[Chapter Size: 2900 Words.]

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Thrid Person POV

Westeros, 295 AC.

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Jon approached calmly and stopped in front of the family. A silence seemed to envelop the atmosphere for a few seconds, while both parties assessed each other. Mace Tyrell, as the official representative of Hightower, should have initiated the introductions as the host, but he remained staring at the boy from the north with his mouth slightly open.

After all, Mace had not expected anything he had heard, aside from some rumors. Even the boy’s strange attire caught his attention, having never seen anything like it, with Jon choosing neutral colors with his black and white outfit, much like his wife beside him, unlike the colorful garments that all the nobles of Westeros liked to wear—after all, colors signify beauty among the nobility.

Willas, seeing the silence, decided to take the initiative to introduce instead of his father, although it was a breach of decorum, he had to start, and being the heir of Highgarden, it would not be a problem.

Clearing his throat, he addressed Jon: “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Artican.” He began, looking at Jon with a respectful nod. “My name is Willas Tyrell, heir of Highgarden. It is an honor to have a man like you, who has lately been making news throughout Westeros.” He spoke calmly and then continued after the initial greeting.

Pointing his hand towards his brother beside him, “This is my brother, Garlan Tyrell, also a brave knight, who, incidentally, won the current melee combat in our tournament, bringing honors to our house and to my father.” He spoke, while Garlan himself nodded with a slight movement of his head, looking at Jon with a calm and even calculative glance. Jon responded in kind.

Willas did not stop there, pointing to the girl at the other end of the line. “This is my sister,” Willas began, “Lady Margaery Tyrell, the flower of the family.” He introduced her as the girl picked up her dress from side to side and raised it with a light curtsy and a smile, keeping her eyes fixed on Jon’s. Jon also nodded to her.

Willas had to turn his attention back to his parents due to Mace’s stalling, with a bit of embarrassment, after all, this was a huge breach of decorum. “These are my mother, Alerie Tyrell, and my father, the patriarch of Highgarden, Mace Tyrell.” Willas said.

Mace heard that and finally snapped out of his daze, clearing his throat a bit more formally. “Yes, yes, that’s right. Well, it’s a pleasure.” He said, ending with a bit of a stumble.

Jon nodded and decided to speak for the first time, “It is a pleasure to meet you all, Lord Willas, Lord Garlan, Lady Margaery, Lady Alerie, and Lord of Hightower, Mace Tyrell.” He introduced himself and began to introduce the people behind him.

“I am Jon Ártica, sovereign king of Ártica.” Jon spoke without hesitation, after all, he was a monarch and, even though others called him Lord, he could not deny that he was one—what kind of king would he be if he hesitated to say that he was responsible for an entire kingdom?

It was somewhat amusing to see how the people in front of him frowned or were surprised to hear this. But without dwelling on it more, Jon continued, trying to be polite and rational, even as a king: “I may be a king, but you can still consider me Lord Artican, after all, these lands are not my domain and I am here on business, not to prove things that I consider important only for my people.” Jon spoke.

“Now let me introduce my ladies beside me, this is my first wife, Seryna Ártica, and beside her, as many of you must know, is my sister, Arya Stark.” He introduced.

“How beautiful…” Lady Alerie couldn’t help commenting in front of these two women.

“Thank you for coming to us, my lord.” Willas spoke again, while his father still frowned. “I would like to take you to a place where we can have a private conversation, after all, we are interested in your business in Westeros.” He spoke.

“Alright, but I’d like to organize my men so they’re not just standing around at the entrance of the castle, if possible,” Jon said.

“Yes, my Lord, we will see to that immediately,” he said and spoke to a steward who approached and whispered about the areas where they could settle in during their visit.

“We have an open space near the tent area, but a bit away from the tournament,” Willas said. After all, all the best spots were taken by the main nobles and it would not be wise to mix this foreign company with the kingdom’s nobles.

“I understand. Can you lead my men to the spot?” Jon asked as he called a royal guard.

“Take them to the spot,” Willas said as the steward nodded.

“Yes, my lord,” he said, looking cautiously at the group.

“Escort our men to the spot, just leave the wagon with goods,” Jon told a royal guard, who nodded, as he could handle any confusion or problem that might arise while settling in.

“That’s great, let’s proceed then,” Willas said and Jon nodded as they headed towards the castle, while only the ministers would accompany Jon with four royal guards, plus some soldiers with the merchandise.

Meanwhile, the Ártican group began to turn and move towards the opposite side of the castle, and this did not go unnoticed by everyone. After all, there were hundreds or even thousands of eyes as they made their way into the middle of the courtyard, with everyone watching.

