The following morning, before dawn had fully broken over Winterfell, Garon suddenly rolled off his bed and crashed heavily onto the cold stone floor.
The impact instantly jolted him awake.
He sat up abruptly, breathing heavily while cold sweat covered his forehead.
"A dream?"
Garon looked around blankly at the darkened room. The fireplace had long since gone out, leaving the chamber cold and gloomy.
His heart still pounded violently within his chest.
The dream had felt far too real.
For a mont, he had genuinely believed he was about to be torn apart by the two enormous dragons of ice and fire.
Only after several breaths did Garon finally calm himself enough to slowly stand up from the floor.
"Dragons... roots... the Three-Eyed Raven..."
"Was that rely a nightmare?"
"Or was it so kind of prophetic dream?"
Now fully awake, Garon tried carefully recalling every detail of the dream.
Unfortunately, the harder he attempted to rember, the more blurred the mories beca.
In the end, aside from vaguely recalling the appearance of giant dragons, almost everything else had beco hazy and indistinct.
"What exactly is happening to now?"
Garon frowned deeply.
The mory of Brynden Rivers telling him to travel beyond the Wall resurfaced once more in his mind.
"Do I truly need to go beyond the Wall like Bran eventually did?"
However, that thought only lingered briefly before Garon imdiately shook his head and dismissed it.
First of all, the current period was far too critical.
King Robert Baratheon would soon arrive in Winterfell, and afterward the entire chain of events leading toward the War of the Five Kings would begin unfolding rapidly.
At such a ti, Garon simply could not afford to leave the North and travel beyond the Wall.
Secondly, the Others had already begun stirring within the Land of Always Winter.
Even if the Three-Eyed Raven claid he could help him, Garon would never recklessly venture beyond the Wall without absolute preparation.
"Forget it."
"I should focus on the present first."
"If the Three-Eyed Raven truly needs sothing from , then sooner or later he will contact again."
After organizing his thoughts, Garon finally began paying attention to his surroundings.
The candles inside the room had already burned out completely. The extinguished fireplace offered no warmth whatsoever, leaving only cold shadows spreading throughout the chamber.
Garon touched his chilled hands and involuntarily shivered.
"It's almost dawn already."
"Since I'm awake anyway, I may as well move around a bit."
Completely rid of sleepiness now, Garon quickly dressed himself, fastened his longsword around his waist, and strode out of the room.
At this hour, all of Winterfell remained silent.
The sky outside still carried the dim blue darkness before sunrise.
Garon walked along the corridor and eventually arrived at the training yard, which was naturally empty at this ti of morning.
Taking a deep breath, he inhaled the icy northern air deeply into his lungs.
The bitter chill spread throughout his body like a freezing serpent, instantly waking him completely.
Following the habits he had developed in Deepwood Motte, Garon began warming up his body first.
After working up a slight sweat, he finally drew the longsword at his waist and prepared to begin practicing.
However, just as he raised his sword, a familiar voice sounded behind him.
"Lord Garon, you rise quite early for training."
Garon turned around imdiately.
The person standing behind him was none other than Ser Rodrik Cassel.
Garon returned his sword to its sheath and greeted him with a smile.
"Good morning, Ser Rodrik."
After returning the greeting politely, Garon explained casually,
"I've maintained this habit since my ti in Deepwood Motte."
"I practice swordsmanship every morning."
"When it cos to the sword, one day without training is already enough to fall behind."
"That's why I never dare beco lazy."
Ser Rodrik nodded approvingly.
"Indeed."
Garon carefully observed the old knight's attire and imdiately realized he had likely co for morning practice as well.
An idea suddenly surfaced in his mind.
"If you have ti, Ser Rodrik, perhaps we could spar for a while?"
"I've often heard Robb praise your swordsmanship."
Ser Rodrik imdiately laughed heartily.
He stroked his white whiskers proudly before agreeing without hesitation.
"Gladly."
"I also wish to witness Lord Garon's swordsmanship myself."
Since it was rely a spar, neither man intended to use real steel.
Instead, they each selected a wooden training sword from the nearby weapon rack.
As Garon casually spun the practice sword once within his hand, Ser Rodrik's eyes imdiately brightened.
An amateur might only watch for excitent.
But a true swordsman observed the details.
From that single movent alone, Ser Rodrik could already tell Garon's skill was absolutely not ordinary.
As for exactly how strong he truly was, only a proper exchange would reveal.
The two n soon stood opposite one another within the training yard.
After only a brief pause, Ser Rodrik attacked first.
Despite his age and stout fra, the old knight's movents remained surprisingly agile.
His wooden sword swept directly toward Garon's arm.
Garon calmly raised his own sword and perfectly deflected the strike before instantly launching a counterattack of his own.
The two exchanged blows rapidly.
Attack and defense intertwined continuously as they sparred through more than a dozen exchanges.
