Sunlight gently poured through the thin mist onto the grass, dew sparkling, and the cool morning breeze carried a faint floral fragrance.
Hundreds of knights, a dozen or so carriages, and the royal wheel palace formed a grand procession, slowly leaving Harrenhal's gates; banners of various families fluttered in the wind. Among the more prominent were the Tyrells' green field with a golden rose, the Hightowers' gray field with a white tower, the Florent family's red and gold fox, the Redwyns' purple grapes, and the Clarens' blue field with a golden crane—a spectacular sight.
Besides these major families, smaller family banners also appeared in the procession. One banner, a black bat on a gold field, stood out. A year or two ago, most people in the Reach might not have recognized it, but now almost everyone knew it represented the House Whent of Harrenhal, whose story as a magic knight had become legendary, and his origins were much talked about.
This was the bridal procession heading to New Barrel City. Garlan was well-liked, and many young nobles had voluntarily come to help. Among this mostly youthful escort, the highest-ranking was Ser Baelor. Although the Fossoways were also an ancient family, Leonette came from a cadet branch, and with Baelor presiding, the ceremony's prestige was assured.
Most of the journey from Highgarden to New Barrel was along the flat Roseroad. At a full gallop, it could be covered in less than two days, but this time, many ladies were traveling, and several slow-moving wheel palaces were in the procession. Therefore, the plan was to take ten days for a round trip, returning with the bride two days before the wedding.
William planned to use this time to teach Margaery magic—during the daily campsite rests.
He rode his black warhorse alongside Erren, staying not far from Margaery's wheel palace, while nobles of various ranks surrounded Baelor and Garlan slightly ahead.
"Seems not everyone likes magic knights," Erren said mischievously.
"Right, you're so kind, coming to keep me company. Thanks!"
A Harrenhal knight approached, greeted William briefly, and, having a duty, excused himself after a short conversation.
William looked at Erren proudly. "See? Not everyone dislikes magic knights."
Erren laughed heartily.
This was William's current situation: those who knew him were generally friendly, while unfamiliar nobles and knights kept their distance.
The two enjoyed the scenery along the way, teasing and joking, occasionally speaking with familiar knights passing by—it was far from boring.
Suddenly, William sensed a rider speeding in from the rear flank. Turning, he saw a golden sand-colored warhorse thundering forward, atop it an elegant figure.
Nymeria wore a purple jacket, her jewelry sparkling in the sunlight; her brass-colored silk cloak fluttered in the wind, appearing to fly against the backdrop of the open blue sky.
In the instant they rode side by side, a cold gleam shot toward William.
The dagger wasn't fast—William easily caught the hilt, staring blankly at her retreating figure.
Erren laughed loudly beside him, winking and teasing, "William, aren't you going to return the dagger to Lady Nymeria? Or give it to me, I'll return it for you."
William gave him a disdainful look, shook the reins, and chased after Nymeria.
Across a field like a green carpet, William caught up. They slowed their pace, riding side by side. Not far beside them was the bridal procession moving slowly along Roseroad, hooves kicking up dust; behind them, a dozen Dorne knights' spear tips glinted sharply in the sun.
"Your little rose truly is pitifully lovely," Nymeria said, looking at William, her delicate lilac tongue licking her petal-like red lips. "No wonder you would fight a hundred for her. It was worth my journey all the way from Dorne."
Seeing her aggressive gaze, William felt uneasy. "She's the princess of Highgarden—you'd better not get reckless."
Nymeria's expression grew subtle and complex. "I only want to bring her joy, just as I bring it to you, while you only want to possess her."
"I can only think about it," William said, tossing the dagger back to her. "She can't be with me."
"Does it matter? We seek only today's joy, why care for tomorrow's worries!" Nymeria caught the dagger, flipped her wrist, and vanished. "Shall we compete again, and see who wins a kiss this time?"
"What good is momentary joy? All that remains is regret," William said seriously. "I prefer to make my future self happy rather than indulge the present."
Nymeria laughed softly. "I think the two aren't in conflict. If you forfeit… hehe, that's fine too."
With that, Nymeria kicked her horse toward the procession. William had no choice but to follow. From a distance, he saw her reach Margaery's wheel palace. After a brief conversation with those inside, the palace stopped, the ladder lowered, and Nymeria dismounted, handing the reins to a servant. She climbed the ladder and, at the door, turned to give William a mysterious smile.
Watching the wheel palace slowly move, William's unease grew stronger.
At dusk, the procession stopped to make camp and prepare dinner.
The three Tyrell girls at the front of the wheel palace saw William approaching and giggled as they walked away; Nymeria, however, stuck close to Margaery. Fortunately, all three were skilled in conversation, and even their awkward small talk, each with their own intentions, flowed smoothly.
William secretly gave Margaery a look, and she returned one that said, "What can I do? I'm just as helpless."
Taking advantage of a moment when Margaery stepped away, William quickly leaned close to Nymeria and gritted his teeth, "This isn't fair! You can ride with her while we travel, but you can't cling to her when we rest."
"Hmph, don't you want your future self to be happy?"
"Don't you also think the two aren't in conflict?"
"Fine, I can give it to you during rest," Nymeria said with a sly smile, lowering her voice, "Come find me tonight… There will be a lot of present-day joy."
William couldn't help swallowing hard. Seeing Margaery approaching with light, graceful steps, he quickly sat up straighter.
After a lavish dinner came the usual formalities. As night fell, William and Margaery finally found a moment alone. They watched the last rays of the sun swallowed by the darkness, the moon hazy, the stars sparse.
The two stood in front of the wheel palace, alone. A short distance away, a fire crackled with three Tyrell girls and a few other girls sitting quietly around it, whispering to one another.
The camp was lively, laughter and chatter drifting from all directions. Long shadows occasionally stretched across the ground, and the two of them flickered in the dim light.
Margaery hummed softly, "What did you say to Lady Nymeria?"
William had expected this question and replied casually, "Just a few words of small talk."
"She wants something—do you think I don't know?" Margaery's tone sharpened. "She leaves as she pleases, yet she listens to you so well."
So little Rose was resistant to Nymeria? William felt not alarmed, but pleased. "Ahem, Lady Nymeria's preferences are a bit unusual, but that's her personal privacy; we shouldn't blame her."
"Blame her?" Margaery couldn't help but laugh. "I'm not blaming her, and I actually like her very much."
"Ah?"