The westering sunlight, thick as honey, slowly flowed through the vast forest, dyeing the surrounding area a magnificent amber.
The veins stood out on the backs of Ser Balon's hands as he gripped his bow. He answered the king, "As you command!"
The young knight's fervent voice echoed through the silent woods.
Gryn raised a hand to stop Ser Balon, who looked eager to spur his horse away at once, and turned his gaze toward the aged Kingsguard knight from the Stormlands—Ser Meryn Trant.
"Ser Meryn, I recall that Ser Balon has not yet completed his training as a white knight. If he returns fully laden, how should I reward him?"
In the glow of the setting sun, Ser Meryn's golden sunburst helm and white scale armor threaded with gold gleamed with a dazzling light.
He first glanced at the visibly nervous Ser Balon, then bared his teeth. Though he was smiling, there was something cruel about it.
"Your Grace, it is my honor to offer counsel. Young Ser Balon inevitably lacks experience. Perhaps you could order him to Storm's End, to assist Lord Selwyn Tarth in forming the Storm's End Garrison."
Gryn pondered for a moment before shifting his gaze to another Kingsguard knight from the Vale.
At that, Ser Mandon Moore's pale gray, dead-fish eyes stirred slightly. He slowly said, "The garrison answers directly to the crown. Ser Balon is a suitable choice, my king."
"Did you hear that?"
Gryn gave Ser Balon a warm smile. "They all hold great expectations for you. So do I, ser. Go."
At his words, Ser Balon's heart surged with emotion, and his Adam's apple bobbed involuntarily several times.
He swept a grateful glance over the crowd, then sharply tugged the reins. The horse let out a long neigh before swiftly wheeling