The banquet was in full swing. Some guests slipped away from their tables to mingle; the ladies chattered and laughed, while the men clinked goblets and swapped stories. At William's corner table, only Leonie seemed to notice his mood swinging like a rollercoaster—Sam and his sisters carried on cheerfully, oblivious to William's inner turmoil.
William's gaze drifted up to the dais, where Lady Margaery had just covered her mouth in laughter, her eyes sparkling like crescent moons. A fresh flutter stirred in his chest.
Her magic signature is so pure… untouched. William mused. What if she really is a "wild" mage? If I could bring her into my circle, we might learn from each other—better than me tinkering alone. Could she be the key to breaking my bottleneck?
Over the past four years, William had studied over a hundred spells, but only four had ever worked:
1. Enhance : Boosted his strength, speed, and reflexes to near-human limits.
2. Healing : Closed wounds at lightning speed, letting him train and fight without fear.
3. Restore : Converted his spirit-energy into physical stamina—fatigue be gone.
4. Absorb: A passive ward that, when charged, could turn a lethal blow into a chance to recover—especially against surprise attacks.
All of those only worked on himself, though. If he could cast on others, he'd make a fortune just selling healing—no need to roam tourney fields for prize money.
Without magic, William knew he'd still become a knight easily enough. But magic elevated him to the top: able to spar with any champion, even the Mountain.
Still, he couldn't shake the frustration: Why only these four spells? They all felt related. If he could master other schools of magic… his power would soar. He'd even asked Grop, the Qartheen warlock consultant, but Grop shrugged that mages either unlocked every spell or none at all.
Lucky for William's open-mindedness, he hadn't abandoned the spells that failed. He'd memorized them all perfectly, just in case.
And now, as he stared at Margaery, a spark lit in his mind. Those spells I can't use… they're all plant-based. Of course! The Tyrells descended from "Green-Hand Garth"—legend said he could command vegetation. Maybe each mage only unlocked certain magic lines. If Margaery could learn from me, maybe together we'd uncover new spells…
But then reality bit: How would I even teach her? Margaery's aura seemed weak—she wouldn't learn from dusty tomes alone. I'd have to tutor her personally, hand over hand… literally. And she's the darling of Highgarden, the next heir in line. No Tyrell lord would allow her to socialize so closely with a lowborn page. Their reputation would be ruined.
William's reverie was broken by Garlan's amused chuckle as he slid onto the bench beside him. "Deep in thought?"
Sam leaned in with a smirk. "I suppose you want to introduce yourself to Lady Margaery, Sir William."
Garlan put a hand on William's shoulder. "We're friends. If you mean to ask her hand properly, you have my blessing. Otherwise… you know the promise I made."
If I really eloped with the Rose of Highgarden, everything else would fall into place, William thought, but he only shrugged. "Proper proposal? Lord Randyll would have me beheaded just the same."
Garlan laughed. "Margaery is the fairest rose in Highgarden—no one plucks her easily!" He ruffled William's hair and returned to Leonie's side.
William's thoughts spun. Would Margaery tell her father I practice magic?
So far, no one could prove he was a mage—though some suspected:
Grop and Mokken, the Qartheen warlocks, might have noticed subtle signs during their lessons.
Archmaester Marwyn, when William quizzed him on strange spells.
And worst of all, Moroya Hightower, the so-called "madwoman" who nearly bled him dry, convinced she could steal his power with her bloodlust…
Magic could be a curse as much as a gift. If rumors spread, Samwell's Lord Father, Randyll Tarly—ever blunt—would either call William a fool or mock Randyll himself. No winning in the rumor mill. Best to keep some distance.
William rose and filled his goblet. "Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen—I must offer a toast to our hosts."
"And that means you'll meet Lady Margaery!" Sam called after him with a knowing grin.
On his way, Garlan intercepted him, lowering his voice: "Watch out for Lord Randyll… about those warlocks."
William blinked. The warlock affair… When he quietly hired Grop and Mokken, Randyll denounced them as charlatans. When William's fame rose, the scandal followed. Now, every whisper either brands William the fool or Randyll the madman—depending on who tells it.
No escaping gossip, William thought, but he'd steer clear of Randyll's reach. His only concern now was Margaery.
Raising his cup with steady composure, he called out, "I won't deny it, Sam," and shrugged. "It's hardly shameful." The ladies nearby smiled in indulgence at his frankness.
Now, with purpose in his step, William headed toward the dais, eyes fixed on Highgarden's budding rose—and the chance to seize his moment.