Inside Winterfell's needlework room, Garon stood quietly behind Robb Stark, calmly observing the chess match unfolding between the Stark siblings.
It was currently Robb's turn to move.
Yet the situation on the board had already beco hopeless.
Almost all of Robb's pieces had been captured, leaving only his king trapped helplessly near the corner of the board while Sansa steadily controlled the field with two bishops.
Robb frowned deeply as he stared at the pieces before him, desperately searching for even the smallest chance to survive. At the very least, he hoped to force a draw and preserve so dignity.
Unfortunately, from Garon's perspective, the outco had already been decided.
Robb was dood to lose.
As his gaze shifted toward Sansa, a trace of genuine surprise appeared in Garon's eyes.
He truly had not expected Sansa Stark to possess such remarkable talent for Westerosi chess.
After only a handful of gas, she had already completely understood Robb's style of play. She carefully used his aggressive habits against him, gradually exchanging pieces while restricting his king's movent step by step.
Now she had already completed the setup necessary for a double-bishop checkmate.
The space available to Robb's king would only continue shrinking.
Unless Sansa intentionally chose rcy or forced a draw herself, checkmate was inevitable.
Sure enough, after several monts of hesitation, Robb cautiously moved his king one square sideways.
The instant he released the piece, Sansa imdiately advanced her bishop with visible excitent.
"Checkmate."
A bright smile appeared across her face.
"Robb, you lost again."
Robb stared blankly at the chessboard for several seconds as though his soul had left his body entirely.
His expression looked so defeated that even Garon nearly laughed aloud.
"It makes no sense," Robb muttered weakly. "Why is it that every ga ends with only my king left alive?"
Hearing this, Garon silently shook his head.
Robb's style was far too reckless.
He focused entirely on attacking while constantly neglecting his own defense. Sansa had already grasped this weakness and thodically dismantled his pieces one after another.
Seeing that there was truly no escape remaining, Robb finally sighed and tipped over his king piece in surrender.
The mont he conceded, Sansa's mood visibly brightened.
"Another ga," she imdiately urged while eagerly resetting the board. "Robb, let's play one more."
Clearly, she had already beco completely captivated by Westerosi chess.
The more she played, the more she understood what Garon ant earlier when he said the rules were simple while the strategy itself remained endlessly complex.
Every move required patience and careful thought.
To trap an opponent's king successfully, one needed to think several steps ahead while constantly predicting the enemy's intentions.
Compared to Sansa's growing enthusiasm, however, Robb already looked exhausted.
He quickly shook his head in surrender.
"No more."
"I've already lost enough today."
Continuing would only an suffering further humiliation.
Rather than endure additional defeats, he would much rather escape while he still could.
"Huh?"
Sansa imdiately looked dissatisfied.
"Septa Mordane still hasn't returned yet. Just one more ga."
Arya Stark, anwhile, had long since lost interest in the room entirely.
Compared to elegant strategy gas, Arya naturally preferred swords, daggers, and archery.
Thus, shortly after the first ga began, she had already slipped away from the room once again.
Septa Mordane had been furious after noticing Arya's disappearance and eventually left personally to search for her, which was why she still had not returned.
Sansa naturally understood that once the septa ca back, her chance to continue enjoying Westerosi chess would disappear imdiately.
Because of this, she was especially unwilling to let Robb escape.
Unfortunately, Robb had already stood up completely.
"Father still asked to show Garon around Winterfell," he said firmly. "How can I stay here playing gas all afternoon?"
Then he turned and deliberately looked toward Garon with aningful eyes.
Understanding imdiately, Garon smiled cooperatively.
"That's true. Lord Stark did ask Robb to accompany ."
Then he looked toward Beth Cassel and Jeyne Poole standing nearby.
"Besides, Lady Sansa doesn't need to worry. I believe Lady Beth and Lady Jeyne would gladly continue playing with her."
The mont they were ntioned, both girls nodded eagerly.
Truthfully, after watching several matches already, they had beco extrely curious about the ga themselves.
Sansa glanced toward her companions and quickly noticed the excitent in their eyes.
After thinking briefly, she finally relented.
"Very well."
Seeing the matter settled, Garon smiled politely.
"Then I hope all of you enjoy yourselves."
With that, he prepared to leave alongside Robb.
However, just as he turned toward the doorway, Sansa suddenly called out softly behind him.
"Lord Garon."
Garon paused and looked back toward her with mild confusion.
