Conflict

Garon's lips curled into a playful smirk as he stared at the furious Theon.

From the very beginning, his goal had been to provoke Theon.

Since I gave my word to Ned, I cannot be the one to strike first.

If Ned finds out, it will only displease him, and that would create unnecessary complications for the betrothal.

If Theon makes the first move and I am forced to retaliate, that is an entirely different matter.

I might even be able to use this to drive a wedge between Robb and Theon.

As Ned's ward and a close friend who grew up alongside Robb, Theon held significant influence over him.

And this influence was something Garon could not tolerate.

Power is like real estate; location is everything.

Allowing someone destined to be an enemy to stand by Robb's side would only bring Garon endless trouble.

I must force Theon away from Robb's side before the War of the Five Kings begins.

Only when Robb realizes that an Ironborn is an Ironborn, even in Theon's case, will I be able to convince him to let me stay behind to guard against the Iron Islands during the war.

In Garon's view, Theon's only purpose was to return to the Iron Islands and lure Balon into raiding the North, just as in the original story.

When that time came, he could seize the opportunity to turn the tide, leading his army to crush the raiding Ironborn once and for all.

In doing so, Garon would not only secure Deepwood Motte but also win the support of the other Northern houses.

It was a plan that killed two birds with one stone.

However, it seems Theon has no intention of making a move.

Garon's gaze deepened as he looked at Theon's right hand, which was tightly gripping his sword hilt. Seeing that he hesitated to draw his blade, Garon knew that Theon had not yet been completely blinded by rage.

Should I provoke him a little more?

As he turned the thought over in his mind and prepared to speak, a voice as deep and resonant as a bell rang out from behind him.

"What is everyone gathered here for?"

Garon turned to look at the source of the sound and saw a short, stout, elderly knight with white hair striding toward them with his chest puffed out.

It was none other than the master-at-arms of Winterfell—

Ser Rodrik Cassel!

As if he hadn't noticed the tense, sword-drawn atmosphere, he sternly scolded the crowd.

"The King is about to arrive at Winterfell, and everyone is busy with preparations."

"Do you still have the leisure to stand here daydreaming?"

"Get moving, all of you!"

The onlookers scattered in an instant, and Arya slipped away with them.

She needed to hurry back and tell Sansa about what had happened between Garon and Theon.

The training yard was suddenly left with only Garon, the Robb brothers, Ser Rodrik, and a conflicted Theon.

After dispersing the others, Ser Rodrik shifted his gaze to Theon, offering him a way out.

"Theon, don't just stand there idle."

"Lady Catelyn is short on hands; go to the main keep and help out."

Theon, who had been frozen in place, let out a sigh of relief.

Facing the burly Garon, he appeared angry, but he felt immense pressure deep down.

If he drew his sword and fought, it would be fine if he won, but if he lost, he would be utterly humiliated.

Seeing that Ser Rodrik had provided a graceful exit, Theon nodded gratefully and turned to walk quickly toward the main keep.

However, as he left, he couldn't help but cast a resentful, jealous glare at Garon.

This scene did not escape Robb's notice, and a hint of misgiving stirred in his heart.

But Robb quickly adjusted his emotions and smiled as he introduced Ser Rodrik to Garon.

"Garon, this is Ser Rodrik, the master-at-arms of Winterfell."

"Both Jon and I were taught our swordsmanship by him."

Garon glanced at the departing Theon, feeling a sense of regret that he hadn't managed to provoke him.

There is plenty of time; I will find a suitable opportunity later...

With that thought, Garon looked at Ser Rodrik and gave a slight bow in greeting: "Good day, Ser Rodrik."

Ser Rodrik's expression was solemn as he replied politely: "Good day, Lord Garon!"

Once Theon was out of earshot, he added apologetically: "Lord Garon, I hope you will not take what just happened to heart."

"Theon's personality is a bit difficult to get along with, but it's not out of a desire to provoke."

As Theon's master-at-arms, Rodrik had spent many years with him and knew well that aside from a foul temper, there were no major issues with the boy.

At his core, he was still a good person.

That was why Ser Rodrik spoke up to offer a bit of an explanation for Theon.

Garon shook his head and said, "Perhaps, but he and I are unlikely to ever get along."

He knew far more about Theon's character and conduct than Ser Rodrik did.

As a sacrifice for his father Balon's failed rebellion, Theon had been sent to Winterfell at the age of ten.

In name, he was Ned Stark's ward, but in reality, he was a hostage.

Yet, Theon was also fortunate.

His foster father, Ned, was a lord who upheld honor and justice, and he never held any prejudice against Theon because of his status.

Instead, he raised him with care, even letting his own children treat him as a brother.

And precisely because of this.

Theon, who often boasted of being the heir to the Iron Islands, had always craved the recognition and acceptance of the Starks.

But things always went against his wishes.

During the War of the Five Kings, he had originally intended to return to the Iron Islands to bring reinforcements for Robb, but a few words from Balon easily swayed his stance.

He chose to give up when he shouldn't have, and went to capture Winterfell when he shouldn't have returned.

This led to him being captured by Ramsay Snow and suffering inhuman torture.

One wrong step led to another.

In the end, even when Theon, who had become Reek, wanted to turn back, he no longer had the chance.

Of course, Ser Rodrik would naturally know nothing of these things.

But having lived in Winterfell for so long, he was well aware of the grudge between the Glovers and the Iron Islands.

So, seeing Garon speak this way, Ser Rodrik knew it would be difficult to reconcile the two.

He stroked his beard, sighed inwardly, and turned to instruct Robb.

"Lord Robb, please take good care of our guest."

"Winterfell is busy enough as it is; let's have no more incidents that shouldn't happen."

Robb nodded gloomily. The events had unfolded so quickly that he hadn't even had time to react before the two were at each other's throats.

Had Ser Rodrik not appeared in time, he truly wouldn't have known what to do, given the relationship between the three.

Seeing this, Rodrik found it difficult to say anything more.

He patted Robb on the shoulder and then, using the excuse of needing help, took Jon and left the training yard.

After the two had left, Robb forced himself to perk up and said, "Garon, let me take you to meet Sansa and Arya."

"Bran, you stay here and look after Rickon."

Bran took Rickon's hand and nodded obediently.

Robb ruffled Rickon's hair, told him not to wander off, and then led Garon away from the training yard and further inside.

On the other side.

Arya, who had snuck back to the sewing room, poked her head in at the door and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Septa Mordane was not there.

"Sansa, Sansa!"

She burst into the room excitedly, skipping all the way to stand before Sansa.

Sansa ignored Arya.

She sat there quietly, holding a fine needle to continue her needlework without even lifting her head.

Seeing that Sansa wouldn't acknowledge her, Arya rolled her eyes and smiled at Beth Cassel nearby, "Beth, guess what I just saw?"

Beth blinked, "Did you steal Bran's thunder with your archery again?"

Immediately, Jeyne Poole, sitting to Beth's right, covered her mouth and giggled.

"Of course not, I saw Garon, Garon Glover!"

"Sansa's betrothed!"

"He was just having a confrontation with Theon!"

The previously calm Sansa felt a sudden panic in her heart the moment she heard Garon's name.

The needle she had been handling with ease slipped and pricked her finger in her distraction.

But she had no time to mind the wound; she looked up at Arya in a daze, a flicker of fluster in her eyes.

"He... he is here?"