Confirming the Engagement

Garon stood in the dueling arena, his blood-stained sword in hand.

His sharp, crimson eyes swept slowly across the crowd; the vassals and knights brought by the king all recoiled, not daring to meet his gaze.

The old acquaintances from Winterfell were stunned, still unable to believe their own eyes.

Garon stood tall like a tiger, declaring, "It seems the gods still favor me!"

As his words landed, the crowd finally snapped out of their stupor.

Robert looked excited, his body suddenly rising as he looked at Garon with eyes that even held a hint of eagerness to join the fray.

He strode from the high platform to Garon's side and laughed wildly, "Well done, Garon!"

"I never expected that at such a young age, your swordsmanship would be so outstanding!" Robert's eyes were filled with surprise as he glanced at Meryn, who still lay in a pool of blood. "Ser Meryn has guarded me for many years; I never thought he would be defeated by you so effortlessly."

"But to die in a Trial by Combat, one could say he died with honor!"

With a wave of his hand, the nearby attendants hurried forward to carry away the corpse of Meryn Trant.

Robert took a deep breath, surveyed the surroundings, and announced the result of the Trial by Combat to everyone.

"In the name of Robert Baratheon the First, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, I hereby declare:"

"Garon Glover, Lord of Deepwood Motte, has emerged victorious in this Trial by Combat and has won the betrothal to Sansa Stark, daughter of the Warden of the North."

"Their engagement shall be witnessed by the gods and by me!"

The hall erupted in a unified cheer—

Garon! Garon! Garon!

The deafening sound was enough to nearly blow the roof off the Great Hall of Winterfell.

From this day on, Sansa Stark truly belongs to me, and no one can stop it!

Garon, filled with pride and satisfaction, couldn't help but look at Sansa in the crowd.

Sansa shyly covered her mouth, looking at Garon with eyes full of adoration.

She never expected Garon to actually keep his word, and to do it through a Trial by Combat, no less!

This was even more legendary than a prince marrying a princess in a storybook.

Ned wore a smile and summoned his servants, ordering them to prepare more food and fine wine.

The banquet was far from over.

When the feast resumed, King Robert raised his goblet and shouted loudly, "To Garon!"

"To Garon!"

Inside the hall, everyone raised their cups in unison to respond.

Garon smiled and raised his cup as well, draining the wine in one gulp.

Once the attendant refilled it, Garon, in high spirits, raised his cup again and shouted, "To the King! To Lord Ned!"

The crowd raised their cups once more in celebration.

The atmosphere in the hall grew even more fervent; everyone wanted to step forward to drink with Garon, and no one spared a thought for the recently deceased Meryn Trant.

This was the very charm of a Trial by Combat.

Once you win, you earn the respect of everyone.

As for the loser, no one cares.

Only Joffrey, while jealously watching Garon bask in the limelight, cursed Meryn Trant incessantly in his heart.

"Useless!"

"Meryn, you piece of trash, you couldn't even beat a minor lord from Deepwood Motte!"

"You've made me lose face!"

Having been treated like the center of the universe since childhood, he had never been so ignored.

He turned his head toward the high platform, wanting to seek comfort from Cersei, only to find that even she was looking at Garon with eyes full of admiration.

As for Catelyn, who stood to the side, she was dejected, forcing a smile as she watched it all.

She never imagined that Garon could break the situation like this.

Now that the gods had rendered their verdict, even she could not hope to change the engagement between Garon and Sansa.

Seeing that neither of them was looking at him, Joffrey stomped his feet in anger, cursed, and pushed through the crowd to leave the hall.

But Garon had no time to worry about Joffrey's reaction.

He was pulled to Robert's side, constantly accepting toasts from others.

After seven or eight cups, Ned couldn't bear to watch any longer and stepped in to help him out.

Robert, fueled by the wine and lacking any kingly airs, draped an arm over Garon's shoulder and laughed.

"Ned will soon be heading south to King's Landing with me, and I will host a grand tournament for him then."

"With your strength, you will surely defeat the knights of the south and take the top prize!"

"Garon, how about you head south with me?"

Garon smiled and politely declined: "How could I refuse an invitation from Your Majesty?"

"It is just that I have only recently taken up my position as a lord, and I cannot depart immediately. I hope Your Majesty will grant me a few months."