And so, the commotion began anew as the Ártican company again passed through the gate. The giants were making the ground tremble again and people continued to look on in admiration, seeing those creatures passing through the gate that hardly seemed to contain them.

While Jon was accompanying the Tyrells, introducing them inside Highgarden, people began to disperse, starting their tasks. After all, the Tyrells had also issued orders to assist their new guests as guests, to make a good impression. Meanwhile, the soldiers performed a choreography leaving the area and the servants began to work, heading to the kitchen to prepare some food and stay attentive to any orders from their lords. The Ártican soldiers began to head towards the crowd of nobles in front of the encampment.

The steward of Highgarden was accompanied by Tyrell soldiers as they began to lead the group through the crowd among the houses, which quickly began to make way for them to go towards the area designated to them.

They finally arrived at a spot a little distant from the rest of the tents, heading towards a corner a bit further from the event area, but the terrain was good with trimmed grass and flat.

“So, is this the area?” the royal guard asked.

The steward nodded. “Yes, sir,” he spoke respectfully.

“I am not a ‘sir.’ Ziller, the royal knight obeying Jon, spoke and continued, “After all, we do not have knights in our religion. Just call me Ziller,” he clarified, since Ártica never produced a knight and perhaps never will unlike the southern culture, and almost no knights are named in the north.

“I heard the war games are over… It’s a shame we can’t kick the southerners’ butts yet,” suddenly Tormund’s voice was heard, causing the steward to frown with the Tyrell soldiers beside him and Ziller looked at the rough man.

“You have to be respectful, Tormund,” Ziller spoke sternly.

“Alright, alright, I get it. Is it true that people call themselves flowers here? But that seems so weak. What can a flower do? If they are a flower, then I am a block of ice, no, I am an iceberg,” he began to speak again, laughing, while the royal guard started to get annoyed with his tongue.

“Can you keep quiet for a bit, Tormund? Don’t you see we are in foreign lands?” He warned sternly.

“Whatever, let’s start setting up the camp,” Tormund said and looked at a giant. “Hey, can I have one of your tents? They are quite spacious,” he clamored to the armored giant, who moved his head and shook it no, after all, he did not want to give his tent to the talkative red-haired man.

“Damn, I’m going to ask our king for one next time I see him,” Tormund murmured.

“How about you take one of mine, you supposed giant’s teat sucker?” a dwarf teased as he approached.

“Hey, do I look like a dog to you?” He complained.

“Do you want to get hit again, don’t you?” the dwarf threatened.

“Do you want to feel the fear of my axe?” Tormund challenged.

“Haha, you talk as if you could beat us,” the dwarf retorted.

“What a pain…” Ziller was already getting a headache from dealing with these people.

Meanwhile, they began to set up the giant tents, pulling their enormous dwellings from the wagons while others did the same, organizing the area where the horses and all the supplies would stay. Many people looked on, even children tried to approach the site.

The camp was soon erected quite quickly, even displaying much of the Ártican wealth, as their white tents with fabric patched in the north were raised and the proud Ártican flag flew in the wind at that moment.

“Hey, look at that! What material is that, it looks so luxurious… They sleep in places like this…” someone murmured, looking at the quality of the tents.

“It’s not just that, look where the giants sleep! I thought they would sleep on the street.” Another said.

“They are so rich… We can benefit from this, can’t we?” Another spoke.

“Of course we can, besides they are from the north, we can rob them and they won’t be able to do anything!” Someone said, already hoping to have a chance to grab their weapons with the greenish metal.

At the same time, Jon entered the castle with the Tyrells leading them, finding the place quite pleasant before his eyes. After all, the Tyrells were not poor and they really knew how to decorate the place with flowers and plants all over, being well-maintained while the pleasant and fragrant smell filled the air.

They continued until they reached a room that, undoubtedly, looked like an audience hall, but was certainly empty, except for a few people that Jon was not surprised to find. At least not the case of the lady sitting on one of the benches, the famous Queen of Thorns, Olenna Tyrell sitting obediently waiting for them.

“You finally arrived. I was already starting to get a pain in my ass from the delay,” As a sarcastic woman, Olenna didn’t waste time and spoke in this tone, while Arya next to Jon grimaced, his wife looked at Jon with furrowed brows and Jon raised an eyebrow, he had heard of this woman, but never imagined encountering something like this.

“Mom, don’t talk like that to the guests…” Mace Tyrell, already accustomed to Jon, said.

“Don’t be boring, Mace. I’m sure the guests can very well understand the pains of an old woman.” Olenna spoke without any shame as they looked at Jon.

