A column of white smoke suddenly rose on the distant horizon, piercing straight into the sky and standing stark against the morning blue.
Before long, the entire camp had begun to notice it.
Those who understood its meaning started whispering among themselves, and an uneasy tension quickly spread through the encampment as soldiers rushed to prepare horses and equipment while servants hurriedly packed supplies.
Even Bitterbridge itself seemed to stir in response.
The castle gates had barely opened when more than a dozen fully armed riders thundered out and raced directly toward the Tyrell camp.
Ser Osmund Kettleblack, captain of the escort, immediately rode out with several men to meet them beyond the perimeter.
After a brief exchange with the riders, who did not even bother dismounting, they turned their horses and galloped away again.
Osmund then turned toward his lieutenant.
“Ser Vyrwel.” “I want a scouting party moving immediately.
Follow the river.
Stay away from the shoreline.” “Yes, ser.” Ebrose acted without delay.
Soon, a detachment of mounted men bearing the golden rose of House Tyrell rode out from the camp, saluted their commander, and vanished into the distance.
Returning to the main camp, Osmund sought out Garlan, who stood silently staring toward the rising smoke.
Lowering his voice, Osmund spoke with a grim expression.
“Ser Raynard recommends we depart as quickly as possible.” Garlan frowned.
“The warning appears to be coming from Sharp Point.
We should still be safe here, shouldn’t we?” “Perhaps.” Osmund’s expression remained tense.
“But Bitterbridge’s sentries have also spotted longships.
Ser Raynard personally inspected the river.” He paused slightly.
“We cannot rule out the possibility of a larger Ironborn force operating nearby.” That immediately changed the atmosphere.
Two separate fortifications reporting Ironborn activity was far from coincidence.
Garlan nodded at once.
“I’ll fetch Margaery.” He mounted and spurred his horse toward the wheelhouse.
Upon arriving, he found Margaery’s three companions chatting together, yet Margaery herself was nowhere to be seen.
His brow furrowed.
“Lady Alerie.” He addressed the most composed of the girls.
“Where is Lady Margaery?” The shy young woman lowered her gaze.
“Over there, Ser Garlan, with Ser William.” Seeing his confusion, another companion quickly added, “Lady Margaery wanted to ask Ser William about his new song.” The explanation hung awkwardly in the air.
Garlan stared at them.
The girls avoided his gaze, and the silence grew heavy, because everyone knew exactly how thin that excuse sounded.
You left Margaery Tyrell alone… to talk about music?
The thought flickered through Garlan’s mind.
After a brief pause, he turned his horse and rode toward the distant figures.
========== Meanwhile, William and Margaery were trapped in an escalating loop.
“Listen to me.” “I won’t.” “Listen.” “No.” “Please just listen.” “I said no.” Neither side was making any progress, and they were so absorbed in their argument that neither noticed Garlan approaching until he was nearly upon them.
Margaery immediately pulled her hand free from William’s grasp and turned away, crossing her arms defensively, while William looked like a man caught stealing cabbages from a farmer’s field.
Margaery’s expression was even more complicated, embarrassment, annoyance, confusion, and regret all flickering across her face at once.
Garlan, however, felt strangely relieved.
There she is.
That’s what a girl her age should look like.
Guiding his horse closer, he cleared his throat.
“My apologies.
I hate to interrupt your discussion of music.” His tone carried amusement.
“But we have unpleasant news.
We must leave immediately.” Neither of them reacted at first, still frozen in place, so Garlan sighed and pointed toward the distant horizon.
“See the smoke?
That’s a warning beacon.
Ironborn have been sighted, and judging by the signal, there may be quite a few of them.” Only then did both of them turn toward the smoke column, surprise flickering across their faces.
Garlan then looked at William.
“Your horse and belongings have already been prepared.
You’ll be traveling alone from here.
Be careful on the road.” William stared at him, then immediately looked offended.
“You think I’d run away at a time like this?” His voice rose with righteous indignation.
I’ve finally gotten this far with Margaery.
Leaving now would waste everything.
“Of course I’m staying.
