"Thundersmoke—what a fitting name."
Lord Selwyn led the smoky-gray stallion forward. Galladon reached out and gently touched the horse's forehead. The great beast responded by rubbing its head against his palm, docile and intelligent.
Galladon circled the horse twice, admiring its powerful build and rare coat color. The smoky silver-gray sheen reminded him of a finely crafted weapon—low-key yet striking.
"From now on, he is yours," Selwyn said, handing over the reins.
Galladon mounted smoothly. From the saddle, his field of vision widened noticeably. Thundersmoke moved with surprising grace—strong, yet steady. The horse seemed to instinctively adjust its pace for the most comfortable ride.
After two laps around the sacred grove, Galladon dismounted, thoroughly satisfied.
"How much did he cost?" he asked.
"Two hundred gold dragons," Selwyn replied calmly.
Galladon blinked.
An ordinary horse cost only silver stags. Even fine warhorses rarely exceeded ten gold dragons. Noble mounts might reach one hundred.
Two hundred gold dragons was extraordinary.
But this was a Dothraki steed—rarely sold to outsiders—and transported across a vast distance.
The price made sense.
"We still have two days before departure," Selwyn said. "There is something else."
Two servants brought forward a large wooden tray covered in black cloth.
When Galladon lifted the covering, he saw it—
A dark gray suit of plate armor.
The metal shimmered faintly, patterned with subtle flowing lines like rippling water. It resembled Valyrian steel at first glance, yet darker and more restrained.
The helmet was practical and cleanly designed. The entire set exuded a quiet nobility.
"Father… what material is this?"
Selwyn smiled slightly. "You are familiar with Valyrian steel."
Galladon froze.
"It is not Valyrian steel," Selwyn clarified. "A master smith in Qarth developed this alloy while attempting to replicate it. It is lighter and more durable than common steel, resistant to rust—though not equal to true Valyrian steel."
The flowing patterns reminded Galladon strongly of Damascus steel.
"How much?" he asked cautiously.
Selwyn raised two fingers again.
Two hundred gold dragons.
Galladon exhaled softly.
Selwyn added, "The nobles of Qarth were highly impressed with your toothbrush and toothpaste. As part of strengthening trade relations, they offered this armor."
Half gift. Half purchase.
Profits from hygiene products were already paying dividends.
The servants first fitted him with chainmail—interlinked metal rings that absorbed impact and enhanced defense.
Then came the breastplate, pauldrons, arm guards, skirt plates, and finally the helmet.
A gray-blue cloak was tied at his shoulders.
When finished, Galladon stood nearly 1.8 meters tall, clad in layered steel.
The armor fit perfectly.
Years of training had built a powerful yet lean physique. Combined with the dark gray sheen and subtle patterning, he looked both elegant and formidable.
The servants stared with awe.
Lord Selwyn felt a quiet swell of pride.
Galladon had grown into something exceptional—sharp-minded, capable, and striking in presence.
For a fleeting moment, Selwyn wondered whether marrying into House Hightower might be too modest an arrangement.
But Helena was admirable, and the thought passed.
"You two will serve Galladon as his personal attendants from now on," Selwyn said to the young servants.
They bowed eagerly.
Knights required attendants to help with armor and equipment. Though Galladon was not yet formally knighted, he now stood on that path.
One servant, thin and freckled, seemed familiar.
"Do you remember when you fell into the water six years ago?" Selwyn prompted. "He is Old Fick's son."
Galladon recalled.
The boy who had first discovered the Just Maid.
"My name is Pique, my lord," the boy said nervously.
Galladon nodded.
"And you?" he asked the other, a sturdier youth with chestnut hair.
"Harrison, my lord."
"Your father is a hunter."
Harrison's eyes widened.
"Yes… my lord."
Galladon merely smiled.
With heightened perception, he could sense the boy's coiled readiness—something forged in the wilderness.
Satisfied, Galladon allowed them to help remove the armor.
As Selwyn departed, only Thundersmoke remained in the grove beside him.
The Harrenhal tourney was approaching.
With Thundersmoke beneath him and Qarth-forged armor upon him—
Galladon was ready.
(End of Chapter 22)
A/N:
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