The crackle of burning firewood echoed softly through the great hall.
Lord Selwyn Tarth sat beside the hearth, his gaze fixed on his son. Garon stood nearby, stretching his hands toward the flames, his small frame still wrapped in thick wool.
"Claude," Selwyn said suddenly, without looking away, "take Brienne to the kitchen."
The butler hesitated for only a moment before nodding. Whatever Garon had said earlier had clearly weighed heavily on the lord's mind.
"Yes, my lord."
Brienne was reluctant to leave her brother, but the promise of food quickly won her over. Claude lifted her into his arms and carried her away.
Once they were alone, Selwyn turned to Garon, his expression serious.
"Garon," he said slowly, "what did you mean earlier?"
Garon thought for a moment, then answered carefully.
"Father, after I killed that man today… the Maiden of Justice reacted. It felt… pleased."
Selwyn's eyes widened.
"What?"
"My strength increased," Garon continued. "Not by much, but it was obvious."
He revealed only part of the truth. Selwyn was his father, his natural protector, and the Lord of Tarth. Letting him know some of the sword's power would make planning far easier.
Selwyn fell silent, his chest rising and falling.
"You're certain you're not mistaken?"
"Father," Garon said calmly, "I would never joke about something like this."
A long pause followed.
Finally, Selwyn exhaled.
"If this is true…" he murmured.
The holy sword Maiden of Justice had been bestowed upon Morning Light Garon by the Seven themselves. If it truly rewarded judgment, then—
House Tarth might finally rise again.
"Come with me after dinner," Selwyn said decisively.
Garon blinked. "Tonight?"
"Yes," Selwyn replied. "We'll verify it."
Garon understood immediately where his father intended to take him.
After dinner, Selwyn dismissed the servants and ordered Brienne's nurse to take her to bed. With torches in hand, father and son walked toward the southeastern tower of Duskfall Hall.
Claude watched them go, confusion written on his face.
"My lord, where are you going so late?"
"I have matters to attend to with my son," Selwyn replied. "Bring me two torches."
Claude obeyed without question.
Garon silently approved. His father trusted people sparingly, and for good reason.
Beneath the tower lay the dungeon.
The guards saluted as Selwyn descended the spiral stone steps with Garon at his side. The air grew colder with each step.
At the bottom, a long corridor stretched ahead, lit by flickering torches.
A tall, thin man with one blind eye emerged from a side chamber. His hair was greasy and unkempt, his gray robe stained with age and wine.
"Lord Selwyn," he said, surprised. "Why are you here so late?"
Then he noticed Garon.
"My lord, this place isn't fit for a child."
"Moken," Selwyn said evenly, "Garon is stronger than you think."
Garon greeted him politely. "Uncle Moken."
Moken was a distant relative of House Tarth. Years ago, pirates had killed his wife, costing him an eye in the battle that followed. Since then, he had become the keeper of the dungeon, finding grim comfort in his work.
"Moken," Selwyn said, "bring me the stowaway from Tyrosh arrested two days ago. And Fisher — the man who murdered the Grisha family. Bind them tightly."
Moken raised an eyebrow but nodded. He knew better than to ask questions.
Soon, the two prisoners were dragged forward.
One was a pale, trembling foreigner. The other, Fisher, glared defiantly despite his chains.
Selwyn gestured for Moken to step away.
Garon drew the Maiden of Justice.
The blade's green-blue glow illuminated the dungeon walls.
Without hesitation, Garon stepped forward and swung.
The stowaway's head fell cleanly to the floor, the wound charred, no blood spilling.
Garon immediately checked his panel.
Nothing.
Judgment Points: 0.
Selwyn watched closely. "Again."
Garon turned to Fisher.
"In the name of the Morning Light," he said quietly, "I sentence you to death."
The sword fell.
Fisher's body collapsed.
This time, when Garon checked the panel, the numbers changed.
Judgment Points: 3.
Garon's heart surged with excitement.
So it only judged true criminals.
Selwyn saw the change in his son's expression and smiled grimly.
"I'll bring you here again," he said. "We'll learn its rules."
The next morning, Garon studied as usual under Maester Ronnel, with Brienne sitting nearby, quietly flipping through picture books.
In the afternoon, he trained with Sir Goodwin in swordsmanship and archery. His archery improved noticeably.
Archery: 8%.
Progress.
That evening, Selwyn brought him back to the dungeon.
This time, two more criminals were selected.
When Garon struck down the woman who had abused her stepdaughter, the panel updated again.
Judgment Points increased.
The system was real.
Controlled.
And powerful.
As they returned to Duskfall Hall, Selwyn rested a hand on Garon's shoulder.
"Whatever path you walk," he said quietly, "you will not walk it alone."
Garon nodded.
House Tarth's dawn had begun.