The last traces of sunset faded beyond the horizon as night descended upon the Reach.
The towering Red Mountains became little more than dark silhouettes against the sky, while Horn Hill, nestled between lake and mountain, blazed with light.
Massive chandeliers hung from the banquet hall’s ceiling.
Elegant candelabras stood in every corner, each crowded with dozens of burning candles.
Their combined glow illuminated the vast chamber as brightly as day itself, making the hall’s gold and crimson decorations appear even more magnificent.
The feast had already begun.
Singers performed lively ballads.
Jugglers entertained the guests.
Servants moved tirelessly among the tables carrying platters of food and overflowing pitchers of wine.
Laughter and conversation filled the air.
Only a few dozen nobles had attended, occupying less than half the hall.
For a house as prestigious as House Tarly, that might have seemed unusual.
William, however, wasn’t surprised.
The Reach was a land obsessed with martial prowess.
Every year, dozens of tournaments are held throughout the region.
Unless an event carried special significance, hosts rarely bothered sending invitations across the entire Reach.
Lord Randyll Tarly had invited only a handful of families: House Tyrell, as his liege lords; House Florent, the family of Lady Melessa Tarly; House Peake and House Leygood, both neighboring houses and long-standing allies in the struggles against the Dornish Marches.
As for House Fossoway of Cider Hall, everyone knew they were there largely because of Garlan Tyrell.
The seating followed traditional Westerosi customs.
The lords and ladies occupied the raised dais at the front of the hall, men seated to the left and women to the right.
Their children and bannermen sat at long tables facing them.
Again, men to the left, women to the right.
Further back sat landed knights, hedge knights, and lesser guests.
Everything reflected rank and status.
As for female knights?
Brienne of Tarth had yet to make her name known to the Seven Kingdoms.
William’s position was somewhat awkward.
Technically, as an uninvited guest, he should have been seated among the lesser knights.
Strictly speaking, he wasn’t even a knight yet.
On the other hand, he was the heir to Harrenhal.
That entitled him to considerably more respect.
Since he and Sam had become friends earlier that day, William simply followed him to the table furthest to the right.
It was the seat farthest from Lord Randyll Tarly, which naturally made it Sam’s favorite table.
Seated there were Sam’s three younger sisters, each separated by roughly a year from the next.
Add young Dickon Tarly to the count, and William found himself silently saluting Lady Melessa Tarly.
She’s a hero among mothers.
Also seated at their table was Lady Leonette Fossoway.
Watching the woman who had just been crowned Queen of Love and Beauty sitting quietly among several young girls, William couldn’t help feeling slightly sympathetic.
Is this what happens when you monopolize Garlan Tyrell?
The world of noblewomen is ruthless too…
When Sam introduced him, the girls politely returned his greetings.
Leonette even complimented his performance in the joust.
The atmosphere at their table was relaxed and pleasant.
Everyone chatted freely while enjoying the feast.
With William encouraging the conversation, Sam’s surprisingly sharp sense of humor emerged in full force.
His sisters laughed repeatedly.
Even Leonette found herself smiling more than once.
Eventually, William decided he had eaten enough.
Setting down his knife and fork, he slowly sipped from a goblet of wine while observing the hall.
Unfortunately, their table sat at the far right side of the room.
Everywhere he looked, he saw noble ladies rather than the young lords and knights he had hoped to meet.
Instead, he found himself receiving quite a few curious glances.
And some decidedly less innocent ones.
After all, William Whent checked an impressive number of boxes.
Heir to Harrenhal.
Winner of countless tournament prizes.
Young.
Wealthy.
Handsome.
A gifted warrior.
To many noble girls, he was practically a dream husband.
William secretly enjoyed the attention.
Then his gaze drifted toward the high table.
Because of the seating arrangement, he could only clearly see the women seated there.
And among them, one figure stood out instantly.
Margaery Tyrell.
It wasn’t because she resembled the actress from another world.
Nor because of her famous soft eyes and chestnut curls.
Rather, among several mature and elegant noblewomen, there sat a single young girl.
The contrast made her impossible to miss.
William considered himself fairly resistant to beautiful women.
Years of internet culture from his previous life had given him plenty of experience.
Even so, he had to admit that the Rose of Highgarden possessed extraordinary beauty.
There was something magnetic about her.
Something that drew the eye and refused to let go.
And she’s only thirteen.
Give her a few more years and kingdoms might genuinely go to war over her.
As he quietly appreciated the view, Margaery suddenly turned.
Their eyes met.
For an instant, William froze.
His pupils contracted sharply.
A faint smile appeared on Margaery’s lips.
She had long since grown accustomed to men staring at her.
As far as she could tell, William’s gaze was no different from countless others.
Unbothered, she simply looked away and resumed her conversation.
Meanwhile, William felt a storm erupt inside his mind.
Not because of attraction.
Because of fear.
Ever since arriving in Westeros, he had believed his magical talent was unique.
A gift reserved for him alone.
But just now, he had sensed something.
A familiar presence.
Weak.
Extremely weak.
Yet undeniably real.
The same quality he possessed.
Magic.
Perhaps only a spark.
But the difference between zero and one was infinite.
If there was a second person with magical potential…
There could be a third.
A fourth.
Hundreds more.
