Game of Thrones: Knight's Honor-Chapter 338: Little Rose’s Lineage

Lynd had to admit—having an extra assistant to help manage affairs made things noticeably easier. And the fact that this assistant was pleasing to the eye certainly didn't hurt.

Little Rose had already changed into a women's hunting outfit, giving her a sharper, more capable appearance. She even wore a sword and a hand crossbow, a clear signal to anyone with ill intentions: this rose came with thorns. ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com

Back in Highgarden, she had occasionally helped her father and brother with lesser matters of governance and offered her own opinions from time to time, so she adapted quickly to her new role. Within just two days, she had fully settled into the work.

During that time, she also met her new neighbor—Sansa Stark. While Margaery found Sansa a bit naïve, she considered her a decent companion, especially with all her ladies-in-waiting left behind in Highgarden. Sansa filled that absence nicely. Margaery had made a point to befriend her, and they had quickly grown close. They even shared a bed the previous night, talking late into the evening—though for the most part, Margaery had simply listened and offered comfort.

"Did Lord Jon send these?" Margaery asked with a hint of disbelief as she rose from her seat in the private study Lynd had arranged for her. She accepted more than a dozen documents from Jon Falwell's adjutant.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, the adjutant explained, "Today happens to be Council Day. Not only do matters that can't be resolved within Summerhall's lands get sent over, but so do reports from the Stepstones, the Disputed Lands, and the ruins of Valyria. All of these need the Prince's attention. Once the Prince is finished reviewing them, please have someone notify me immediately so I can collect them."

"No need," Margaery said with a shake of her head. "When His Highness finishes, I'll deliver them myself. I've been meaning to get a closer look at Summerhall's cabinet and council chambers."

The adjutant offered no objection and turned to leave, reminding her one more time to urge Lynd to handle the documents promptly.

Once he was gone, Margaery picked up the top document and began reading.

Although she'd only been assisting for two days, she had already gained a general understanding of how Summerhall's administration worked. In truth, Lynd didn't need to personally oversee most matters. The majority were already handled by the City Hall, the Ministry of Internal Affairs, the Executive Cabinet, or the Council. Only particularly important issues—ones that couldn't be settled otherwise—required his involvement.

However, Lynd was often away, sometimes for several days, sometimes for over a fortnight. That's why these matters had piled up again—just like the stack from two days ago.

Before getting involved in Summerhall's governance, Margaery had always thought House Tyrell, as Wardens of the South and Lords of Highgarden, stood at the pinnacle of power. Ancient bloodlines, noble heritage, fertile lands—those were their strengths. Even though she'd heard of Summerhall, she'd assumed Lynd was merely the strongest of her family's vassals, like House Hightower in Oldtown.

But once she stepped into Summerhall's world, she realized how wrong she'd been. Lynd wasn't just powerful—he wielded authority that far exceeded her imagination. His dominion rivaled all of the Reach plus the Westerlands, and that wasn't even counting the Kingdom of Lorne. Include that, and he controlled nearly half of western Essos. It was territory vast enough to form an empire—like the Valyrian Freehold of old.

What's more, unlike the regional Wardens of the Seven Kingdoms, Lynd directly held control over his lands. His officials and generals were rarely granted titles, let alone hereditary lands. And yet, his administration remained strikingly stable, without the slightest sign of unrest.

If such a thing happened elsewhere, the knights and noble retainers would've rebelled long ago. After all, many pledged loyalty to lords in hopes of earning noble status or land for their heirs.

So the unusual political structure of Summerhall piqued Margaery's curiosity even more. She wanted to understand it.

Originally, she had only offered to become Lynd's assistant to pass the time. But now she truly wanted to understand the inner workings of this system—what made it function so well, and whether it could be applied in the Reach.

She quickly finished reading the first document. Its contents were simple: the construction of the Holy City of Calamity was nearly complete, and the High Priest of the Temple of the God of Calamity requested that Lynd visit in person to receive the worship of his followers.

After reading, Margaery couldn't help but sigh. For the first time, she truly realized how, in the eyes of certain believers, Lynd was already regarded as something akin to a divine being.

Still caught in that thought, she swiftly wrote down her suggestions at the end of the document.

Margaery continued reading through the stack of documents until she reached the final one—and to her surprise, it was connected to the infamous Black Cave.

The Black Cave was perhaps the most mysterious place in all of Summerhall. Everyone had heard of its existence and knew it lay at the northeastern edge of the Red Mountains, but no one really knew what went on there. The only certainty was its importance to Lynd. So vital, in fact, that he had dispatched elite troops to lock down the entire northeastern Red Mountains. No one who entered the forest ever returned.

Those who'd heard of the Black Cave speculated wildly—some said it was where Lynd had gained his godlike magical powers; others whispered he had found the gateway to the Seven Hells there. In short, the rumors were endless and bizarre, but none explained what the Black Cave actually was.

Naturally, Margaery was intensely curious. So when she saw that this particular document came from the Black Cave, she immediately opened it and read it with great attention. But when she finished, a look of confusion and unease spread across her face—because the document was about her.

She realized it had been submitted by Malora—her maternal aunt. Once dismissed as a madwoman, Malora was now a key advisor under Lynd. The content of the document was simple: it was a Bloodline Oath application. What unsettled Margaery was that the subject of the proposed research was her.

Her first instinct was fear—she thought Lynd might mean her harm, and she should run immediately.

But after the initial panic, she forced herself to think it through more rationally and concluded she might have misjudged the situation.

If Lynd truly intended to harm her, he wouldn't need to go to such lengths. He could have easily placed her under guard, or never allowed her near sensitive documents in the first place—certainly not made her an assistant.

