By the time a servant came to inform Garon that the feast was about to begin, the sun had already begun sinking toward the western horizon.
After tidying his clothes and adjusting the sword hanging at his waist, Garon calmly stepped out of his guest chamber and made his way through the corridors of the inner keep.
Soon, he arrived at the bustling training yard outside the Great Hall.
Standing atop the stone steps, Garon paused for a moment and quietly observed his surroundings.
Within his sight, sworn swords, household knights, bannermen, and nobles from all across the North were steadily gathering toward the Great Hall in groups of twos and threes. Laughter and lively conversation filled the cold evening air as everyone anticipated the grand feast held in honor of the King's arrival.
Just then, a familiar voice called out from the crowd.
"Garon, over here!"
Garon turned toward the sound and immediately spotted Jon Snow waving enthusiastically at him from beside the yard wall.
He walked over with a smile.
"Jon, weren't you supposed to be accompanying Lord Benjen?"
Jon shook his head helplessly.
"Uncle Benjen went to rest after meeting with Lord Ned. He'll appear later with the important guests."
Then he shrugged with self-mockery.
"As for me, I'm only a bastard. Nobody expects me to sit among the nobles."
Garon immediately understood what he meant.
"That's fine," he replied casually. "A nobody like me can keep another nobody company."
The two exchanged glances before bursting into laughter together.
Side by side, they joined the stream of guests heading toward the Great Hall.
Not long afterward, the pair entered the hall itself.
Under Maester Luwin's arrangements, however, they were soon separated.
Garon was seated among Winterfell's bannermen and household knights, while Jon was placed near the far end of the hall alongside squires, minor retainers, and younger men. Roger, Garon's captain of the guard, was likewise seated at Jon's table.
Fortunately, the two tables were positioned along the aisle leading toward the high dais, so when the King and the royal family entered later, everyone would have a clear view.
After exchanging greetings with Ser Rodrik Cassel and several Northern nobles nearby, Garon finally had the chance to carefully observe the Great Hall itself.
The feast had not officially begun yet, and many of the principal guests had still not arrived.
Warm steam and the scent of roasted meat filled the air, mixing with the aroma of fresh bread and strong ale.
Upon the gray stone walls hung the banners of great houses from across the realm.
The direwolf of House Stark stood proudly upon its white field.
The crowned black stag of House Baratheon gleamed upon gold.
The crimson lion of House Lannister seemed almost alive beneath the torchlight.
Garon's gaze swept slowly across those banners, and a burning ambition quietly rose within his heart.
"One day, the silver fist of House Glover will also hang proudly in Winterfell's Great Hall."
As the hall gradually filled with guests, the important figures finally began appearing one after another.
Everyone rose to their feet.
Garon's eyes turned toward the entrance.
First to enter was Eddard Stark escorting Queen Cersei Lannister.
Cersei walked forward with the pride and confidence of a lioness. Her emerald eyes never once lingered upon the gathered Northern nobles. From the moment she entered the hall, her gaze remained fixed upon the high seat at the dais as though nobody else present was worthy of notice.
Even when Ned courteously assisted her up the steps, she merely offered him a perfunctory smile without sparing him a second glance.
"Heh… Cersei Lannister."
As Garon watched the dazzling queen beneath the torchlight, a strange impulse quietly stirred within him.
At that very moment, King Robert Baratheon entered the hall arm in arm with Lady Catelyn Stark.
Robert strode forward like a conqueror returning from war, his booming laughter and commanding presence instantly dominating the hall.
Beside him, Catelyn maintained a graceful and composed smile befitting the Lady of Winterfell.
Garon silently observed the pair ascend toward the dais.
But as Catelyn passed before his table, her eyes briefly met his own.
A faint smile flickered across her face.
It lasted only an instant, yet Garon's heart immediately sank.
"She's definitely planning something tonight."
"Did she already speak with Robert?"
"Otherwise, why would she appear so confident?"
His thoughts rapidly churned.
Garon silently considered every possibility, trying to guess what Catelyn intended to do in order to interfere with the betrothal.
Yet no matter how much he thought about it, he could not determine her exact method.
Eventually, he suppressed his thoughts.
"Forget it."
"I'll deal with whatever comes."
Soon after Robert and Catelyn took their seats, Rickon Stark entered the hall trying his utmost to appear solemn and mature.
Unfortunately, the moment he spotted Jon Snow, all his efforts collapsed instantly.
"Jon!"