For all he knew, some hidden order of sorcerers might already exist somewhere in the world.
His thoughts spiraled.
Noticing William staring toward Margaery, Sam leaned closer.
His eyes immediately lit up, like every other teenage boy in the Reach.
“Look.” He grinned foolishly.
“That’s Lady Margaery.
She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” “Yeah,” William answered absentmindedly.
“Uniquely beautiful.” His mind remained elsewhere entirely.
Then someone suddenly clapped a hand onto his shoulder.
William looked up.
Garlan Tyrell stood beside him.
He should have been seated on the dais.
Instead, he had somehow found his way here.
Garlan smiled.
“You look troubled.” Before William could answer, Sam immediately chimed in.
“Obviously because of Lady Margaery.
Looks like she has another admirer.” “Oh?” Garlan looked mildly surprised.
He glanced between William and his sister, then laughed.
“Honestly, that makes me rather proud.” Pulling out a chair, he sat down beside William.
Across the table, Leonette smiled warmly at him.
Their exchanged looks spoke volumes.
William patiently waited for the two of them to finish communicating entirely through eye contact.
Then he raised his goblet.
“Garlan, thank the Seven you’re here.” He forced a smile.
“Otherwise I’d have nobody to drink with.” He raised his cup.
“A true friendship requires a full cup.
Drink!” He drained the wine in one swallow.
Laughing, Garlan followed suit.
From there, William launched a relentless campaign of encouraging everyone to drink.
The bizarre drinking toasts he invented on the spot were unlike anything the Reachmen had ever heard.
The table quickly dissolved into laughter.
One toast became three.
Three became ten.
Soon everyone was drinking.
By the time William began feeling pleasantly lightheaded, he reached for another cup.
A hand stopped him.
Garlan’s hand.
William looked up.
Garlan’s expression had become serious.
“You’re afraid.” William blinked.
“That’s not the William I know.” William stared at him.
“You don’t know me.
We met for the first time this afternoon.” Garlan shook his head.
“We crossed lances eleven times.” His voice was calm.
“That was a long time.” A small smile appeared.
“So yes, William.
I’ve known you for a very long time.” William couldn’t help remembering the match.
The brutal charges.
The shattered lances.
The final defeat.
It truly had felt like an eternity.
Still…
“What kind of person do you think I am?” Garlan answered immediately.
“Fearless.” William almost laughed.
Fearless?
That’s probably just what magical healing looks like from the outside.
But Garlan continued.
“I watched yesterday’s melee.
You always acted decisively.
Whether attacking or defending.
Whether facing one opponent or two.
Once you made a decision, you committed completely.” He leaned forward slightly.
“Many times your decisions were wrong.
They put you in danger.
But your decisiveness always overcame your opponents’ hesitation.” William fell silent.
That assessment was uncomfortably accurate.
Garlan lowered his voice.
“So during our joust, I told myself something.
The only way to defeat you was to be even more decisive.” His eyes narrowed slightly.
“In the final pass, your thoughts wavered.
Didn’t they?” William immediately remembered that crucial moment.
The hesitation.
The uncertainty.
The impact.
Slowly, he nodded.
Garlan leaned back.
“But what impressed me most happened afterward.
You were lying on the ground.
Your breastplate looked crushed.
You looked terrible.” “I wasn’t worried you’d die.
The maester was already there.” His gaze sharpened.
“What worried me was that you’d never recover mentally.
That one defeat would break something inside you.” A faint smile appeared.
“But when I walked over, you were exactly the same.
Still joking.
Still calm.
As though losing had changed nothing.” Garlan leaned closer once more.
His voice became little more than a whisper.
“You weren’t afraid of me.
You were already thinking about how to beat me next time.” William stared.
Because that was exactly what he had been thinking.
With proper strategy and magic, he genuinely believed he could win.
Garlan sat back.
Then asked quietly: “So what are you afraid of?” The question struck like lightning.
That’s right.
What am I afraid of?
So there were other people with magical potential.
So what?
He possessed knowledge no one else in this world could imagine.
He knew secrets capable of shaking kingdoms.
He knew conspiracies before they happened.
He understood many people better than they understood themselves.
Most importantly…
He knew the future.
Even without magic, those advantages alone made him something completely abnormal.
A bug in the world’s design.
William looked at Garlan.
Really looked at him.
Long enough that Leonette began eyeing him suspiciously.
She even cleared her throat twice.
Only then did the two young men suddenly burst into laughter.
Their goblets met.
Wine splashed.
They drank deeply.
No words of gratitude were necessary.
Garlan had misunderstood the source of William’s worries.
But that didn’t matter.
William would remember this kindness.
Setting down his cup, he thought for a moment.
Then he asked: “Hypothetically.” Garlan immediately looked suspicious.
“Hypothetically.” “If one day I ran away with Margaery…” “What would you do?” For the first time all evening, Garlan Tyrell’s warm expression vanished.
His face turned colder than winter.
Without hesitation, he replied: “I’d kill you.” The answer came so quickly that William nearly choked on his wine.
Across the table, Leonette burst out laughing.
And somewhere on the high dais, entirely unaware of the conversation, Margaery Tyrell continued chatting happily beneath the candlelight.
Like a rose that had yet to fully bloom.
Beautiful.
Dangerous.
And completely beyond William’s reach.
For now.