“Well, let me introduce our grandmother,” Willas said, trying to regain a bit of dignity after Olenna’s indelicate words.

“Oh, don’t be like that, Willas,” she spoke before he could finish, “I’m sure our guests wouldn’t mind it. I’m sure they’re used to a bit of harshness, after all, they come from that frozen desert. Have you ever seen anyone like that? I’m seeing it for the first time now, It’s certainly a slap in the face of most of these nobles who thought only savages lived there, but compared to our guests, they look like mere peasants.” She commented sarcastically as Jon didn’t even know what to say about this woman. After all, she was quite bold. “Haha. It was funny to see their faces as you arrived, it’s worth a few years at the end of mine here, so thank you for giving this old lady a bit of fun.” She and looked at Jon’s clothes.

“Your fashion is quite peculiar, I’ve never seen anyone in clothes so tight to the body, but it’s quite stylish, look at this, Willas, you could learn something from this Jon Ártica.” She smiled and turned back to the woman beside Jon.

“And to think he would bring a winter rose, one so beautiful it could make all the ladies of Westeros jealous, you found this rare gem in that desert, maybe I should take some vacation in this Ártica, I might even improve my skin and get a bit younger, maybe Mace can get a stepfather.” She commented, leaving everyone embarrassed, especially Mace who looked incredulously at his mother.

“State your name, my girl?” she asked Seryna.

“Seryna Ártica,” Seryna responded cautiously.

“Seryna? A good name. You are expecting a child from the King of Ártica, possibly the heir,” she commented, looking at the swell of Seryna’s belly, leaving her speechless with the lady’s remarks.

“And the other woman, are you really a Stark? Your father is so ugly, no offense, but I hope you take after your mother… No, you are much more beautiful than that since I last saw a Tully,” she said, leaving Arya equally speechless, which was hard to do, but this woman was as thorny as her rumors suggested.

“I never imagined hearing a Stark described as beautiful as I’m seeing now, perhaps many years ago when Rhaegar had taken Lyanna Stark, after all for a prince of the realm to take a northern woman, I cannot describe her beauty, it’s a shame I didn’t pay much attention to her at the Harrenhal tournament,” she commented, causing everyone to frown, as this was a delicate subject and she seemed not to care about speaking so lightly.

“Grandmother…” Willas had to call her attention, fearing that Jon might be offended by her words.

“Oh, sorry,” she spoke as if she had just realized her words. “Now, returning to our king from beyond the wall, you certainly are handsome, perhaps unlike Arya Stark, you certainly take after your father, very handsome,” she said with a knowing look.

Jon did not respond, despite feeling there was much more to her words, he sensed how this woman liked to act and how truly dangerous she was just by listening to her at this moment.

“Ahh where are my manners!” She continued, looking at two other men who were near her, frowning just like the others after all her speeches.

“Well, as you can see, here are Lord Paxter Redwyne and Lord Leyton Hightower, who will also participate in the meeting. I hope this does not offend you, after all, we are in a negotiation that could create a big deal in the realm,” she said with a forced smile.

Willas heard his grandmother finally stop speaking and sighed, turning his attention back to Jon. “I hope it’s not a problem, and that you weren’t offended by my grandmother’s words…” he said to Jon at the entrance with his group.

“No problems…” Jon spoke, looking at Lord Redwyne and Lord Hightower, nodding his head as they did the same. He was considering that the lords would be important for his business. Unlike Dorne, there were many important lords here, although Dorne sent some members from powerful families once they knew about the negotiations happening in Sunspear, here there was a tournament, so certainly the most important ones would not miss this meeting and would even push to be in it, guessing also that many of them even tried, but in the end did not make it, giving importance only to the main members.

“…And no offense was taken, Lord Willas,” he said regarding Lady Olenna’s comments, which even left him speechless and disconcerted at times, not finding anyone with such a sharp tongue. There were many venomous tongues in his path, Oberyn, Cersei, and other council members in King’s Landing, but this woman knew how to be non-offensive and offensive at the same time trying to disconcert her listener. This could be said of his sister and even Seryna, Jon really frowned, but tried to stay firm against this woman’s words.

Taking his eyes off the lords who looked at them with interest, like all others being greatly surprised by the aspect of the Ártican group, Jon turned his attention back to the lady, clearly she was the one commanding this meeting, at least his future clients and waited for her to continue.

Olenna maintained the tight smile still looking at Jon with interest. “Well, let’s get this started,” Olenna spoke again with sarcasm, “before my spine starts to rot if you make me wait too long.”

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