his shoulder.
“I’m William the Invincible.
Losing to me isn’t embarrassing.” Illyn’s eyes widened.
“You know…
that’s actually true!
You’ve won so many tournaments.
Maybe I should enter the next one too.
If I just pay a little more attention…” “Let’s talk about that later.” William immediately cut him off.
He couldn’t bear watching Illyn volunteer to become someone else’s ransom payment.
Laughing, he dragged his friend toward the changing room.
Along the way he exchanged jokes and greetings with familiar soldiers.
Later, after changing back into formal clothes, William approached Garth.
“Ser Garth, I’d like permission to visit the Citadel today.
I’m probably not coming back tonight.” Garth nodded.
He had never objected to knights pursuing knowledge.
Still, he asked casually, “Going to see Archmaester Marwyn?” “Yes.
I need to discuss something with him.” The second half of 296 AC had already arrived.
Time was running out.
For Lord Walter Whent and for Lady Minisa Whent.