Joffrey was completely baffled.
The ritual was clearly ordinary, yet suddenly, Leaf entering the Weirwood was as simple as a Skinchanger entering an animal, so naturally and seamlessly, like a calm breath.
His mental energy also followed Leaf into the Weirwood, experiencing the plant's wondrous perception of the world.
It had to be said, Weirwoods were indeed the best record keepers of history, never adding their own opinions to the facts, far more competent than human chroniclers and scholars.
But how was it done? How could one freely roam among countless Weirwoods out of thin air?
Recall magic could indeed alter the time nodes of viewing history, but throughout the entire process of Leaf leaving the old Weirwood and merging into a new one, Joffrey didn't feel any trace of magic.
Are my Eyes unable to see this power? Or is the world inherently this way, with invisible and imperceptible rules?
Hopefully, it's the former.
Joffrey knew his Eyes were still growing.
During this time, the light emitted by Magic Energy had become increasingly clear and transparent in his eyes, allowing him to see the faint Patterns wrapped in the dense Magic Energy and distinguish the dust-like Magic Energy light particles.
Perhaps one day he could break through the limit and see more of the world's mysteries, even interfering with the Runes themselves.
That would be true Divine Power.
It was also possible that the Old Gods used a very high level of power to create this rule: those with the talent who ate Weirwood seeds could integrate with all Weirwoods.
Did the Old Gods truly possess such power?
If it was true, how were they buried in the past? Or were they just resting?
Are the Old Gods still alive?
Joffrey didn't know, but the Weirwoods clearly couldn't give him enough sense of security.
He made a decision. The Weirwoods in the south must continue to be restricted, and the Greenseer ability should only be granted to the Children of the Forest. Let the Eyes of the Weirwoods always watch the North, watching the footsteps of the Others.
After all, Winter Is Coming.
"To the Hand of the King, the Warden of the North, the Lord of the North, Lord Eddard Stark! May his journey be safe and his mission successful." The Imp, Tyrion, raised his goblet high.
Beautiful music played in the ballroom, and pairs of dancers in the pool held each other's hands tightly, gazing up at the classical frescoes on the dome, spinning in magnificent circles.
"Winter Is Coming." The guests raised their goblets together, using the motto of House Stark as a toast in unison.
Most of the guests' laughter at this moment was genuine.
Lord Eddard hadn't been Hand of the King for long, but it was enough to show how out of place he was.
This Direwolf, though not as fierce as the wolves that had come south before, was equally cold-faced, looking down on all rules that didn't suit him.
Fortunately, like all Direwolves that had come south before, this one was also about to return to that icy land.
Winter Is Coming, what a perfect farewell message.
Eddard stood in a secluded corridor, politely acknowledging the crowd.
The guests were satisfied and turned their gaze back to the dance floor. Lord Eddard was indeed unchanged; he only belonged in the North.
Eddard was unaware of what the guests were thinking. Winter Is Coming, he thought, that's true.
Eddard had to believe it. Having seen the Children of the Forest, having seen supernatural power, and with news from the North and the King's dispatch, the threat beyond The Wall was by no means false.
If the Others hadn't truly appeared, why would the King allow all the armies of the North to go north?
On this point, Eddard was very satisfied with the King's decision. At least the King still remembered the needs of the North, even if it was just returning the people of the North to itself.
Mad King Aerys never remembered this point, thinking everything should belong to him. If it had been Rhaegar on the Iron Throne back then, perhaps not so many Lords would have rebelled, and the outcome might have been different.
In a daze, Eddard heard Lyanna's voice again, Ned, promise me...
Eddard couldn't help but worry about Jon. The child of his sister and Rhaegar, if Robert found out, he would likely go mad, and even if Joffrey learned Jon's true parentage, he couldn't possibly continue to accept him.
Eddard wanted to take him back to the North, but what reason could he use?
Jon was already an officer in the King's Landing City Watch and should fight for the King.
Eddard had thought about persuading him to quit, but every time he met Jon, the face with Lyanna's faint outline was filled with a longing for achievement, making it impossible for him to speak.
Moreover, Winter Is Coming. Which was safer, the North or the Red Keep? Which was more terrifying, the Others or swords? Eddard couldn't be sure.
Eddard also thought of his Bran, Arya, and Sansa.
Sansa was already betrothed to the King; she was destined to stay in the Red Keep and might never return to the North.
Bran and Arya didn't have to stay. But after asking for their opinions, Eddard received unexpected responses.
Bran wanted to be a Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, to wear white armor and white robes; he refused to leave.
Arya was reluctant to leave Jon and Bran, and also unwilling to return to the North to wait to be married. She also insisted on staying in the Red Keep, saying she wanted to be a female Warrior like Nymeria.
Eddard didn't insist; he couldn't shatter his children's dreams.
He was just a little worried.
How could he not worry? Leaving his children in a place like the Red Keep, without their parents nearby, only Cersei.
Eddard looked at Queen Mother Cersei, who was seated on the high platform in the ballroom.
At this moment, she looked so perfect, practically the Mother of the Seven Kingdoms, kind and graceful, completely different from the unreasonable madwoman Robert described.
Eddard, of course, knew which side was her true self. More unfortunately, she was even the Regent.
Compared to Cersei, even the capricious King seemed like a more competent ruler.
"Lord Eddard." The King's voice came from behind him.
"Your Majesty." Eddard turned and bowed.
The King walked a few steps closer with a friendly air. "You are the guest of honor tonight, why are you just standing here? Many guests are worried you aren't enjoying yourself enough."
There wasn't a trace of a smile on Eddard's face. "The feast is excellent, I was just thinking about the North."
The King sighed. "It's my fault too, I focused too much on the war in the south and couldn't give the North more support. I hope this tragic war ends soon."
"Please rest assured, Your Majesty. Although the North has no strength to spare, Lord Tywin, House Tully, and House Arryn will not stand by and do nothing. Renly's rebellion will surely not succeed." Eddard wasn't certain.
The King placed a hand on his shoulder. "Please trouble yourself, Lord Eddard. You are a good friend to the Tullys and Arryns."
Eddard seemed to understand the King's purpose. "Your Majesty, I will do my best. I believe..."
Mid-sentence, Eddard froze. He felt something.
The King slowly withdrew his right hand from his shoulder. "Feels good, doesn't it? This is the highest level of Divine Grace, my farewell gift to you."
A strange blue Light Screen popped up in Eddard's vision, unmoving no matter how much he blinked or shook his head.
So this was Divine Grace.
An invisible power was continuously surging within him. He quickly realized that it would maintain the existence of the blue Light Screen until the endless end.
Is that all?
The King's smile was gentle. "Lord Eddard, take care of yourself. The Gods need you, the people need you."
"Remember, Light Eternal."
Eddard vaguely felt his heart sink, as if layers of visible and invisible shackles were being placed upon him.
Robert, Sansa, Bran, Arya, Jon, honor, duty, faith, oaths... and the coldest Divine Grace.
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