After leaving King's Landing, William traveled along the Roseroad, riding by day and resting by night, unhurried. It took him seven days to reach Bitterbridge, and he arrived at Highgarden on the thirteenth day after leaving King's Landing—whereas last time it had only taken him twelve days to travel from Oldtown to Harrenhal.
Westeros only had five true cities: King's Landing, Oldtown, Lannisport, Gulltown, and White Harbor. Like Harrenhal, Highgarden was essentially a military stronghold, only much more beautiful. Just as Harrenhal had a nearby Harrenhal Town, Highgarden had Highgarden Town, which was naturally far more bustling. Fearing that Lord Mace might still harbor resentment, William did not visit Garlan and Margaery, instead spending the night in Highgarden Town to avoid unnecessary trouble.
The next day, he resumed his journey, reaching Ten-Mile Town by noon. Over a month had passed since the last raid, and the streets had been cleaned; only some partially repaired houses still bore faint scorch marks. Shops were mostly open, and the streets were busy with passersby, some occupied, some chatting and laughing, seemingly fully recovered from the disaster.
Riding through the streets, William recalled the details of the battle, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. At the crossroads where Eric and Bob had died, he dismounted, led his horse to the site, stood at attention, and bowed his head in silent mourning. "Perhaps they fought for Garlan, but they truly died for me as well."
After a moment, he noticed a large carriage escorted by a troop of cavalry passing across the street to the north. The carriage was grand, with a prominent green-and-gold rose on its window—certainly someone important. Putting aside his sentiment, William led his horse to a nearby inn to have lunch and subtly inquire about the caravan while being served.
It turned out that Ten-Mile Town had been holding a sizable celebration in recent days, both to honor the victims and to showcase that reconstruction was largely complete. Invitations had gone out to nearby lords, naturally including Highgarden. However, Lady Tyrell and Lord Mace were too high-ranking to attend; Willas was unable to travel, Garlan had no interest, leaving only the ever-approachable Margaery, who was likely returning to Highgarden that day.
For a moment, William felt the urge to pursue her immediately, but perhaps the recent life-and-death trials had given him a calmer perspective. He stood still, gripping his hands, then slowly unclenched them, picked up his cup, and sipped his wine deliberately.
Four days later, William returned to Oldtown. As he passed through the city gate, thinking of returning to a familiar life and rhythm, he finally smiled.
The next morning, William reluctantly returned the desert horse that had carried him thousands of miles to the Garth estate on the west bank of the Honeywine, then set off with a large sack toward Hight Tower. Over the past month, the news of Ten-Mile Town had spread widely. Even the most aloof knights of House Hightower now approached him politely, praising his knightly spirit and bravery. Even Erren, who had once doubted him, admitted respect, saying he would record the tale of how William had once been defeated by him—a story to boast about for a lifetime.
William could no longer hide his strength. Who wouldn't want to spar with a knight capable of decimating giants like Ronan? At the earnest request of the other knights, he bested them one by one, earning countless praises of "Impressive! Truly impressive!" and realizing he could never return to his old life.
Curiously, though, he had not seen Malora for several consecutive days, which puzzled him—wasn't she always wandering around the tower?
That day, he happened upon Malora's maid and quickly stopped her to ask questions. The story of the four knights had grown even more exaggerated among the servants. Seeing William, the maid blushed deeply, lowering her head but occasionally stealing glances. She explained the situation: for about a month, Malora had gone out less and less, and in recent days had not left the house at all. Counting the days, this coincided with when she had received the notebook. A foreboding sense washed over William. He asked the maid to take him to Malora. Though surprised, she happily agreed.
Although High Tower had advanced elevators that could reach the top floor, the Hightower family primarily resided between the second and fifth floors. Servants lived on the second floor, soldiers on the third, knights on the fourth, and family members on the fifth—an order strictly maintained, with clear divisions and hierarchy.
This was William's first time entering Malora's room. The room was huge; upon entering, he saw a bookshelf that spanned an entire wall, packed full of books of every kind. Even just these books alone could be considered priceless. The rest of the furnishings were equally extravagant, with treasures from all over the world on display, instantly reminding the somewhat giddy William of how poor he actually was.
Malora stood by a massive window, gazing outside. William respectfully saluted and greeted her, "Good day, Lady Malora."
Malora seemed unaware, neither turning nor responding. William calmly approached. The window faced Oldtown, and through it, he could see across the Honeywine. Most prominent were the Starry Cathedral, surrounded by black marble walls, and the cluster of bishop's residences around it.
Standing beside Malora and pretending to admire the view, William sensed her magic—still the familiar frequency, but lethargic, like someone half-asleep. He discreetly examined her face from the side and saw a delicate, clean-featured face. "So she's actually quite pretty… wait a minute!"
Suddenly, William realized something was off. "She washed her face!" And then he noticed something even more alarming—he didn't smell the strange scent of potions, but perfume!
Just as William felt uneasy and considered slipping away while she remained unresponsive, Malora abruptly turned her head and fixed him with a stare. "Did you bring it?" Her tone was icy, her expression blank.
Clutching the bag in his hands, William knew he had come mainly to deliver these relics of Danelle to her. But seeing her like this, he felt genuinely afraid—a single notebook had changed her so drastically. Handing over this bag of relics… William shivered involuntarily.
"Give it here."
Her tone was still devoid of emotion, her expression still blank, yet William somehow felt an overwhelming pressure. He instinctively handed the bag over, and seeing that Malora made no move to take it, he gently placed it on the small table beside her.
"I'll call you if I need anything. You may go."
"Yes, ma'am!" William quickly bowed respectfully and withdrew, saying nothing more.
Only when he was in the elevator, watching the doors close and slowly descend, did he finally exhale, his tense nerves relaxing, though his expression remained unsettled. Of course, his cooperation with Malora—or whoever she truly was—was not without self-interest. She was the person most likely to completely solve the Harrenhal curse; whatever she demanded, he would obey. Yet if she continued to change like this, the consequences were unpredictable. She was the daughter of Count Hightower, Lord Leyton's most beloved daughter, after all.