Game of Thrones: The Red Dragon Lord

As if he had guessed her purpose, Gavin said softly,

"If you encounter problems, you can write to me. Letters will not affect our exchange of ideas."

The two chatted silently for a long time until the banquet was over.

Margery walked to the tower where her grandmother lived with light steps. She climbed the stairs, knocked gently on the old wooden door, and after receiving a response, she slowly entered.

Inside, a thin old woman came into view. Olenna had silver hair and a short frame. The headscarf on her head highlighted her solemnity. Her weather-beaten face was lined with deep wrinkles, but her eyes were shrewd and sharp, as if they could see through everything. She was, of course, Olenna Tyrell, the Queen of Thorns.

Olenna glanced at Margery and said sharply,

"Are you done with the nonsense?"

Margery smiled and stuck out her tongue playfully, then walked to the chair beside her grandmother and snuggled affectionately on her shoulder.

"My stupid son," Olenna added with a sigh, "when will your father mature? He will cooperate with you in your nonsense soon enough. Even if that boy is talented, your brother should come forward, not you. Tell me—why did you change your mind?"

Margery hurriedly replied,

"He is very strong in swordsmanship and has many good suggestions for managing the territory."

Olenna snorted coldly.

"The Sword of the Morning was strong too, yet he couldn't save the Targaryens. As for the territory, the Tyrell family is not short of money. You are the jewel of Highgarden, and this personal canonization nonsense of yours is not worth damaging your reputation. Now, tell me the truth, child."

Margery's heart tightened at her grandmother's words, and she hesitated, unsure how to respond.

Olenna sighed again, this time more softly.

"I was young once, too. A handsome, well-spoken boy with superb swordsmanship is attractive, I know. But in the end, for the sake of our family, we must all give up such fantasies. Return to reason, child."

Seeing Margery lower her head in silence, Olenna gently took her hand.

"My dear, you will marry a prince or a king one day and become a queen. That is your goal—not love."

Gavin followed Edmund along the path back to the castle. The night was as clear as water, and the breeze blew gently.

Suddenly, two figures approached them. It was Randyll Tarly and his son Dickon Tarly.

Randyll's face was serious, his brows furrowed, and his eyes fixed straight ahead. His entire demeanor was cold and unapproachable, his tense facial muscles showing no hint of warmth. By contrast, his son Dickon's face was eager and filled with youthful anticipation.

Randyll greeted Edmund calmly. Edmund asked curiously,

"Earl Randyll, is there something you need?"

Randyll shook his head, glanced at Dickon, and said,

"I'm sorry to trouble you. I have nothing urgent. This is my son, Dickon. He wishes to meet Knight Gavin."

Dickon stepped forward, bowed slightly to Edmund, and turned to Gavin with expectant eyes.

"It's an honor to meet you, Knight Gavin. I watched your competition. Would you consider teaching me swordsmanship? I am willing to pay for your guidance."

Gavin frowned slightly and replied apologetically,

"I'm afraid not. Once the martial arts tournament ends, I have to travel, and I won't have much time."

Dickon, clearly flustered, stamped his foot and quickly said,

"Then perhaps you could guide me for a short while—before the tournament ends?"

Gavin thought for a moment, glanced at Randyll, and said calmly,

"Yes, but the reward won't be necessary. I do have a request, though, if Lord Randyll will agree."

Randyll raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised.

"And what request would that be?"

Gavin replied solemnly,

"I have heard that the Tarly family owns a Valyrian steel sword, Heartsbane. I am a sword enthusiast and would love the opportunity to wield such a legendary blade while I teach Dickon."

Randyll nodded without hesitation, his face still unreadable.

"Very well. Your swordsmanship will not dishonor my family sword. Come to our camp tomorrow to train my son."

Gavin smiled faintly and bowed slightly.

"Then it's settled."

That night, lying in his camp bed, Gavin let out a long sigh of relief. He opened his status panel, confirming that his name had changed to Gavin Belleris. The panel truly updated in real time. Asking to use Heartsbane was a test to see whether Valyrian steel contained magic. If it did, weapons like it could become key targets for him to gain energy points.

The next day, Gavin arrived at the Tarly family camp early. Randyll introduced his eldest son, Samwell Tarly, and requested that he also be included in the training. Gavin agreed without hesitation, and at long last, he was handed Heartsbane.

The moment he grasped the sword, he felt magic energy surging within it—dense and vibrant, like the power in his dragonbone pendant. He thought to himself,

"So it's true. In addition to dragonbones, Valyrian steel can also provide magic power."

He roughly estimated the absorption speed and realized it might take seven or eight days to fully absorb the sword's energy.

To speed up the process, Gavin doubled the training sessions. His two students, Dickon and Samwell, suffered greatly under the grueling regimen. Exhausted and drenched in sweat each day, they dared not slack off under his sharp gaze.

Randyll observed the training daily and was impressed. Dickon's swordsmanship visibly improved, and even Samwell—though still soft-hearted—had lost weight and made progress with his sword work.

Randyll admired Gavin's teaching. His explanations were clear and precise, and his dedication was undeniable. He extended training times voluntarily, showing a determination to see results. In return, Randyll invited Gavin to dine with him each evening, often sharing insights about leadership and command.

Finally, when the jousting tournament began, Gavin had absorbed 3 energy points from Heartsbane. To his surprise, the sword could also slowly replenish its magic power on its own, though at a sluggish rate. This discovery only intensified Gavin's desire to obtain a Valyrian steel weapon of his own.

In Westeros, jousting was the most prestigious competition of all. Its high cost and entry requirements excluded commoners entirely. The tournament's victor would earn the honor of crowning a lady as the "Queen of Love and Beauty."

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