As the fight continued, Ser Rodrik gradually beca more astonished.
Garon dealt with every attack effortlessly.
No matter how he altered his rhythm or changed angles midway through his strikes, Garon always reacted perfectly.
After another failed attempt to break through Garon's guard, Ser Rodrik suddenly stepped backward and spoke solemnly.
"Lord Garon."
"I'll begin using my full strength now."
"I hope you will stop holding back as well."
Garon smiled faintly and nodded in agreent.
However, inwardly, he himself felt deeply shocked.
From the mont they began sparring, Garon had already noticed sothing unusual about his body.
His original physical abilities had already been exceptional.
Yet after everything that occurred in the godswood several nights ago, his reaction speed seed to have improved dramatically once again.
Now, whenever Ser Rodrik attacked, Garon could instantly determine the angle, speed, and force of the strike almost instinctively.
It was as though his senses themselves had evolved.
"If I had to describe it..."
"It's almost like awakening Observation Haki from One Piece."
The thought made Garon inwardly startled.
"Could the Green Seer bloodline truly be enhancing my body?"
Even while pondering this secretly, Garon never lost focus upon Ser Rodrik's sword.
"Still, I should hold back sowhat."
"If I accidentally injure the old knight, that would beco troubleso."
Judging from Ser Rodrik's posture, Garon instantly predicted the next attack.
"He's aiming for my shoulder."
Just as expected, Ser Rodrik suddenly lunged forward.
This ti, however, Garon did not retreat.
Instead, he calmly raised his sword horizontally at precisely the correct angle and blocked the incoming strike with almost frightening precision.
Ser Rodrik's expression changed imdiately.
The old knight instantly sensed the terrifying strength hidden behind Garon's sword.
Without daring to hesitate, Ser Rodrik smoothly shifted his strike into a slicing motion, redirecting the force before attacking upward from below.
Unfortunately, Garon's response was even faster.
His sword moved directly toward the point Ser Rodrik had no choice but to defend.
Crack!
The wooden sword struck Ser Rodrik's wrist cleanly.
A sharp numbness instantly spread through the old knight's arm, causing the training sword in his hand to fall helplessly onto the ground.
"I lose."
Ser Rodrik rubbed his wrist and admitted defeat openly without embarrassnt.
Although he had already guessed Garon's swordsmanship was exceptional, he never imagined the difference between them would be this overwhelming.
He could not even survive three true exchanges once Garon beca serious.
"It seems you deliberately held back earlier."
Ser Rodrik shook his head with a bitter smile.
Then his eyes filled with admiration.
"With your current level of swordsmanship, perhaps only Ser Barristan Selmy in all the Seven Kingdoms could truly match you."
"If you were to participate in the Hand's tourney at King's Landing, you would almost certainly win the championship."
Hearing such high praise from Winterfell's master-at-arms made Garon laugh softly.
At the sa mont, however, two stunned voices suddenly sounded nearby.
"What?!"
"Ser Rodrik actually lost?"
Garon turned and discovered Robb and Jon standing at the edge of the training yard, both staring wide-eyed in disbelief.
Neither of them could believe what they had just witnessed.
Even Ser Rodrik was no match for Garon?
Before either of them could recover fully, Ser Rodrik suddenly turned and glared toward the pair.
"Robb! Jon!"
"Why are you two only waking up now?"
"Look at Lord Garon!"
"At such a young age, his swordsmanship is already extraordinary, yet he still rises before dawn every day to train diligently."
"And what about the two of you?"
"All you know is sleeping!"
"At your age, how can you still have the nerve to be lazy?"
The old knight imdiately launched into a fierce lecture.
Robb and Jon stood there helplessly while enduring the scolding.
Both silently turned resentful gazes toward Garon.
Competing against a genius was already difficult enough.
Competing against a genius who also trained harder than everyone else was even worse.
Seeing their expressions, Garon could only shrug helplessly while trying hard not to laugh.
Afterward, Ser Rodrik resud training with Robb and Jon as usual.
As for the spar they had ntioned previously, neither Robb nor Jon dared bring it up again.
From that point onward, Garon's life within Winterfell gradually settled into a stable routine.
Every morning, he trained swordsmanship alongside Robb and Jon under Ser Rodrik's guidance.
In the afternoons, while enduring Lady Catelyn's increasingly vigilant supervision, he still found opportunities to teach Sansa more about Westerosi chess.
As for the evenings, Garon spent most of his ti secretly researching the strange changes occurring within his body and attempting to understand the abilities tied to the Green Seer bloodline.
Three days passed in this manner.
And during those three days, through Garon's continuous efforts, his relationship with Sansa progressed rapidly.
Sansa even secretly inford him about Catelyn's desire to arrange a marriage alliance between House Stark and the royal family.
Then, amidst such circumstances, the day finally arrived.
King Robert Baratheon's royal procession had reached Winterfell.
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