A pillar of white smoke rose in the distant sky, shooting straight into the clouds, looking abrupt and out of place. Soon, people in the camp began to notice. Those who understood its meaning whispered among themselves, and a sense of unease slowly spread. Soldiers hastily arranged their horses and equipment, while servants quickened their tasks.
Riverside Keep stirred as well. Before the gates were fully opened, a dozen fully armed cavalry charged out straight toward the convoy. Captain of the Guard, Ser Osmund Klein, led a few men to meet them outside the camp. The keep's cavalry halted in front of him; the leading knight didn't even dismount, exchanged a few hurried words with Osmund, and then led his men away.
Osmund turned to his deputy. "Ser Ambrose, I need you to take a squad and scout along the river. Stay careful not to get too close to the shore."
"As you command!" Ambrose Webber quickly returned to the camp. Soon, a squad of cavalry bearing green banners with golden roses emerged. After saluting Osmund, they sped away.
Osmund returned to the camp and found Garlan, who was staring at the sky. With a stern face, he spoke quietly, "Ser Reynard suggests we depart immediately."
"This seems to be an alert from Starpike. This place should still be safe, right?" Garlan asked, puzzled.
"The Riverside Keep sentries also saw the longships. Ser Reynard went to the riverbank to investigate. We cannot rule out the possibility of a large Ironborn force here as well."
It was unusual for two distant keeps to spot Ironborn at the same time. Garlan nodded. "I'll go find Margaery." He swung onto his horse.
At the wheel palace, Garlan saw three companions chatting, but Margaery was not beside them. Feeling a little strange, he asked the more composed of her companions, Alla Tyrell, "Miss Alla, where has Miss Margaery gone?"
"She's over there, with Ser William, Ser Garlan," Alla said shyly.
Seeing Garlan still confused, another, more alert companion, Elinor Tyrell, quickly added, "Miss Margaery wanted to ask Ser William about his new song."
Garlan looked at the three girls, unsure what to say. This was their excuse to give him a chance to be alone with her? The girls, aware of their misstep, lowered their heads, embarrassed under Garlan's reproachful gaze.
Had he just let a wolf into the house? Watching the two figures ahead, Garlan hesitated briefly, then spurred his horse toward them.
William and Margaery were caught in a loop of "Listen to me! Listen to me! Listen to me!" and "I won't listen! I won't listen! I won't listen!" Until Garlan approached, Margaery quickly pulled her hand from William's, turned to face away from him, and crossed her hands over her chest. William felt the awkwardness of being caught sneaking a cabbage, while Margaery's expression was exquisite—shy, annoyed, frustrated, and confused all at once.
This was how a young lady should look. Garlan felt a sudden sense of relief. He couldn't remember the last time he saw Margaery so childlike.
He guided his warhorse closer. "Sorry to interrupt your music discussion, but there's some bad news. We have to leave immediately."
Seeing William and Margaery remain in their previous postures, unmoved by the warning, Garlan pointed toward the distant horizon. "Do you see the smoke? That's an alert of Ironborn sightings. Their numbers could be large. We must leave quickly."
William and Margaery both showed signs of surprise.
Garlan looked at William. "William, your horse and gear have been prepared. You'll leave alone. Be careful on the road."
"Do you think I'd flee in the face of danger, Garlan? At a time like this, I must be with you." William's tone was firm. "We've come this far—leaving now would undo everything." He glanced at Margaery and added, "I will protect Miss Margaery."
"Very well, William. You escort Margaery back quickly. I'll go to Riverside Keep and find a spare set of armor for you."
Then he looked at Margaery, lowered his voice, and said, "I really liked how you just looked, my sister." With that, he turned his horse and rode off, smiling.
Margaery paused, then let out a small laugh.
William wasn't foolish either. He quickly realized the situation. If he had known Margaery felt this way, he wouldn't have minded pursuing the relationship first, before magic… He just wished he could reload a save. For now, he didn't need to think about romance, but magic still required effort. Seeing Margaery's mood improve, he moved closer to her.
"Margaery, believe me, if you don't learn magic, it's a waste of talent."
"Hmph!" Margaery ignored his outstretched hand and lifted her skirts to walk. William shook his head with a wry smile and hurried after her.
"Margaery, you cannot squander your youth."
"Hmph!"
"Magic is amazing, you know."
"So what? You still got beaten by Brother Garlan," Margaery said, walking quickly without looking back.
William was confident he could defeat Garlan next time, but "next time" sounded unconvincing. He tried another approach: "I'm several years younger than Garlan, yet I can match him blow for blow. Doesn't that show the power of magic?"
"And what use is that to me? My brothers will protect me."
"Magic isn't just for fighting. You've inherited the bloodline of Garth the Greenhand—you can learn lots of magic connected to plants."
"Stop talking. I don't want to hear it. I don't need to tend to flowers and plants."
Even when they returned to the camp, and Margaery and her companions boarded the wheel palace, William still couldn't get her to relent.
But he was already quite satisfied. Last night, he had given up on trying to guide Margaery, and today he had openly discussed magic with her. Just one step away from a breakthrough, the progress was enormous.
Soon, Garlan arrived beside the wheel palace with a full set of Tyrell heavy cavalry armor. A servant immediately came to help William change. William was familiar enough with armor to test it quickly; the quality was good. Though mass-produced armor wasn't as comfortable as custom-made, the protection was nearly the same.
With the servant's help, William quickly donned the armor. Garlan noticed his tall frame; in a few years, as he grew further, only custom armor would fit him. Finally, he put on his helmet, featuring a large bat on the front. Though it looked fierce, the overall effect was somewhat comical.
"William, the House Whent crest doesn't have this kind of bat," Garlan remarked, unable to hold back.
"That's right. I designed it myself. I call it the gaping-mouthed bat. How's that? Impressive, right?"
Garlan thought their ideas of "impressive" were quite different. He subconsciously touched his own personal crest on his armor—the two golden roses on a green field, signifying his status as the second son. "You're different from me. You're the heir of House Whent."
William patted his shoulder. "I'd love to give you a fief and make you my vassal, but no fief could compare to you. Too bad you're a Tyrell; it can only stay a thought."
Garlan shook his head with a smile, unsure which part of William's words he was rejecting.
Commands and responses rose in succession, signaling the convoy was about to move.
As Garlan mounted his horse, he saw William deftly swing into the saddle as well, his heavy armor seemingly weightless. Normally, heavy cavalry needed assistance mounting, and everyone present was amazed.
Seeing the astonished expressions, William realized the cause, but pretended not to notice. He checked his gear—longsword, rapier, shield, meteor hammer—all accounted for. Nodding with satisfaction, he rode to the side of the wheel palace.
The convoy began to move slowly. The sky was clear, a bright sunny day, but the pillar of smoke cast a faint shadow over everyone's hearts.