And these documents had been brought to her by Jon, which meant he had seen the Bloodline Oath request too. Yet he hadn't pulled it out or hidden it—he simply passed it on for her to read. That meant Jon either didn't think the request was anything serious, or believed even if she knew about it, she wouldn't be able to change the outcome. Either way, he clearly didn't think it was worth hiding from her.

And in either case, it changed nothing for her. She had no power to stop it. All she could do was accept it.

After a moment of thought, she placed the document about herself on top of the stack, then carried the pile out of the study and headed toward the Dragon Nest Platform.

...

After passing through a corridor and garden, Margaery arrived at the platform. Neltharion, the lava dragon, wasn't there—it had flown back to its lair in the ruins of Valyria to feed on molten rock. While molten metal could serve as a substitute, real lava still provided the dragon with better nourishment. Lynd regularly allowed Neltharion to return to Valyria for this reason.

"Where is the Prince?" Margaery asked one of the servants stationed by the dragon's nest.

The servant pointed toward the incubation chamber.

Margaery walked over and saw Lynd inside, directing the servants as they rearranged the room.

He had just removed all the equipment used for hatching Wyverns and had it sent back to their nesting area. In its place, he was installing a specially crafted rune furnace. Two newly delivered dragon eggs sat atop it, continuously bathed in controlled magical flames.

Lynd didn't know if this method would work. It was simply something he had pieced together from the memories of the Nameless King. Even if it failed, he had nothing to lose.

The two eggs had been discovered by Deltos not long ago in the ruins of Valyria and delivered just yesterday. Lynd wasn't even sure if they were viable, or if they were long-dead shells. Still, it was worth the attempt—he was treating the dead horse as if it might still live, doing all he could.

"Are those dragon eggs? They're beautiful." Margaery leaned in beside the furnace. The eggs glowed with a gem-like sheen under the magical fire, and she couldn't help but sigh in awe. Then, curiosity shining in her eyes, she asked, "Can I ride a dragon?"

Lynd raised an eyebrow. "As far as I recall, the main line of House Tyrell never married into House Targaryen, did they?"

Margaery countered, "House Hightower did. Haven't you noticed the color of her hair? That's proof of Valyrian blood. I carry my mother's blood, so that means I have Valyrian lineage too." She looked directly at Lynd, her tone growing serious. "Is that why you want to study me? Because of the Valyrian blood in my veins?"

"Study you?" Lynd looked at her, puzzled.

Without answering, Margaery set the stack of documents down on a nearby stone step. Then she picked up the topmost document—the one from Malora—and handed it to him.

Lynd took the document and gave it a quick glance, then chuckled and said, "If Malora wants to study Valyrian bloodlines, she could just study herself. Based on blood concentration, she's actually closer to Valyrian lineage than you are."

Margaery's expression cooled as she realized she had jumped to the wrong conclusion. Still puzzled, she pointed to the request detailed in the document and asked, "Then why would Aunt Malora apply to study me—use me for her research?"

Lynd didn't answer right away. He turned and gave a few instructions to the servants to tend to the dragon eggs with care, then motioned for Margaery to follow him. She gathered the stack of documents in her arms and trailed behind him into his study.

Once inside, Lynd gestured for her to place the documents on the desk and sit opposite him. Only then did he speak.

"Malora isn't studying Valyrian blood. She's interested in Garth Greenhand."

"Garth Greenhand?" Margaery blinked, stunned.

She was, of course, familiar with the legendary figure. But unlike the myth that claimed Garth was a god, she preferred the Citadel's interpretation: that he was a hero from the Age of Dawn, whose fame for fertility and travels was exaggerated over time and woven into the myths by his descendants—the noble houses of the Reach.

But Lynd's next words were even more shocking.

"Garth Greenhand is still alive. He's in Highgarden. He was awakened over a decade ago, and your older brother Willas became his vessel—or rather, his chosen."

Margaery sat frozen, as if struck by a blast of cold wind. She never expected Lynd to speak to her about legends—and certainly not ones that involved her own brother.

"No wonder!" she murmured, recovering quickly. "No wonder I have memories of seeing Willas use magic when I was little—he made an entire wall bloom with flowers. I always thought I'd imagined it, or that it was just a dream... but now it makes sense. He really could control plants, just like the stories say Garth Greenhand could." Then she frowned slightly and asked, "But what does that have to do with me?"

"It has everything to do with you," Lynd replied. "Before Willas went to the Wall, he came here and met with me. He told me clearly—you've become Garth Greenhand's new chosen."

Margaery wasn't too surprised this time. When she'd first questioned Lynd, the possibility had already crossed her mind. His words merely confirmed it.

Still confused, she said, "But I can't do anything like what Willas can. I can't make plants grow. All I can do is attract animals."

Lynd thought for a moment. "That might be because Garth's power was severely drained. He's likely fallen into slumber again."

Margaery went quiet, sitting in contemplation for a long while before asking softly, "Does Father know?"

"Yes," Lynd said. "After Willas left for the Wall, I went to Highgarden again. You should remember—I told Lord Mace about it then."

Margaery's brows drew together. "Then shouldn't I be important to Highgarden? Why would Father still arrange a marriage for me?"

Lynd shook his head. "That's something you'll have to ask Lord Mace. I can't speak for his reasons."

She stood up after a moment, gave Lynd a respectful nod, and said, "Thank you for answering my questions. But please let my aunt know—I don't want to be studied."

With that, she reached out, plucked the application from Lynd's hand, and tossed it into the nearby fireplace. Then she pointed at the pile of documents and said, "Please finish these as soon as you can. I'll be waiting."

Lynd glanced at the documents and sighed.

But before he could even lift the first one, Balin came rushing in from outside.

"My Lord," he said breathlessly, "we've just received word—King's Landing is at war."