I’ll travel with you.” Then, after glancing at Margaery, he added solemnly, “I must protect Lady Margaery.” Garlan rubbed his forehead.
“Very well.
Escort Margaery back to camp as quickly as possible.
I’ll see if Bitterbridge can spare a suit of armor.” Then he leaned slightly toward his sister, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
“I liked the look on your face just now, little sister.” Before she could respond, he turned his horse and rode away.
Margaery blinked once… then suddenly burst into laughter.
========== William was not stupid.
Not entirely.
At this point, he had finally realized something.
If he had known earlier that Margaery felt even slightly like this toward him, he would have approached everything differently.
Romance first.
Magic later.
Unfortunately, there was no way to reload a previous save.
The romantic route had already collapsed.
The magical route, however, was still salvageable.
Seeing Margaery’s mood improve slightly, William immediately moved closer again.
“Margaery.” She ignored him.
“If you don’t study magic, it would be an incredible waste.” “Hmph.” She brushed past his hand and continued walking.
“Margaery.” “Hmph.” “You can’t waste your potential.” “Hmph.” “Magic is amazing.” This time she finally responded without turning.
“So what?” “You still lost to Garlan.” A perfectly aimed blow.
William had full confidence he could eventually surpass Garlan, but “eventually” sounded weak.
So he changed tactics.
“I’m years younger than him.
We were nearly evenly matched.
Doesn’t that prove how powerful magic is?” Margaery remained unimpressed.
“What use is that to me?
My brothers will protect me.” “Magic isn’t only for fighting.” William seized the opening.
“You carry the blood of Garth Greenhand.
There are many plant-based spells you could learn.” “I don’t want to hear about it.” Her pace quickened.
“And I have no desire to spend my life tending flowers.” Even so, by the time they returned to camp, William still had not convinced her.
Not even slightly.
Margaery boarded the wheelhouse with her companions, and the discussion ended there.
Yet William could not help feeling satisfied.
Last night, he had nearly given up all hope of guiding her toward magic.
Now they were openly discussing it.
The door had opened.
Only one step remained.
========== A short while later, Garlan returned carrying a full set of Tyrell heavy cavalry armor.
With a servant’s help, William quickly equipped it, inspecting the craftsmanship with approval.
It was solid, though still inferior in comfort compared to his personal armor.
Garlan watched him carefully.
Even he could tell that in a few years, ordinary armor would no longer fit William properly.
Only custom-forged plate would suffice.
Then William put on the helmet.
A bat with spread wings and bared fangs adorned the front.
It was meant to look intimidating, but instead it looked slightly ridiculous.
Garlan finally gave up.
“William.
The Whent sigil doesn’t look like that.” “No.” William sounded proud.
“I designed it myself.” He tapped the helmet.
“I call it the Big-Mouth Bat.” “What do you think?
Magnificent, isn’t it?” Garlan chose not to answer honestly.
Their definitions of “magnificent” were clearly incompatible.
Almost unconsciously, he touched his own badge, two golden roses on green, symbolizing House Tyrell’s second son.
“You and I are not the same,” Garlan said with a shake of his head.
“You are the heir to Harrenhal.” William laughed.
“I’d gladly make you my bannerman.” He slapped Garlan’s shoulder.
“There isn’t a lord in Westeros I’d rather have.
Unfortunately, you are a Tyrell.
So I can only dream.” Garlan smiled faintly, neither agreeing nor refusing.
Soon after, orders echoed through the camp.
The column was preparing to move.
Garlan had barely mounted when William swung onto his horse effortlessly, as though the heavy armor weighed nothing at all.
Several knights stared in silence.
Normally, such armor required assistance just to mount a horse.
Only after noticing their reactions did William realize he had made a mistake.
Too late now.
He calmly inspected his equipment instead.
Longsword, arming sword, shield, morningstar, everything in order.
Satisfied, he rode beside the wheelhouse as the procession slowly set off.
Above them stretched a cloudless sky, warm and bright, yet the distant column of smoke cast a shadow over every heart.
Somewhere beyond the horizon, the Ironborn were coming.