While Lynd and Vortir discussed matters in their room in the Goldenrose Courtyard, Lynd was also a topic of conversation in the Highgarden gardens.
The noblewon had departed at the command of the Queen of Thorns, leaving only the Tyrell family and a few trusted handmaids. Once the candles were lit and the garden bonfire kindled, the servants withdrew to a respectful distance. Castle guards stood watch nearby, ensuring no one could eavesdrop.
“What’s going on with that Bear Hunter, Lynd?” Olenna Redwyne, the Queen of Thorns, asked Lord Mace Tyrell, who had just arrived from his eting. Her expression was unreadable. “You told him to suspend his mission, summoned him from Tumbleton, then vanished and sent Vortir to deliver a single sentence. On top of that, you stuck him in the barracks. What exactly are you trying to do? Have you grown so arrogant lately that you’ve forgotten yourself?”
The Queen of Thorns, though diminutive—barely taller than two children standing side by side—spoke in a soft but piercing voice.
Her words carried such clarity and weight that everyone present could hear her distinctly. With each syllable, an intangible aura of authority filled the air, stifling everyone except her granddaughter, Margaery Tyrell.
Olenna’s commanding presence was a constant force, and Lord Mace, visibly uneasy, struggled to respond.
“Mother...” Lady Alerie began, intending to intercede for her husband.
“Shut up, Alerie. You shut up,” Olenna snapped, her tone sharp and uncompromising. “I’m teaching my son a lesson. This puffed-up Lord Puff Fish, who swells at the slightest offense, is not your concern. Stand there and say nothing.” Turning back to Mace, she demanded sternly, “Now, Mace Tyrell, answer . What were you thinking?”
Lowering his head, Lord Mace muttered, “Mother, he’s just an ordinary knight—one newly knighted by the king.”
The Queen of Thorns rose from her chair and approached him, her glare sharp enough to cut through stone. “Are you deaf? Can’t you hear the cheers outside the walls? Has no one inford you about what happened in the outer city this afternoon? And yet you dare to call him an ordinary knight? Has a White Walker devoured your brain?”
Lord Mace’s head drooped further, and everyone around him followed suit, avoiding her piercing gaze.
Olenna returned to her chair, her tone heavy with disappointnt. “Lord Mace, explain why you summoned Ser Lynd Tarran to Highgarden.”
Mace whispered, “Willas was traveling to Dorne, and I feared for his safety. I brought Ser Lynd here to protect him.”
“So you admit you summoned him to safeguard your son—your heir,” Olenna replied, her voice slightly calr. “Shouldn’t you then make an effort to win him over? Why have you ignored him? Are you not concerned that your indifference might foster resentnt, causing him to falter in protecting Willas?”
“He wouldn’t dare!” Mace’s face betrayed a flicker of panic, though his words were defiant. “He’s just a knight. If he—”
Before he could finish, Olenna cut him off. “Why do you still see Lynd Tarran as just a knight? Have all the fools surrounding you pried open your skull to stuff it with dung? You’ve read the reports about him. You know how highly regarded he is in Tumbleton, yet you continue to dismiss him?”
Mace hesitated. “But... he isn’t the Lord of Tumbleton.”
Before he could elaborate, Olenna grabbed a roll of parchnt from the table and hurled it at him. “Here’s so intelligence from Tumbleton that you discarded without a thought. Read it—now.”
Mace froze, then picked up the letter and read quickly. His expression grew grave.
Olenna’s voice was laced with controlled fury. “Before returning to Highgarden, the Lady of Tumbleton, Nyria Footly, offered to marry him. Although he refused, if he were to show interest again, he could easily beco the Lord of Tumbleton. Do you still think such a man is rely an ordinary knight?”
Mace was silent, avoiding her gaze. After a pause, he asked, “Why did he refuse?”
“I’d like to know that myself,” Olenna admitted, her tone uncharacteristically uncertain.
