Inside Highgarden, flower baskets and garlands seemed to bloom from every stone. Every archway was draped with fresh cuttings, and singers and poets filled every garden, their voices mingling with the scent of roses.
Even the maids and servants were dressed in their finest. The soldiers stationed at the gates wore bright red doublets—at first glance, they looked more like lost lordlings than guards, were it not for the golden rose emblazoned on their chests.
Not far outside the castle walls, carriages rolled out at regular intervals, trailed by gaggles of cheering children as passengers tossed handfuls of hard candy into the dirt.
For his only daughter's wedding, Mace Tyrell had unleashed his love for extravagance. If he could, he probably would have rolled the red carpet all the way from the Great Hall to the castle gates.
Though Jon hadn't yet entered the city proper, his eyes were already there. A murder of crows circled above, acting as his scouts.
Because he had arrived relatively late, most of the Reach's nobility were already in attendance.
The stalwarts—House Hightower, House Redwyne, House Tarly—were naturally present. But the wealth of the Reach was on full display: the Rowans of Goldengrove, the Fossoways of Cider Hall, the Beesburys of Honeyholt, the Mullendores of Uplands, the Costaynes of Three Towers, the Cuys of Sunhouse, the Merryweathers of Longtable... rich families flocked to Highgarden like bees to a blossom.
Queen Selyse was also there, standing prominently to represent House Florent.
Apart from the Reach lords, Jon spotted the Direwolf banner of Winterfell. Catelyn must have arrived to represent House Stark. And if Catelyn was here, the Freys wouldn't be far behind.
Jon even spotted the plowman sigil of House Darry amidst the sea of colorful banners. Lyman Darry must have made the trip as well.
Suddenly, Jon's gaze snagged on a banner piercing the sun with a spear—House Martell.
Jon figured they must have received news of the Mountain's death shortly after it happened. After receiving such a "heavy gift" as Amory Lorch, it was impossible for them to stay in Sunspear without making a gesture.
Sure enough, through the eyes of a raven, Jon spotted a man in a garden. He looked to be about thirty, with dark hair and olive skin.
His style of dress was distinct from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, and a spear and sun were embroidered on his chest.
At this moment, he was flirting with a woman of similar age, his hands wandering restlessly. Judging by his attire and demeanor, this had to be Oberyn Martell.
Unfortunately, Jon still couldn't find any trace of Euron.
He was likely indoors. Jon couldn't exactly fly a raven into the Great Hall without causing a scene. Although Jon was ninety percent sure the "adventurer" who gave Mace the dragon egg was Euron, he couldn't be absolutely certain.
This was the real reason he hadn't told Willas immediately.
Jon's thoughts shifted, and the interface of his system materialized before his eyes:
[Sword Saint]: Red
[Archery]: Purple
[Riding]: Blue
[God's Perspective]: Gold
[Skinchanger]: Purple
[Unburnt]: White
[Great Strength]: Blue
Remaining Upgrades: 3
I need crowd control. I need to see everything.
Realizing this, Jon dumped an upgrade into [God's Perspective]. The gold text shimmered and turned a deep crimson. With the color change came an evolution in the ability itself—[Divine Vision].
[Divine Vision]: Whether looking down from the heavens or peering into the hearts of men, all conspiracies shall have nowhere to hide.
Jon felt the power of the top-tier trait wash over him. First, his sensory range expanded to thirty miles. In this era, a thirty-mile radius was enough to command a naval battle with god-like precision.
But as a top-tier trait, it wasn't just a numerical increase. Jon found he could contract his field of view to see things in terrifying detail.
When he narrowed his focus to within a mile, the world sharpened. It wasn't just visual clarity; he could sense the momentum of everything around him.
The trajectory of a carriage, the subtle shift of a person's weight, even the drift of a falling leaf—he could predict it all.
The more he narrowed the range, the more pronounced this predictive ability became.
When Jon pulled his focus into a tight three-hundred-yard radius, the vision shifted again.
This time, he wasn't seeing movement, but essence.
He looked at Willas and saw a gentle, steady green aura radiating from behind him.
Jon looked at himself. A golden-red light surrounded him. Ghost, and even the ravens he controlled, emitted a faint golden-red glow.
Perfect. I'll be able to see if Euron has any accomplices. If he's alone, I'll stick to the plan and take him down.
No matter how well he disguised himself, he couldn't hide from this.
---
Meanwhile, inside Highgarden's "Green Hand Hall," Queen Selyse looked at the banners on the wall with grim satisfaction.
She had hung the fox-and-flowers of House Florent at the same height as Stannis's flaming heart stag. To their sides, lower down, were the golden rose and the white wolf.
