"Highgarden."
The King's voice echoed through the hall.
"Your next target is Highgarden. You will depart tomorrow morning."
Upon hearing the name Highgarden, Loras Tyrell's pupils instantly dilated, his face draining of color and filling with ashen despair.
Highgarden!
As the commander of the Ninth Regiment, he was well aware of the formidable power of the Kingsguard.
Having witnessed the shattering and collapse of one sturdy castle after another, the nightmare of beautiful Highgarden turning into decaying ruins haunted his mind, growing ever deeper with each conquest.
Now, was the nightmare about to become reality?!
At this moment, Loras disregarded protocol and stepped forward to plead, "Your Grace, please—"
"Don't be hasty," Joffrey interrupted the flustered Kingsguard. "Have you forgotten your duty? Be quiet. I haven't finished speaking."
Loras could only forcefully suppress the urgency burning in his heart.
Joffrey continued calmly, "Leo Tyrell, a scholar from the Citadel, has already been dispatched to Highgarden as a messenger, conveying the goodwill and peaceful intentions of the royal family to House Tyrell."
With the counsel of Leo and myself, would the Queen of Thorns still turn a blind eye?
"If Highgarden reaffirms its allegiance to the Iron Throne and agrees to a marriage alliance, you will serve as an envoy to welcome Queen Margaery, as well as guards to escort Ser Garlan Tyrell to receive the Shield Islands fleet."
A marriage alliance with Highgarden? Queen Margaery?
The Shield Islands fleet?
Ser Garlan Tyrell?
The sheer volume of information stunned everyone present!
What about Lady Sansa?
The generals hailing from the Northern Three Kingdoms were even more apprehensive.
Loras's expression shifted constantly.
Hearing the names of his elder brother and younger sister from the King's mouth, he initially felt a sense of relief, followed by an indescribable bitterness and heaviness.
His sister's marriage was being arbitrarily manipulated, and his elder brother would likely become a hostage.
The outcome was quite humiliating.
But at least, the King had not resolved to exterminate them completely. Perhaps this was already the best possible outcome.
"If things do not go smoothly..."
Joffrey looked at the commander of the Eighth Regiment, the former Captain of the Gates of the Moon, "Ironhand" Jace Lywood. "There's no need to force Ser Loras to make a difficult choice. Jace, you shall take over."
"Ironhand" placed his hands across his chest and replied in a deep voice, "As Your Grace commands."
It was obvious.
The title "Ironhand" was no longer suitable for the current Jace Lywood.
The priest had used divine grace to restore his severed hand.
At that moment, he had never felt so complete and satisfied, as if he had fulfilled his lifelong wish, with no regrets.
Afterward, the iron prosthetic hand that had accompanied him for nearly a decade was decisively thrown into the Blackwater Rush, never to be seen again. Only the title "Ironhand" remained.
After all, this title was a testament to that era of blood and fire, a symbol of scars and glory.
From that moment on, "Ironhand" had completely surrendered his will.
Regardless of the reason, how could he refuse the orders of His Grace the King? Even if it meant destroying the illustrious Highgarden, let alone merely crushing the fragile rose.
Loras stared intently at his colleague, a former gold cloak captain whom he had once disdained.
But at this moment, Loras saw the determination in "Ironhand's" eyes. As long as King Joffrey gave the order, this man would dare to shake Highgarden to its foundations!
Loras was horrified to realize this.
He absolutely could not allow that nightmare to become reality! Loras immediately resolved that he must persuade his grandmother, the Queen of Thorns.
They really couldn't afford to anger King Joffrey any further; Highgarden couldn't withstand the bombardment of cannons.
Joffrey continued to issue orders, "Lord Beric Dondarrion, Thoros of Myr, you two are responsible for accompanying Ser Garlan Tyrell to the Shield Islands to receive and integrate their fleet."
The two stepped forward simultaneously and respectfully accepted the order.
Joffrey smiled slightly, "Loras's Ninth Regiment will be temporarily placed under your command. Bring two hundred cannon cores to rearm the Shield Islands fleet."
The two thanked him and did not forget to glance at Loras.
Loras remained silent.
The strength of the Ninth Regiment, with its one thousand holy warriors, was significant and hard to part with, but what could he do?
Everyone knew that the Kingsguard would only truly obey King Joffrey and the Commander-in-Chief, "The Hound." His command was only effective in ordinary times.
At critical moments, no one would be wholeheartedly loyal to him personally.
"Loras."
The King's voice drew Loras to look up.
Joffrey asked as if casually, "Do you want to continue leading the Ninth Regiment to the Shield Islands, or are you willing to stay in Highgarden for a while longer, to reunite with your family?"
Loras's mind immediately raced, pondering the King's true intentions and how he should answer.
What was the correct answer?
Was this a trap, a test, or just an ordinary question?
Not daring to hesitate for too long, he could only cautiously reply in a low voice, "I beseech Your Grace to allow me to stay in Highgarden, to convey your will to my home, to foster a close alliance between our houses, and to bring peace and prosperity to the Seven Kingdoms."
Joffrey nodded with satisfaction.
"That you have this heart shows that I have not valued and nurtured you in vain."
"Thank you for your concern, Your Grace. Loras will do his utmost to live up to your expectations." Loras was filled with gratitude, but he couldn't help but wonder what he had been valued and nurtured for.
Divine Grace?
This power had already been bestowed upon thousands upon thousands of people, and it was continuously increasing.
Kingsguard?
There were fewer of them, but there were still dozens, which could hardly be considered special attention.
Commander of the Kingsguard?
If he could truly command them as he wished, it would indeed be a great favor. But the reality was that the King could take away all the warriors with a single word.
Loras understood that if it weren't for the Tyrell family behind him, he might not even have received Divine Grace. To speak of valuing him was to value and covet the strength of Highgarden, which was by no means a good thing.
A hidden light flashed in Joffrey's eyes. "Talent like yours deserves more nurturing, a higher position."
Loras suddenly felt an ominous premonition in his heart.
"Loras Tyrell, hear me. I hereby appoint you as the Governor of Highgarden, to manage and coordinate the affairs of the Reach, to appease the people, and to care for House Tyrell. In case of major events, you may report directly to me."
The crowd immediately erupted in an uproar!
Governor of Highgarden! Unlike any previous governor, this appointment was enough to completely shake the Seven Kingdoms! It was also a great blessing for Loras himself!
People looked at the newly born lucky one with envy, jealousy, or concern, thinking that Highgarden was about to change forever.
Loras stared blankly at the composed King, his mind in a state of chaos, unable to react or know what expression to make.
At this moment.
The faces of Highgarden appeared in his mind one after another, and finally, it was the kind smile of his elder brother, Willas.
Recalling the beautiful times when his elder brother limped and played with him, Loras really couldn't dare to imagine what Willas's expression would be when they met again.
Governor of Highgarden?
Highgarden should belong to Willas; everyone knew that his elder brother was the heir to Highgarden.
Joffrey was very satisfied with Loras's reaction.
The deeper the Tyrell brothers' feelings, the more unstable the rule of Highgarden would be, and the more chaotic the succession.
Loving and killing each other was more fun.
Joffrey smiled faintly. Storm's End, Old Oak, and Highgarden, the three core areas of the war, had all been arranged, leaving only the last one.
The thirty thousand from Stonebridge, south of King's Landing.