Rickon excitedly waved toward him from across the hall, causing several nearby nobles to laugh softly.
Jon could only grin helplessly and urge him to hurry to his seat.
After Rickon came Robb Stark, escorting Princess Myrcella into the hall by the hand.
Though she had not yet reached ten years of age, Myrcella already possessed remarkable beauty and noble grace.
Meanwhile, Robb kept glancing toward her with an irrepressible grin plastered across his face.
Poor Myrcella could only respond with awkward politeness.
Garon could not help shaking his head inwardly.
"Gods, Robb."
"Can't you see how uncomfortable you're making the poor girl?"
As Robb passed by his table, Garon subtly shot him a warning glance.
Unfortunately, Robb was too busy staring at Myrcella to notice anything else.
Only after finally sitting down did he regain some composure.
Afterward came Arya Stark and Prince Tommen.
The two children were unfamiliar with one another and behaved relatively quietly.
Then, at last, Sansa Stark entered the hall escorted by Prince Joffrey Baratheon.
Joffrey's expression immediately revealed his disdain for Winterfell.
He surveyed the ancient Great Hall with obvious contempt, as though the proud seat of the Kings in the North were nothing more than some crude countryside fortress.
As he walked, he occasionally glanced arrogantly toward the Northern lords before turning to flash Sansa what he clearly considered a charming smile.
Sansa, however, responded politely yet distantly from beginning to end.
Only when passing by Garon's table did her expression subtly change.
A trace of joy and shyness appeared within her eyes.
Especially when Garon looked at her with warm affection.
Joffrey immediately noticed Sansa's reaction.
His expression darkened slightly as he followed her gaze toward Garon.
Then he realized something even more unpleasant.
Garon was taller than him.
And far more imposing.
Jealousy instantly flashed within Joffrey's eyes.
He let out a cold snort and abruptly quickened his pace, forcing Sansa to do the same.
This ungentlemanly behavior caused Jaime Lannister, walking behind them, to frown slightly.
Jaime himself had not noticed Garon at all. He merely assumed Joffrey was throwing another childish tantrum.
Behind Jaime waddled Tyrion Lannister with somewhat shaky steps.
The afternoon's activities had indeed proven Garon correct.
At this moment, Tyrion's legs were visibly weak, though his face carried the utterly satisfied smile of a man who had just experienced paradise.
As he passed Garon's table, Tyrion even gave him a knowing wink.
The gesture left Garon momentarily speechless.
Finally, Benjen Stark of the Night's Watch entered the hall dressed in black, accompanied by Ned Stark's ward, Theon Greyjoy.
Benjen smiled and nodded toward Garon in greeting, and Garon returned the gesture politely.
Meanwhile, beside him, Theon Greyjoy was barely able to suppress the triumph in his heart.
Ever since Lady Catelyn privately approached him before the feast, Theon had remained in an exceptionally good mood.
Thinking about what would soon happen, his face nearly overflowed with smug satisfaction.
"Garon…"
"With Lady Catelyn's plan tonight…"
"This will be your final feast in Winterfell."
"You'll never get the chance to marry Sansa Stark."
During these past few days, Theon had been repeatedly overshadowed by Garon.
Even Robb increasingly sided with Garon, which deeply humiliated Theon's pride.
Therefore, when Catelyn sought his cooperation earlier, he agreed without hesitation.
At this moment, Theon deliberately shot Garon a provocative look, already imagining the frustration and humiliation Garon would soon suffer.
Garon naturally noticed the expression.
Yet inwardly, he remained perfectly calm.
"Judging by that face, he's clearly prepared some scheme together with Catelyn."
"Fine then."
"Let's see whose methods are superior."
Garon silently sharpened his vigilance to the highest level.
Soon afterward, every seat within Winterfell's Great Hall was filled.
Ned Stark finally rose from the high table holding his wine cup.
The hall gradually quieted.
"My lords and ladies," Ned declared solemnly, "His Grace the King and Her Grace the Queen have traveled thousands of miles to honor Winterfell with their presence."
"This is a great honor for the North."
"Raise your cups!"
"To the King and Queen!"
Instantly, countless voices roared throughout the hall.
"Long live the King!"
"Long live the Queen!"
When the cheers finally subsided, Robert Baratheon stood up without ceremony, drained his wine cup in a single gulp, and burst into hearty laughter.
"Enough of all this ceremony!"
"Tonight, we feast!"
Thunderous cheers immediately erupted throughout the Great Hall once more.