A noblewoman from a lesser Tyrell branch ventured hesitantly, “Perhaps... it’s because Lady Nyria is too unattractive?”
Olenna shot her a withering look. “Is there anyone in the world uglier than your husband? Even he has suitors scrambling for his hand. What difference does it make if Lady Nyria isn’t a beauty?”
The noblewoman imdiately bowed her head, unwilling to challenge Olenna further.
The Queen of Thorns turned to Lord Mace and said, “Do you think I’m angry with you for belittling Ser Lynd Tarran simply because of his influence in Tumbleton?”
“Isn’t that the case?” Lord Mace asked, clearly puzzled.
The Queen of Thorns asked solemnly, “How long has Ser Lynd Tarran been with our House Tyrell?”
Lord Mace, montarily stunned, replied, “A few months, right?”
“A few months. Less than half a year,” the Queen of Thorns confird with a nod. “And before joining House Tyrell, what was his status?”
“A hunter,” Lord Mace answered quickly. “It’s even ntioned in the Song of the Bear Hunter.”
“So tell ,” the Queen of Thorns pressed, “since the ergence of the Seven Kingdoms, how many people from a hunter’s background have achieved what Lynd Tarran has in just a few months?”
At her question, silence fell over the garden. Everyone present searched their mories for comparable figures from the histories they had read. Despite their efforts, none could think of anyone quite like Lynd.
“I have lived a long ti and seen many legendary figures,” the Queen of Thorns said solemnly, “but I have never encountered anyone like Lynd Tarran. A man of such caliber, even if he cannot be a friend, must never beco an enemy—least of all when he is a knight of our House Tyrell. Isn’t he worth the effort to win over? Rember, arrogance has never been a trait of our House. Sotis, underestimating others only serves to expose your own shortcomings.”
Lord Mace remained silent, his expression unreadable. After a brief pause, he said, “I’ll go et him tomorrow.”
“No need. I’ve already asked Willas to et him,” the Queen of Thorns replied with a shake of her head.
“I want to go too!” Margaery Tyrell exclaid, standing on a stone chair. “I want to see the big cat.”
“I want to go as well,” Loras added.
“Very well, you may go,” the Queen of Thorns agreed.
With the matter settled, Lord Mace made an excuse to leave the garden, and Lady Alerie followed him.
Once outside, instead of returning to their chambers, the couple strolled toward the Godswood of Highgarden.
This Godswood is situated on the western slope of the inner ring of Highgarden. The dense, towering Weirwoods obscure most of the view of the Great Sept of Highgarden from the rear. At the center of the woods stand three Heart Trees, said to have been personally planted by Garth Greenhand. These trees are more luxuriant and taller than the surrounding ones, their fiery red leaves resembling blazing flas. Even those outside the castle walls can see the crowns of these three Heart Trees rising above the walls.
As they walked, Lord Mace suddenly asked, “Alerie, what did you think of Lynd Tarran when you saw him?”
Lady Alerie reflected for a mont before replying, “He’s a composed young man. I heard he’s only fifteen or sixteen, but he doesn’t look it. He seems closer to twenty or even thirty.”
“He does seem very mature,” Lord Mace agreed. “But you know what? The impression he gave wasn’t just one of maturity—it was a lack of respect. When I t him at the camp outside King’s Landing, he looked at as though I were no different from a servant. I am the Lord of Highgarden, his liege lord. Shouldn’t he feel so awe toward ?”
“So that’s why you don’t like him?” Lady Alerie asked.
“That’s part of it,” Lord Mace admitted. “But it’s not the main reason. What really makes dislike him is that he reminds of Randyll Tarly.”
“Lord Randyll Tarly?” Lady Alerie asked, taken aback. She recalled Lynd’s appearance and shook her head. “They don’t look alike at all.”
“I’m not talking about his appearance. It’s the aura he gives off,” Lord Mace clarified.
Lady Alerie considered this and eventually nodded. “You’re right. There is sothing about him that’s similar.”
