Light fell upon the dark blade, as if a mist had risen and wreathed the short sword. Valyrian steel contained a magical power that made one involuntarly lose themselves in its dreamlike hues.
'Pity it's not a longsword.'
William felt a slight regret. While a short sword could still be used for slashing, it wasn't as handy as a longsword.
Nevertheless, a satisfied smile appeared on his face. "Even though it's just a short sword, it's probably worth a fortune. I'll borrow it for a while."
"Please, keep it for as long as you find it suitable, Ser," Tobho's attitude was firm.
The substantial profits from the Valyrian steel dagger and the high fees paid by the three lords for the armor all stemmed from William's ideas. Although selling this short sword would net Tobho a few hundred gold dragons, compared to the prospect of future riches, he preferred to hold tight to William's golden touch.
William didn't stand on ceremony further and laughed heartily, making a mental note to compensate the shrewd smith in other ways in the future.
After leaving the smithy, William went to the Tyrell mansion to meet Margaery, planning to leave King's Landing directly through the Old Gate.
Margaery and her companions rode in a light carriage, each side panel carved with a large rose. Over a dozen elite cavalry escorted them, led by Ser Parmen Crane, the nephew of Highgarden's master-at-arms.
He was a young knight with a broad forehead and a straight nose, quite handsome.
William had sparred with Parmen more than once during his time in Highgarden and knew his martial skills were excellent; otherwise, he wouldn't have been chosen later as one of Renly's Rainbow Guard.
The previous journey from King's Landing to Harrenhal had been rushed due to Malora's urgency, mostly involving picnics and camping. This trip, however, was leisurely and comfortable. The Tyrell girls, who had never been north of King's Landing before, enthusiastically enjoyed the scenery along the way, arriving at the shores of the Gods Eye only five days later.
The vast lake stretched beyond sight, calm and immense, with a thin, smoke-like mist over the water. In the distance, at the horizon, water and sky merged into one.
The beautiful scenery lifted the girls' spirits, making them reluctant to leave. Seeing that they wouldn't reach the next town in time, Margaery decided to have lunch by the lake.
When the Whent guards unfolded the tents and brought out various cooking utensils and tableware, the Tyrell girls couldn't help but look on curiously. After trying them out, they praised the clever designs.
After lunch, William and Margaery, arm in arm, strolled casually near the camp. They walked along the lake shore and then towards the side near the main road. Coincidentally, a group of commoners driving ox-carts passed by in the distance, hurrying along with their elders and children in tow. They didn't look like refugees.
Margaery asked, "What are those people going to do?"
Before William could answer, a young guard who was packing his gear eagerly said, "Lady Margaery, I'll go ask!" He quickly jumped on his horse and galloped off towards the commoners.
William winked at Margaery, who smiled without a word, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks.
The story of the Magic Knight and the Rose of Highgarden was already widely known in the Reach. With William's return to Harrenhal, it had begun to spread in the Riverlands as well, and William's guards were very familiar with it.
Perhaps because there were no elders present, Margaery had stopped suppressing herself these past few days, seeming unrestrained and spending more and more time glued to William.
Although she always claimed she was practicing magic with him, to others, it didn't appear that way at all.
In just a few days, in the hearts of William's guards, this noble-born, beautiful, amiable Rose of Highgarden was already recognized as their future lady. Not only did they obey her every command, but they also strived to actively impress her in her presence.
Not long after, the guard returned. "Lady Margaery, those people are all heading to Harrentown for the market."
"But wasn't there a market in the town we passed earlier?" Margaery was puzzled, and William was also a bit confused; getting to Harrentown from here was much farther than going to that town.
The guard looked a little proud. "There is a market, but they don't have Mooncloth. Mooncloth is only sold in Harrentown."
"Mooncloth?"
"Mooncloth is cloth woven by machines."
"Machines?"
"Machines are..." The guard scratched his head and smiled sheepishly. "You'd better ask the Ser. I can't really explain it clearly."
Looking at the little rose's face full of question marks, William burst into laughter. "That's a long story. I'll take you to see it when we get to Harrenhal." Explaining this to someone with no background knowledge would indeed take quite a while.