It was a blatant power move, putting the host beneath the guest, but Selyse took great pleasure in seeing the Florent banner finally towering over the Tyrells. The Florents had always believed they had the stronger claim to Highgarden by blood, and that they were the rightful Lords of the Reach.
Unfortunately, they never understood that the Tyrells were the pillars of the South because Aegon the Conqueror said they were.
Just as Stannis had made Jon the Warden of the West.
Selyse scanned the flower-filled hall and quickly realized that her little corner was not the center of attention.
Mace's booming laughter echoed from across the room. Catelyn Stark, the mother of the King in the North, was chatting happily with Alerie Tyrell. And the "Queen of Thorns," Olenna Tyrell, was practically holding court, surrounded by a constant stream of young nobles.
Not only was she highborn, but she was ancient. Many people just wanted to talk to her for the luck of a long life.
The social gravity of the room still pulled everyone toward the Tyrells. Selyse, the Queen, was treated like a statue in a sept—respected from a distance, but cold and unapproachable. This displeased her greatly.
Then, she noticed the rumored "Adventurer."
A crowd had gathered around him, mostly young noble sons peppering him with questions about the ruins of Valyria.
A commoner, just knighted by Mace, was receiving more attention than the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.
These young men were hungry for glory. With the West pacified, there were no wars left to fight in the Seven Kingdoms.
But there was another path: adventure. To brave the Free Cities, to explore Valyria.
If they could bring back a Valyrian artifact or a blade of Valyrian steel, they would become legends, the pride of their families.
Think of Tywin's brother, who vanished in Valyria. Many had initially hoped to convince this adventurer to guide them, but he had firmly refused to return to that hellscape. So, they settled for extracting as much information from him as possible.
"Bring that adventurer here. I wish to speak with him," Selyse ordered her attendant.
The man was Alekyne Florent, the son and heir of Alester Florent. He was about forty and currently acting as the Castellan of Brightwater Keep.
Alekyne passed the order to his cousin, Colin.
Colin, who was chatting nearby, passed the order to his youngest son, Merrell.
Merrell looked around, realized he didn't have a servant to pass the buck to, and unhurriedly made his way toward Euron.
But just as he was halfway there, Garlan Tyrell suddenly "killed" his way out of the crowd. His target was also Euron.
Merrell panicked. He quickened his pace, but Garlan, tall and long-legged, reached the "Adventurer" first.
Young Merrell stood there, at a loss. He looked back at his father, Colin.
Colin frowned and signaled him to be bold. Go! We aren't Tyrell bannermen anymore. The Queen is a Florent!
But seeing Garlan already deep in conversation with the man, Colin had to step in himself.
"Ser Garlan, Her Grace the Queen—"
"But my grandmother—"
Voices were raised. In Garlan's mind, the heavens were high, the earth was wide, but his grandmother was the biggest of all. Queen? Who's that?
Realizing the situation was spiraling, Colin tried to argue, but Garlan wouldn't budge. The dispute began to draw eyes.
The young nobles stepped back, ready to watch a good show.
Alekyne, standing next to Selyse, couldn't understand it. How hard was it to fetch one man? And that Garlan—he had no manners!
It was the Queen who wanted to see him!
Selyse's face had turned stone-cold. Her thin lips were pressed into a vanishingly thin line. She had wanted to bring the social center of the room to her by summoning the adventurer. Instead, she was about to be publicly embarrassed.
Should she demand he come?
Half the hall was watching. Making a scene would only lower her standing.
Just as Selyse was freezing up, unsure of her next move, she saw Olenna Tyrell walking toward her.
With her came a massive entourage and the attention of the entire hall.
Faced with this sudden wave of focus, Selyse, who had been desperate for it moments ago, felt suddenly out of her depth.
"Your Grace," Olenna said, curtsying slightly. "I asked Garlan to fetch our adventurer friend. Please, do not blame him."
She took all the responsibility onto herself, setting the tone.
"It... it is no matter," Selyse stammered. Seeing the legendary Queen of Thorns bow to her made her even more uncomfortable.
I am the Queen. I am the Queen. This is proper. This is right, Selyse chanted internally, trying to bolster her courage.
"It seems everyone is interested in Ser Eron," Olenna suggested. "Since that is the case, why don't we save the best for last? Later, we can have the adventurer tell us all a tale of Valyria together."
"That would be... best," Selyse nodded stiffly.
Just then, the herald's voice rang out from the entrance—
"The Warden of the West, Duke of Casterly Rock, Jon Stark has arrived!"