"Yes, Lady Sansa?"
Sansa hesitated noticeably.
Her fingers unconsciously tightened slightly around one of the carved chess pieces before she finally spoke in a soft voice.
"I truly like your gift."
The words themselves were simple, yet the sincerity within them was obvious.
Looking at the faint blush spreading across Sansa's cheeks, Garon felt his heart stir slightly.
"I'm glad you like it," he replied warmly. "Then my efforts were not wasted."
His words carried deeper aning beneath the surface.
And the warmth within his gaze imdiately caused Sansa to lower her head shyly, avoiding his eyes altogether.
Nearby, Robb, Beth, and Jeyne exchanged amused looks almost instantly.
Soon afterward, Garon gave a polite bow before finally leaving the needlework room together with Robb.
As soon as they entered the corridor outside, Garon looked toward Robb with relaxed amusent.
"So, where are we going next?"
Robb had just opened his mouth to answer when sudden arguing erupted from inside the room they had just left.
Apparently, Beth and Jeyne had already begun quarreling over who would challenge Sansa first.
"I should play first!"
"No, I wanted to try before you!"
"Beth, you can't even beat Robb properly."
"Nonsense. You're the one who keeps losing to him!"
The mont the argunt reached his ears, Robb's face darkened instantly.
He already had a terrible feeling that news of him repeatedly losing to Sansa at chess would soon spread throughout all of Winterfell.
Beside him, Garon clearly realized the sa thing.
A peculiar smile imdiately appeared across his face.
"Good luck, Robb."
Robb shot him a speechless glare.
"This is all your fault."
Then, after a brief pause, curiosity resurfaced within his expression once more.
"By the way, you invented Westerosi chess yourself."
"That ans you definitely know winning strategies, right?"
Garon nodded calmly.
Although his chess skills from his previous life were hardly extraordinary, within Westeros they were already advanced enough to seem revolutionary.
The mont Robb saw him nod, his eyes lit up imdiately.
"You have to teach ."
Robb leaned closer and lowered his voice conspiratorially.
"As long as you teach how to defeat Sansa, I'll take you sowhere interesting."
Garon blinked in surprise.
"A good place?"
Robb only smiled mysteriously without explaining further.
Naturally, this only made Garon more curious.
"Fine," he agreed imdiately. "It's a deal."
"It's a deal," Robb replied with satisfaction.
Then he resud walking through the corridor.
"Co on. I'll show you your room first."
"If anything is missing, we can still have servants prepare it before the King arrives."
The two continued deeper into Winterfell's inner keep while chatting casually along the way.
As they approached the guest chambers, the number of servants moving throughout the corridors increased noticeably. Everyone was busy carrying blankets, candles, wine, and furnishings in preparation for the royal party's arrival.
After walking for roughly ten minutes, Robb finally stopped before one of the guest rooms prepared for Garon.
Yet just as they arrived outside the door, a mature female voice drifted clearly from the neighboring chamber.
"Maester Luwin, Lord Tyrion's room still needs more candles."
"I heard he often stays awake deep into the night reading."
The mont Robb heard the voice, recognition flashed across his face imdiately.
"Mother?"
Without hesitation, he quickly led Garon toward the adjacent room.
Inside, Catelyn Stark had been discussing preparations with Maester Luwin beside one of the guest beds.
Hearing Robb's voice, she turned instinctively.
At first, surprise appeared in her eyes.
Then she noticed the tall figure standing behind her son.
Instantly, her expression turned noticeably colder.
Naturally, Robb failed to notice the subtle change and smiled while introducing them.
"Mother, this is Garon Glover."
Then he turned toward Garon.
"Garon, this is my mother, Lady Catelyn, and beside her is Maester Luwin."
The mont he entered the room, Garon imdiately noticed both Catelyn Stark and Maester Luwin.
Without delay, he bowed politely.
"Good day, my lady. Good day, Maester Luwin."
Maester Luwin smiled gently and nodded.
"Good day, Lord Garon. I trust your journey from Deepwood Motte was not too exhausting."
Compared to the maester's kindness, however, Catelyn Stark rely stared coldly at Garon without speaking.
At that mont, Theon Greyjoy's earlier words resurfaced once more within her mind.
The image of Garon praising Jon Snow openly before the Stark children imdiately stirred fresh irritation within her chest.
A trace of unmistakable disgust flashed through her eyes.
In an instant, the atmosphere inside the room turned icy cold.
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