Gift

"Garon, you shouldn't have ignored him just now."

Walking down the corridor, Robb led the way while attempting to mediate between the two, much like Ser Rodrik would.

"Theon is just..."

Robb came to a sudden halt, turned to look at Garon, and explained, "Theon just has a bit more pride and a deep desire for recognition."

"Believe me, his temper is a bit rough."

"But if you spend some time with him, you will surely be able to become friends."

However, Garon stood his ground and shook his head slightly, saying, "On that point, please forgive me, but I cannot do it!"

Robb was puzzled upon hearing this.

He frowned and pressed, "Why?"

There was a hint of dissatisfaction in Robb's tone; clearly, he was already weary of the conflict between the two.

He had not expected that a small matter arranged by his father would be something he nearly botched himself.

If the two had truly drawn their swords, regardless of who won or lost, someone would have ended up bleeding.

Robb did not want to disappoint his father, Ned, because of this incident.

"Garon, you clearly made a promise to my father. Why can't you take a step back?"

He stared intently at Garon, wanting to get an answer from him.

Garon sensed the discomfort in Robb's heart and thought to himself.

This is troublesome. If I don't answer this well, I fear he will hold a grudge against me!

However, he blinked, and a retort quickly came to mind.

Garon put on a sincere expression and apologized to Robb.

"I'm sorry, Robb."

"I was too impulsive just now, making it difficult for you to be caught in the middle."

"As for why I won't back down..."

Garon paused, successfully capturing Robb's attentive gaze, "Because the North remembers!"

He took a breath and explained solemnly, "Robb, you are right. I did promise Lord Ned that I would not provoke anyone."

"But that does not mean I should blindly retreat."

"When it concerns the honor of my house, even if I must retreat, I cannot do so without bottom lines!"

"I am a Glover, a Glover with roots cast in blood!"

"If even an Ironborn can insult me within Winterfell, then what face would I have to marry Lady Sansa?"

Robb was somewhat stunned; he had not expected Garon to elevate the issue to the level of a confrontation between two houses.

But just as he was about to say something, memories from half a year ago began to resurface in his mind.

Robb recalled that when Ned took him to attend Galbart's funeral, he had introduced the situation at Deepwood Motte and specifically warned him not to mention the Iron Islands.

It was just that after returning to Winterfell, he had been so busy with affairs that he had temporarily forgotten.

Recalling this, Robb realized in an instant that he had made a grave mistake.

"So that's how it is..."

"No wonder Father specifically warned Garon."

"Sigh, how could I have forgotten?"

Seeing the changes in Robb's expression, Garon knew he didn't need to continue clarifying the relationship, so he turned and comforted him with a smile.

"Don't worry, Robb. I am only staying in Winterfell for a few days."

"During these days, I will try my best to avoid him so as not to cause trouble for you and Lord Ned."

Garon's words made Robb shake his head helplessly.

He had completely abandoned the idea of making the two reconcile.

Robb gave a bitter smile and said to Garon, "There is no need to avoid him; I will make sure Theon exercises some restraint."

"Forget it, let's not talk about this. I should take you to see Sansa."

After saying this, he turned and continued walking along the corridor.

However, he hadn't taken two steps before he heard Garon call out to him from behind.

"Robb, wait a moment."

"Before we go to see Lady Sansa, I need to retrieve the gift I prepared."

Garon waved to a passing servant, instructed him to find his captain of the guard, Roger, in the kitchen, and told him to bring over the gift he had prepared for Lady Sansa.

"What kind of gift did you prepare for Sansa?"

Once the servant had left, Robb asked with some curiosity.

Garon, however, gave a mysterious smile, keeping him in suspense as he said.

"You'll know in a moment."

"I guarantee it's something you've never seen or heard of before!"

These words immediately piqued Robb's curiosity.

About the time it takes to drink a cup of tea later.

Garon's captain of the guard, Roger, hurried over, holding a box wrapped in silk.

"Lord Garon, the gift you requested."

Garon nodded, reached out to take the box from Roger, and smiled at Robb.

"Let's go, you can take me to see Lady Sansa now!"

Robb cast a curious glance at the silk-wrapped box, guessing from its size that it could only hold some hair accessories or a necklace.

He tentatively asked: "This isn't filled with jewelry, is it?"

But Garon just smiled without answering, turning to wave at Roger to signal that he could return to his duties.

After Roger left, Robb managed to suppress his curiosity and led Garon toward the room where Sansa practiced her embroidery.

After winding through the twists and turns of the castle, the two arrived at the door of the room.

At this moment, inside the room.

Septa Mordane was inspecting the girls' embroidery, occasionally comparing Arya and Sansa, which drew a burst of restrained giggles from the young ladies.

Garon peeked inside, noticing Sansa Stark with her auburn hair, head turned to look out the window, at a single glance.

Her face wore a sorrowful expression, and there was no telling what she was thinking about.

"Sansa!"

Robb called out softly from the side, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

The moment Arya saw Robb, she noticed Garon standing beside him.

She couldn't help but jump up and shout: "Garon! That's Garon Glover!"

In an instant.

Beth Cassel and Jeyne Poole both cast their gazes toward Garon, and even Sansa couldn't help but look at him.

Seeing this.

Garon held the silk-wrapped wooden box and stepped forward confidently, letting the girls in the room look their fill.

He smiled and bowed to greet the girls in the room, then added.

"I wonder if my appearance meets with your approval, ladies?"

His humorous tone instantly made Beth and Jeyne cover their mouths and giggle.

Even Sansa, who had been dreading the prospect of having a fiancé, felt her mood relax significantly.

She quietly studied Garon—

He had the brown-black hair typical of House Glover, red eyes, and a physique that was indeed as burly and tall as Arya had described, yet she didn't feel a hint of clumsiness; instead, it gave her an impression of rugged capability.

His facial features were regular, neither as ugly nor as handsome as Sansa had imagined, but possessed the rough-hewn quality unique to the North.

At a glance, his burly, heroic bearing was surprisingly reassuring.

Arya was lying to me again, he looks nothing like an ugly bear.

Although he was still far from the prince she had imagined, at least he wasn't the giant bear Arya had depicted.

Heaven knows how much mental torture she had endured ever since Arya returned and described Garon's appearance.

Sansa gave Arya a subtle glare, then rose in a very ladylike manner.

"Good day, Lord Garon!"

"Welcome to Winterfell!"

Garon smiled and stepped forward two paces, "Good day, Lady Sansa!"

"A small gift, please accept it!"

With that, he reached out and handed over the gift he was holding.

Sansa looked hesitantly at Robb, who nodded slightly at her from the doorway, and only then did she take the gift and place it on the table nearby.

"What is this?"

She asked softly.

Garon smiled: "Lady Sansa, why not open it and see?"

She lifted the silk, revealing a wooden box with a blue and white checkered pattern on the surface.

She touched the texture on top, feeling a sense of refinement.

"Huh..."

Sansa looked at the lock on the wooden box and was surprised to find it was crafted from pure gold, which couldn't help but make her look forward to the gift inside.

Could it be a beautiful piece of jewelry in the box?

She couldn't help but think to herself.

But when she opened the wooden box, she discovered that it didn't contain jewelry, but rather exquisite chess pieces carved out of wood.

The thirty-two pieces were divided into black and white, clearly distinguished from one another.

With her expectations dashed, Sansa was immediately disappointed.

"Mother was right, Deepwood Motte really is so poor that all they have left is wood!"

Garon keenly sensed Sansa's disappointment, and he let out a soft chuckle, drawing her gaze toward him.

"Lady Sansa, please allow me to introduce this gift to you."

"Westeros Chess!"