Lord Mace sighed. “One Randyll Tarly is enough to drive mad. I don’t need another to tornt .”
Seeing her husband’s frustration, Lady Alerie smiled and took his hand. “Lord Tarly may be rigid, but he’s never given you poor counsel. You should be grateful to have such a steadfast vassal.”
Lord Mace shrugged, clearly unconvinced.
By this ti, they had reached the three Heart Trees. They stood before them in silence and perford an ancient prayer ritual.
Though House Tyrell followed the Faith of the Seven, they did not reject the Old Gods, and so old rituals tied to the Weirwoods were still practiced within their family.
After praying to the Heart Tree, Lord Mace suddenly asked, “Do you think he is a suitable match for Janna?”
“Janna?” Lady Alerie was taken aback. “Hasn’t Mother already found a match for Janna? I believe it was Ser Jon Fossoway of New Barrel.”
Lord Mace explained, “But Mother only has him in mind; she hasn’t formally approached New Barrel.”
“No,” Lady Alerie shook her head firmly. “A marriage alliance with New Barrel concerns the stability of the Reach and your ability to suppress the Red Apple Fossoways. There can’t be any mistakes. Even though no contact has been made with New Barrel, Mother has deliberately spread the news among the noblewon, waiting for New Barrel to hear the rumors and send Ser Jon Fossoway to propose. If you marry Janna to soone else now, the Green Apples will take it as an insult and join forces with the Red Apples. That would not be good for you.”
“Well, you’re right. It really can’t be changed,” Lord Mace agreed, nodding at her reasoning. “Then which other marriageable won are there in the family…”
Lady Alerie interrupted, narrowing her eyes. “Wait, why do you want to marry Ser Lynd off so badly? Don’t you dislike him?”
Lord Mace muttered, “Didn’t you see how Mother was earlier? She values Lynd Tarran very highly, and I’m worried that one day she might lose her head and give Margaery to him…”
“You’re crazy. How old is Margaery?” Lady Alerie stared at her husband in disbelief, slightly hurt. “And even if you lose your head, Mother won’t. Leave Ser Lynd alone and let Willas handle it.”
Lord Mace shrugged and said nothing more.
Lady Alerie sighed as she looked at her husband, whose diocrity often frustrated her. Casually, she changed the topic, asking, “Have you thought about which manor or village Ser Lynd should receive as a reward for completing the task of suppressing the bandits north of Bitterbridge?”
Lord Mace shook his head dismissively. “What’s the point of thinking about that now? He hasn’t even completed it yet. Besides, he might not even succeed.”
Lady Alerie retorted, “You’ve read all those reports from Tumbleton. Do you really think it’s possible for Ser Lynd to fail?”
Though he didn’t want to admit it, Lord Mace knew deep down that it was only a matter of ti before Lynd completed his mission. Even if envious rivals tried to hinder him, their sches could only delay the inevitable, not prevent it.
After a mont’s thought, Lord Mace said, “Why don’t we assign him a nearby manor or village? Having soone like him close by would give people peace of mind.”
Lady Alerie sighed, already disappointed in her husband’s judgnt. She pointed out bluntly, “Have you forgotten what happened in the outer city this afternoon? Mother just ntioned how much influence he’s already gained since coming to Highgarden. If he stays here for long…”
There was no need to say more. Even Lord Mace, with his limited insight, could see where the situation might lead. His expression grew serious. After a mont of contemplation, an idea seed to strike him, and he suddenly laughed. “Do you rember that our family has an enclave on the other side of the Red Mountains?”
“The other side of the Red Mountains?” Lady Alerie thought for a mont. “You an the land across from Wyl Castle?”
“Yes,” Lord Mace said, appearing pleased with himself. “That land is larger than a re estate or village. It would make an excellent reward.”
“You are very clever, my lord,” Lady Alerie replied with thinly veiled sarcasm. She doubted Lynd would accept such a reward but chose not to press the point. Lord Mace, oblivious to her tone, began considering the feasibility of his plan.
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