With only a few months left before Robert was gored to death by a boar, and with Ned soon to be imprisoned in King's Landing, the major events were about to begin. How could Garon possibly leave The North for King's Landing at a time like this?

Upon hearing this, Robert was not disappointed.

In any case, with him around, there would be plenty of tournaments, and there would be no shortage of opportunities to witness Garon's brilliance in the future.

He sighed: "With your courage, loyalty, and strength, you are more than qualified to join the Kingsguard!"

"It is a pity, though..."

At this moment, Jaime raised his wine cup and squeezed his way over, teasing: "Your Majesty, our victor has just won a betrothal; you wouldn't want him to join the Kingsguard, would you?"

"If you did that, I fear our Lord Hand would be quite annoyed!"

Ned, standing to the side, cast a look of disgust at Jaime.

Robert was also somewhat put off, glaring at him with dissatisfaction.

Jaime, however, shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly: "Your Majesty, I wonder if I might have a few words alone with the victor?"

"What are you planning to do?"

Ned could not help but demand.

"Rest assured, I would never harm the Lord Hand's future son-in-law, especially when he is so formidable."

Jaime chuckled, though his eyes remained calm: "I simply wish to exchange a few words with him!"

Seeing this, Garon smiled: "It would be my honor!"

Seeing that Garon had agreed, Robert released him.

Garon nodded slightly to the King and Ned, then followed Jaime toward a secluded corner of the hall.

Once they were away from the crowd, Jaime finally stopped.

"After this Trial by Combat, your name will soon be known throughout The Seven Kingdoms."

"There will even be people singing songs of your deeds."

"But Garon..."

The smile on Jaime's face faded, and he said coldly: "The Kingsguard is by no means filled with useless sacks of wine like Meryn."

"If I ever find out that you dare to trample upon the honor of the Kingsguard, I will never forgive you!"

Garon was somewhat surprised; he had not expected Jaime to pull him aside just to say this.

Nevertheless, he shook his head and replied: "The Kingsguard is the King's personal guard. I have nothing but respect for it, so why would I ever trample upon it?"

Jaime stared at Garon for a long moment before finally saying: "See that you do."

Having said his piece, he intended to leave, but Garon did not want to let him walk away after being lectured.

"Earlier this afternoon, Ser asked me a question, so I would like to ask Ser a question in return."

Jaime halted his steps, his eyes flickering: "Oh? And what would you like to ask?"

"I heard that Ser donned the white cloak and became a member of the Kingsguard at the age of fifteen," Garon said with a faint, mocking smile, returning the favor in kind. "I wonder, is the sword in your heart still sharp?"

The arrogant, fake smile on Jaime's face froze instantly.

He stared coldly at Garon: "What is your meaning?"

"Nothing in particular," Garon smiled, his eyes piercing and captivating. "I simply wanted to ask, is it fun for Ser to play house with a bunch of useless sacks of wine?"

"Your sword is wailing!"

Jaime laughed in a fit of rage, instinctively reaching for the sword at his waist to show the boy before him whether his sword was wailing or not.

However, because he was attending a banquet, his sword had been left in his bedchamber, and his hand grasped at empty air.

"Ser, if you wish to spar with me, I am always happy to oblige!"

Seeing that he had successfully provoked Jaime into a rage, Garon stopped goading him, left those words behind, and walked straight past him.

Jaime remained where he stood, fuming, while Garon, having not walked far, was already surrounded by Robb and the others.

"Garon, what did the Kingslayer say to you?"

Robb asked out of curiosity.

Garon laughed: "He just wanted to spar with me in swordsmanship."

Upon hearing this, they became even more excited.

"Really? Truly?"

"If Garon defeats the Kingslayer again, wouldn't that make him the greatest swordsman in The Seven Kingdoms?"

Arya's eyes darted about, her expression filled with excitement and admiration.

She circled around Garon, constantly begging him to teach her his swordsmanship.

Sansa had originally wanted to say a few words to Garon, but under the verbal onslaught from Arya, she simply couldn't get a word in.

In the end, Sansa grew exasperated and dragged Arya away directly.

The two girls bickered as they shoved each other, a sight that made Robb shake his head with a wry smile.

Garon laughed heartily and pulled him along to find Jon.

On the way, he exchanged a brief glance with Roger, who had just returned, knowing that he had already taken care of the matter.

Thus, Garon threw himself into the banquet with abandon and was soon thoroughly drunk.

And so, the evening banquet drew to a close.