Day after day, William traveled by daylight and rested at night.
Before setting out, he had borrowed Gars’s Dornish sand steed, a horse well suited for long-distance travel.
With two mounts at his disposal, he could cover far more ground each day.
It took him two days to reach Highgarden.
One day later, he arrived near New Barrel, the homeland of Ser Garlan’s betrothed, Lady Leonette.
From there, the Roseroad curved east toward King’s Landing, but William chose a shorter route, leaving the main road and heading directly north.
On the sixth day after departing Oldtown, he crossed the area where the Goldroad met the Blackwater Rush.
Much of that stretch consisted of little more than narrow trails, making encounters with bandits inevitable.
Had this happened before the Battle of Tumbleton, they might have survived.
Now, they could only blame their misfortune.
By the evening of the seventh day, William reached the town on the southern shore of the Gods Eye.
Rather than paying a visit to Lord Vance, he spent the night in a small settlement outside the town.
At noon the following day, while riding north along the western shore of the vast lake, he finally saw it.
The enormous fortress standing beside the blue waters.
Harrenhal.
William let out a long breath and smiled.
Though he did not particularly like the castle itself, his family was there.
And he had missed them.
Crossing a low hill, he discovered a small stream winding through the countryside.
Beside it stood a modest grove of trees.
This region lay near the High Heart, where forests were relatively scarce, making such a patch of greenery a welcome sight.
Poets might praise brilliant sunshine.
Travelers, however, rarely shared that enthusiasm.
After days beneath the blazing summer sun, anyone passing by would be tempted to stop and rest.
The stream murmured softly over smooth stones.
Green leaves cast cool shadows across the grass.
William tied up his horses beneath a large tree and sat down to eat some dried provisions.
One side offered endless rolling plains.
The other opened onto the sparkling waters of the Gods Eye.
No matter where he looked, the scenery was breathtaking.
For a while, he simply stared.
Gradually, his expression became solemn.
Such a beautiful land should never be ravaged by war.
This peace…
this tranquility…
I will protect it.
Suddenly, both horses became restless.
At the same time, William sensed danger.
Yet the man who had survived countless bloody battles was no longer easily shaken.
He calmly rose to his feet.
First, he soothed his warhorse.
Then he placed his unfinished meal beside the Dornish sand steed and drew his greatsword from beside the saddle.
The massive blade normally required two hands to wield.
In William’s grip, it seemed as light as a feather.
Holding it casually in one hand, he walked toward the stream and gazed into the distance.
The attacker appeared atop a nearby hill.
William blinked in surprise.
What a massive bear!
Its shoulders stood higher than his warhorse.
He had never seen a bear in Westeros, but he had seen both brown bears and polar bears in his previous life.
The beast before him dwarfed them all by nearly half again their size.
Even stranger, William felt an inexplicable certainty.
This bear was not wandering by chance.
It had come for him.
Or perhaps more accurately…
It had come for the silver rune disc.
Worried that the horses might be injured or frightened, William crossed the stream and deliberately moved toward the hill.
The bear seemed to interpret the action as a challenge.
It released a furious roar and charged downhill.
Despite its enormous size, it moved with shocking speed.
Good!
William broke into a run and met the charge head-on.
The distance rapidly closed.
Savage light glimmered in the bear’s tiny eyes.
Its jaws hung open wide, revealing rows of blade-like teeth.
A foul stench rolled from its mouth.
William carefully calculated the speed and distance between them, adjusting his footwork and stance.
But just as he prepared to strike, the bear suddenly roared and launched itself into the air.
The gigantic creature came crashing down like a mountain falling from the heavens.
Without heavy armor, even William dared not take such an impact directly.
He sidestepped to the left.
The bear’s massive body narrowly missed him.
At the same moment, he thrust out his sword by instinct.
Against a monster of this size, every wound mattered.
The blade struck something.
Joy flashed through William’s heart.
Then instantly turned into alarm.
An overwhelming force surged through his arm.
The sword was ripped from his grasp.
Only after the bear landed did William see what had happened.
The greatsword was buried deep in the left side of its back.
Half the blade had penetrated the flesh.
A wound that would have killed any man.
The bear barely seemed to notice.
Instead, it grew even more enraged.
Roaring thunderously, it reared onto its hind legs.
Its towering body rose more than ten feet high, blotting out the sunlight.
Then it dropped back onto all fours and charged again at full speed.
William could only stare in disbelief.
Then he dodged aside.
He had not expected things to unfold this way.
As the bear rushed past, William immediately circled toward its left flank, hoping to retrieve his sword.
The beast’s agility, however, was completely at odds with its size.
It spun halfway around and lashed out with a massive paw.
William was forced to evade once more.
If he had been wearing full plate armor, he would have gladly fought the beast head-on.
Trading punches and blows, he could have beaten it unconscious before long.
If he still had his sword, he could have carved the monster to pieces.
Blood loss alone would eventually kill it.
Instead, he found himself empty-handed.
Aside from dodging, there was little he could do.
Several exchanges followed.
Although none placed him in serious danger, William could not help feeling frustrated.
I still lack a truly decisive finishing move.
Fortunately, the sword remained lodged in the bear’s body.
The wound was not bleeding heavily, but the beast’s constant movement prevented it from healing.
Perhaps he could simply wear it down over time.
Yet the bear seemed to realize the same thing.
After forcing William back once more, it unexpectedly stopped attacking.
Instead, it turned and left.
William did not dare pursue it.
He could only watch the enormous silhouette disappear beyond the hills, his sword still embedded in its back.
There is definitely something wrong with that bear.
Retreating when the situation turned unfavorable?
Was it some magical beast?
Moreover, despite possessing such a massive and heavy body, it demonstrated incredible speed and agility.
I can’t shake the suspicion that magic somehow strengthened it.
Returning to the stream, he checked his belongings.
The rune disc remained safely inside its box.
Not wishing to linger in such a strange place, he quickly resumed his journey.
Although he had lost his sword, the remainder of the trip passed without incident.
Riding hard, he finally reached Harrenton as the setting sun painted the sky gold.
Passing through the town’s main street, William noticed that the settlement seemed more prosperous than when he had left.
Apparently, his constant letters to Walter from Oldtown, filled with economic theories and practical advice, had produced some results.
Beyond the town rose the gatehouse of Harrenhal.
Looking up, he could see the tops of the Five Towers in the distance, reaching toward the sky like giant fingers stirring the passing clouds.
The gates stood wide open.
A simple barricade blocked the center of the road.
Rows of sun shelters had been erected on either side, beneath which more than a dozen soldiers lounged or stood watch.
As William approached, he noticed they all wore matching leather armor.
Bat sigils adorned their surcoats.
Their weapons appeared decent, and their discipline was passable.
At the very least, they had the sense to assume defensive positions when a rider approached.
Two soldiers carrying shields stepped forward.
Judging by William’s dusty appearance, they clearly took him for an ordinary traveler.
One of them shouted loudly, “Hey!
Stop right there!
Who are you?” His gaze shifted toward the Dornish sand steed and the impressive warhorse accompanying it.
“A horse trader, perhaps?” “No,” William replied.
“I’m just trying to go home.” “Home?” The soldier laughed.
“This is Harrenhal.
Can’t you see the giant castle?
Or is your home just as big?” The remark drew laughter from the surrounding guards.
William pushed back his hood.
“I am William Whent.” The soldiers stared blankly.
Seeing their confusion, he added, “My father is Lord Walter Whent.” The expressions on the soldiers’ faces immediately became far more interesting.