He waved his hand, signaling the guard to continue packing and preparing to depart.
The two continued their stroll.
"Why is it called Mooncloth? It sounds very soft and beautiful."
"I actually came up with the name 'Mooncloth.' Sounds nice, doesn't it? It's essentially cotton cloth."
Margaery thought for a moment. "Cotton?"
William was somewhat surprised. "Correct." There wasn't much cotton in Westeros. The raw materials used by Harrenhal's weaving workshops were mostly imported from Essos. For the little rose to know that cotton could be woven into cloth indicated she was quite knowledgeable.
"Then it shouldn't be cheap, should it?"
"On the contrary, it's quite inexpensive." William couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. Even someone as intelligent as the little rose couldn't imagine the tremendous efficiency boost brought by mechanized production.
Although they deliberately controlled the supply, the cost-effectiveness of Mooncloth far surpassed that of cloth from family workshops woven by hand. Wherever Mooncloth was sold in large quantities, the traditional textile industry was severely impacted. The areas around Harrenhal suffered a devastating blow—hardly any handmade textiles circulated in the market anymore.
Because on one specific day each month, a certain quantity of Mooncloth was sold at the market in Harrentown, commoners preferred to endure the inconvenience of hunger marketing to wait and buy the more cost-effective Mooncloth. With no one buying, naturally, no one continued to produce.
After packing up, the group embarked on the final leg of their journey to their destination. William and the two guard captains rode at the front, with the carriage protected in the middle of the cavalry column.
The future Rainbow Guard squinted and observed the distance before turning to the guard captain beside him. "Ser Bennard, there's a cavalry unit ahead. They seem to be approaching us."
Bennard wasn't concerned. "No need to worry, Ser Parmen. In this area, the only cavalry operating are the Whent household guards."
Soon, Parmen could make out several golden banners flying high, rolling in the wind, the black bats on them seeming ready to take flight.
This was a typical unit of heavy cavalry. Both riders and horses were clad in armor. Their pace wasn't exceptionally fast, but the dull, continuous thunder of hooves and the blinding glare of sunlight reflecting off their armor and weapons created an imposing presence.
Parmen felt a sense of awe. This cavalry force numbered a full hundred. Not only were their warhorses sturdy and their equipment refined, but the knights themselves appeared highly skilled in horsemanship, valiant, and fierce.
Such a formidable troop was easily a match for the most elite cavalry from Highgarden.
The leader was Rosso, the cavalry captain William had personally promoted, who was utterly loyal to him. After ordering the cavalry to form an escort, Rosso fell in beside William, ready for orders.
Bennard leaned close and whispered a few words to him. Then, Rosso turned his horse and approached the carriage to greet Margaery.
Margaery remembered this knight who had fought alongside William until the very end. She smiled slightly. "Ser Rosso, hello! I remember you. Your performance at the tournament in Highgarden was quite impressive."
Rosso was flattered and a little awestruck. His demeanor towards Margaery held respect, but now held a touch more warmth.
After he returned, William asked, "Rosso, did you come out specifically to meet us?"
"No, Ser. This is routine training," Rosso replied honestly. "The cavalry's training intensity has returned to its previous level. Several squadrons go out from the castle to train every day."
"In that case," William glanced at the brilliant sunset clouds in the sky, "arriving at Harrenhal at this hour means you're bound to encounter returning cavalry, right?"
"Exactly. However, we rotate which squadrons go out, so which one you meet is unpredictable."
The awe from the elite cavalry was still fresh in Parmen's mind. Hearing this, he couldn't hide his surprise and couldn't resist asking, "Ser William, forgive my bluntness, but how many cavalry does Harrenhal maintain that are of the same caliber as those led by Ser Rosso?"
Seeing no need to conceal this information, William replied casually, "Just over a thousand."
This number was nearly equivalent to Highgarden's standing cavalry force, and their equipment and training seemed, if anything, superior. Parmen was genuinely taken aback. Had the Riverlands become this prosperous and powerful?