After the servants helped him out of his armor and cleaned his wounds, Ser Vernon was shocked to find that despite William's bloodied appearance, none of the injuries were serious. A few simple bandages were enough. The treatment didn't take long at all. With a few respectful words and reminders for William to rest well, Vernon took his leave.
William closed his eyes, trying to recover his strength while also considering how to treat Garlan. Then his thoughts drifted—maybe if he used magic on Margaery a few more times, she'd get a taste for it and start craving more. "By then, she'll be hooked... hehehe…"
But he was simply too exhausted. Before long, he drifted off to sleep.
Half-asleep, a delicious aroma woke him. William opened his eyes, peeked under one of the bandages, and saw that the wound had nearly healed. To avoid causing a stir, he wrapped it back up, got dressed, and stepped out of the tent.
The sun had softened its glow, and the sky was a clear, tranquil blue—like the surface of a pristine lake. The dense rows of tents stretched out before him, casting long shadows in the amber twilight. The smell of campfire smoke and cooking food drifted through the air—they were clearly setting up to camp here for the night.
Off in the distance, he spotted a column of cavalry kicking up a storm of dust as they rode in from Tenmile Town. Banners bearing golden roses on a green field flapped high in the air.
"Highgarden's reinforcements have finally arrived," he thought.
On his way to check on Garlan, William passed several servants. Each one paused upon seeing him, bowing respectfully before going about their duties. William responded with a smile, unable to stop a touch of pride from rising in his chest. Just days ago, he'd been practically invisible in this camp. Now, everyone who saw him bowed first—it was a taste of what it meant to be someone important, and he was definitely enjoying it.
Garlan was still unconscious. His face was calm, noble—even beautiful. His breathing was steady and strong, which reassured William.
The servant watching over Garlan looked at William with open reverence. Margaery's handmaidens, upon seeing him, smiled shyly. Without waiting for their mistress's cue, they stepped gracefully out of the wheelhouse and stood aside.
Though they were only branch members, all three were still noble ladies of House Tyrell. Their tactful behavior caught William off guard, but he kept his composure. Still, he didn't dare set foot into the wheelhouse. He simply stood at the entrance and waited for the girls to walk a bit further away before speaking.
"Margaery, I just went to see Garlan. He's out of danger, but there's still a risk of infection. We should treat him as soon as possible."
Margaery stretched languidly in her seat. "You've recovered already?"
"Not fully," William replied, "but casting a few spells should be fine."
At the mention of magic, Margaery's brow furrowed again. She didn't answer right away. Noticing her hesitation, William grinned. "Magic or no magic, surely it's alright for you to at least go visit your brother?"
"…Alright then," she finally nodded.
"Perfect," William thought, triumphant. "Once she's there, everything else will fall into place."
The two of them, along with the three girls, were just about to head to Garlan's tent when they spotted Ser Osmon approaching, accompanied by a knight in full armor. After a series of formalities, Osmon introduced him.
"Ser William, this is Ser Aegon Leyvel, Captain of the Highgarden Guard. Aegon, this is Ser William Rivers of Harrenhal."
Captain of the Guard? William straightened up immediately. That's a big deal. He bowed quickly and said, "Ser Aegon, an honor! I had the pleasure of meeting your brother not long ago."
Aegon was a tall man with a composed air, though his face was bright with a smile. "Ser William, the honor is mine. I visited Tenmile Town earlier today, and I must say—'one against a hundred' doesn't even begin to describe your courage."
William knew that in Westeros, too much humility came off as false modesty. He glanced at Margaery and said, "At the time, I was simply driven by a sense of justice… maybe it was Lady Margaery's encouragement that gave me the strength."
Margaery might've been cursing him in her heart, but on the surface, she could only keep up her polite smile. "Do you two have business with us? We were just on our way to see Garlan."
"Oh?" said Osmon. "Ser Aegon has already visited Ser Garlan. His condition appears stable. We're here to invite you both to the war council, to be briefed on the current situation and discuss the next steps."
William noticed something immediately—Osmon had listed his name before Margaery's.
Aegon and Osmon were the top commanders of this entire host of several hundred. That they had come in person to invite him to the war council was almost unbelievable. But that also meant he couldn't very well refuse.
Garlan's condition isn't urgent anymore anyway, he thought, and turned to Margaery.
She considered it for a moment, then said to the two knights, "I don't know anything about military matters—I'd just be in the way." She looked at William. "Ser William, go ahead. I'll go check on Garlan."
With that, she and her handmaidens drifted away.
Once the women were gone, the men loosened up. William knew these two held considerable influence even in Highgarden, and they clearly admired his martial prowess. The conversation became friendly and easy. Soon, they arrived at the main command tent.
Thanks to the reinforcements Aegon had brought, the tent now bustled with more knights than during Osmon's morning meeting. As the three entered, those who recognized William began whispering to those who didn't.
Aegon stepped into the center, cleared his throat, and addressed the room.
"When we left Highgarden, I thought our knights might have to live with the shame of this incident for the rest of their lives."
His voice wasn't loud, but it silenced the room.
"The attack on Tenmile Town came out of nowhere. Highgarden didn't even learn of it until Ser Osmon's messenger arrived. By then, everyone assumed the ironborn would have raided the place and vanished."
Several knights who had come with Aegon nodded. Judging by the timeline, the ironborn should have had ample time to escape. This attack had truly blindsided them all.
"But!" Aegon's voice rose sharply. "There was one knight—one man—who, alone, charged headlong into over two hundred fearsome raiders, infamous across the Seven Kingdoms. Without hesitation, without fear."
He turned to a burly knight. "Ser Marcus, tell us—how many ironborn corpses did you find outside Tenmile Town?"
Marcus called out, "Eighty-seven bodies, scattered from the edge of town all the way to the river. The road was littered with their dead."
Some of the knights who hadn't heard the details before gasped.
Aegon turned to another. "Ser Lavend, how many inside the town?"
"Sixty-five," Lavend answered, visibly fired up. "And we confirmed that at least forty of the wounds were made by a greatsword—including the infamous giant, Ronan."
Those who knew Ronan's reputation couldn't help but mutter in shock.
Aegon nodded, clearly pleased. "Later, we captured fifty-nine ironborn who'd surrendered in terror. They all claimed a demon had done it. But, gentlemen—" He raised his hand toward William. "That demon… is our hero."
He gestured broadly and declared, "This is Ser William Rivers of Harrenhal—our hero!"
The tent erupted. Knights surged forward to shake William's hand, introduce themselves, and offer their respect. It finally dawned on William—this wasn't just a war council. It was a damn award ceremony.
Still, it was hard to dislike the praise. Smiling, he returned each greeting graciously. It felt like a meet-and-greet with fans.
Osmon and Aegon stood back, beaming with satisfaction. Only after the introductions were done did they finally shift to official matters.
William, truth be told, didn't care much about the rest—how Duke Mace Tyrell had flown into a rage, issuing an order that "not a single ironborn shall escape, not even one ship." Or how Aegon's cavalry would ride out tomorrow to sweep the banks of the Mander and the Shield Islands in search of another ironborn force.
He listened politely, since it would be rude to leave.
Then Osmon announced that whether the royal guard departed tomorrow would depend on Maester Lomis's judgment of Garlan's condition. The maester was already on his way and expected to arrive within an hour or two.
William suddenly realized—he didn't have much time left.