Chapter 19 CHAPTER 19
Garon turned at the sound of the voice and saw Tyrion Lannister standing not far away, curiously observing him with bright, sharp eyes.
The dwarf was only about half Garon's height, yet the confidence radiating from him made it difficult for anyone to ignore his presence.
"Good day, Lord Tyrion."
Garon turned fully and greeted him politely.
Tyrion did not seem surprised that Garon recognized him.
In truth, if someone failed to recognize the infamous Imp of Casterly Rock, that would have been far stranger.
He spread his hands dramatically and sighed in exaggerated relief.
"Ah, praise the Seven Gods."
"So Northerners are capable of politeness after all."
"I was beginning to think everyone here only knew how to clutch ale mugs and gossip behind other people's backs."
Since entering Winterfell, Tyrion had constantly heard whispers and ridicule hidden behind lowered voices.
Though he had long grown accustomed to the mockery caused by his stature, hearing it repeatedly after over a month of exhausting travel still soured his mood considerably.
At the moment, he clearly wished to vent his irritation.
Garon quietly observed the sharp-tongued Tyrion before him, and a strange glint flashed across his eyes.
He had not expected his first conversation with Tyrion to begin with such a sensitive subject.
"Then you must have misunderstood the North, Lord Tyrion."
Garon neither flattered nor avoided him as he calmly replied,
"Northerners are simply more straightforward than Southerners."
"Even when standing directly in front of someone, they still speak honestly without hesitation."
Tyrion snorted coldly.
"That only proves Northerners are like the stones of Winterfell."
"Cold and hard."
Unexpectedly, Garon merely smiled faintly.
"Even cold stones will eventually warm if you hold them close long enough."
"But the Westerlands are different."
"The prejudices hidden in the hearts of people there are like the mountains of gold beneath Casterly Rock."
"No matter how deeply you dig, you can never excavate them completely."
"I imagine Lord Tyrion understands that feeling very well."
The moment those words fell, Tyrion's eyes instantly narrowed.
He did not care that Garon implied he was unwelcome in the Westerlands.
That fact was already common knowledge throughout the Seven Kingdoms.
What truly surprised him was that such insightful words came from someone so young.
"A clever one…"
Tyrion silently studied Garon more carefully.
"During the welcoming ceremony earlier, I remember seeing him among the Starks, yet Lady Catelyn clearly kept him at a distance."
"I've heard for years that Lord Stark keeps a bastard in Winterfell."
"Could this be him?"
The thought instantly stirred Tyrion's interest.
A desire to befriend Garon quietly rose in his heart.
Thus, he grinned mischievously and said,
"Then tell me, bastard brother, how exactly should I warm the stones of the North?"
Garon immediately sighed in exasperation, leaving Tyrion somewhat bewildered.
"Lord Tyrion, I genuinely worry whether you'll survive the North."
"You really shouldn't casually call people bastards."
"In the North, that can easily lead to a duel."
Tyrion blinked in surprise.
"You're not Lord Stark's bastard?"
Garon shook his head before calmly introducing himself.
"Garon Glover, Lord of Deepwood Motte."
Realization immediately appeared on Tyrion's face.
"The Glovers of the Wolfswood?"
He awkwardly coughed once and spread his hands helplessly.
"My mistake."
"I assumed anyone unwelcome around Lady Catelyn must naturally be the bastard."
Garon did not seem offended and instead returned to Tyrion's earlier question.
"As for warming the stones of the North…"
His gaze briefly lingered on Tyrion before he continued,
"You must first let Northerners see your strengths."
"Once they recognize your value, they will naturally open their hearts."
"My strengths?"
Tyrion immediately grinned strangely.
"A wonderful suggestion."
"In that case, perhaps I should find several women willing to witness my strengths firsthand."
Then he leaned closer toward Garon and lowered his voice conspiratorially.
"So, my friend…"
"You must know where a man can spend one gold dragon and feel as though he's ascended into heaven, yes?"
Garon instantly felt speechless.
His original intention had been to suggest Tyrion rely on his intellect and wit.
Yet somehow Tyrion had effortlessly steered the conversation back toward women and brothels.
One truly could not deny Tyrion deserved his infamous reputation.
"Of course."
Garon still answered calmly.
"In Winter Town, Lord Tyrion should find no shortage of women willing to provide such services."
"However…"
Tyrion immediately interrupted with interest.
"However what?"
Garon smiled teasingly.
"However, I suggest Lord Tyrion borrow a horse first."
"Otherwise, by tomorrow morning your legs may be too weak to carry you back for the King's feast."
Tyrion froze for a moment.
Then he burst into loud laughter.
"So there really are interesting people in the North."
"How rare."
"Well then, my friend, perhaps you could at least point me toward the stables?"
Garon slightly bowed.
"My pleasure."
He naturally had no reason to refuse building a relationship with Tyrion.
After all, Tyrion Lannister was one of the most valuable political figures in the future wars to come.
The two walked together toward the stables, attracting many curious glances along the way.
"Interesting…"
Tyrion casually observed the looks directed toward Garon rather than himself.
"It seems you're fairly famous around Winterfell."
Garon merely smiled faintly without answering.
Soon, the two arrived at the stables.
After hearing Tyrion's request, the stablemaster quickly prepared a horse and personally helped Tyrion climb onto it.
Before departing, Tyrion looked deeply at Garon once more.
At the moment, however, the women waiting in Winter Town were clearly more attractive than continuing their conversation.
A cynical grin curled across Tyrion's lips.
"When I return, I'll have to tell him whether Northern women are truly different from Southern ones…"
With that thought, Tyrion flicked the reins and rode away toward Winter Town.
Garon silently watched his departing figure, suppressing his thoughts regarding Tyrion deep within his heart.
Just as he prepared to return to his room and rest before the evening banquet, a tall figure emerging from a nearby side corridor suddenly caught his attention.
Ser Jaime Lannister.
"Ser Jaime?"
Garon's eyes narrowed slightly.
He had not expected to encounter both Lannister brothers on the same day.
Jaime casually glanced toward the direction Tyrion had departed before fixing his gaze upon Garon.
"Where is he going?"
His tone carried neither politeness nor warmth.
Garon shrugged calmly.
"Lord Tyrion wished to find someone capable of showing him where pleasure can be found."
Understanding immediately flashed through Jaime's eyes.
Then he continued questioning him directly.
"Who are you?"
"And why are you accompanying Tyrion?"
Garon calmly replied,
"My chambers happen to be close to Lord Tyrion's."
"As for my identity…"
"I am Garon Glover of Deepwood Motte."
Recognition finally appeared in Jaime's expression.
"The Glovers of the Wolfswood?"
Jaime nodded absentmindedly, instantly losing most of his interest.
He turned as though preparing to leave.
However, after only taking two steps, he suddenly recalled the welcoming ceremony earlier.
More specifically, he remembered the cold look Garon had directed toward Prince Joffrey.
Jaime's mood instantly soured.
His eyes drifted toward the longsword hanging at Garon's waist.
A playful yet dangerous smile appeared on his lips.
"So…"
"Can wood from the Wolfswood truly forge a decent sword?"
Jaime's tone was full of mockery.
"I'm curious."
"Have you ever used that sword to stab beasts in the Wolfswood?"
At first, Garon failed to understand Jaime's intentions and simply nodded calmly.
"I have."
Unexpectedly, Jaime immediately continued.
"What about people?"
The sudden question caused Garon's expression to freeze slightly.