Westeros.
The Stormlands.
The Isle of Tarth.
Zhao Xuan's head throbbed violently.
Part of it came from nearly drowning.The rest came from the surge of unfamiliar memories flooding his mind.
This was the world of Game of Thrones.
And more than that, he had become Garon of Tarth.
Held tightly in his father's arms, Garon shifted slightly and turned his head. A small girl with pale golden hair and freckles clung to his left arm, crying without restraint.
She was only four years old, yet already sturdily built for her age.
Brienne of Tarth.
The realization felt unreal.
Before transmigrating, Zhao Xuan had lived an ordinary life. He had little presence within his family and few close friends. Reading novels and watching foreign television series had been his escape. Game of Thrones had been his favorite, so much so that he later read A Song of Ice and Fire as well.
Now he was here.
Instead of fear, he felt relief.
This world had dragons, magic, Essos, Asshai, and countless lands shrouded in mystery. It was far more fascinating than Earth. More importantly, he finally had a family.
Even if Brienne would one day become the infamous Maid of Tarth, she was still his sister.
And he was now the heir of Evenfall Hall, son of Lord Selwyn Tarth, a noble of the Stormlands.
He was not starting from nothing.
As his resistance faded, the memories of Garon Tarth fully merged with his own.
"Father… I'm fine," Garon said weakly, patting his father's back.
Lord Selwyn stiffened.
Only then did he loosen his grip. The composure he usually maintained had vanished, replaced by lingering fear and relief.
Feeling the chill in his son's body, Selwyn immediately removed his black velvet cloak and wrapped it around Garon.
"We're returning to the castle," Selwyn said firmly. "Maester Aemon will examine you at once."
Before Selwyn could lift him, Garon spoke again.
"Wait, Father."
Without explaining, Garon took a few unsteady steps forward. He knelt beside the reef where he had been dragged from the sea and reached into the wet sand and shallow water.
A faint light flickered.
When Garon raised his hand, the surroundings fell silent.
What emerged from the water was a sword unlike any ordinary weapon.
The blade emitted a gentle green-blue glow, like moonlight reflected on the sea at night. Along its edges ran two thin orange-red lines, resembling the horizon just before sunrise.
The guard and hilt were forged from an ivory-white material, smooth as polished bone yet cold and hard like steel. An oval dark-blue gem was embedded in the pommel, encircled by tiny, indecipherable markings.
The sword was impossibly light.
No one could read the inscriptions.
Yet everyone knew its name, as if the words were whispered directly into their souls.
Maiden of Justice.
"H–holy sword!"
"The Sword of Morning Light!"
"It's the Maiden of Justice!"
Knights and guards dropped to one knee, staring at Garon in disbelief.
No one had expected this.
The young master had fallen into the sea and returned holding the holy sword of legend.
"Brother! Father! Maiden of Justice!"
Brienne tugged at Lord Selwyn's cloak excitedly, pointing at the sword with tear-filled eyes.
Lord Selwyn stood frozen, unable to speak.
Claude the steward stared as well, shock slowly turning into elation.
Garon, however, was not looking at the sword.
He was looking at something else.
A translucent blue panel floated before his eyes.
Name: Garon Tarth
Title: None
Strength: 3.12Agility: 4.01Spirit: 12.8Magic: 0
Skills:Swordsmanship: 3%
Archery: 7%
Horsemanship: 4%
Common Tongue: 27%
Swimming: 29%
Bloodlines: Duskstar Bloodline: 3% Targaryen Bloodline: 0% Storm King Bloodline: 1%
Weapon: Maiden of Justice
Quality: Gold
State: Maximum
Judgment Points: 0
Garon stared at the panel.
There was no voice and no explanation.
Only cold information.
The symbols beside the attributes and bloodlines did not respond.
At the bottom of the panel was a single line.
Judgment Points: 0.
Garon instinctively understood that this panel was connected to the sword in his hand.
According to legend, Maiden of Justice had been bestowed by the Maiden of the Seven upon Garon the Morning Light.
Garon lowered his gaze to the blade.
Its glow was calm, like the sky after a storm.
On the pommel, a short inscription was engraved.
Just Maid.
There was no doubt.
This was the legendary holy sword.
He remembered diving into the flooded sea cave, seeing the light, and gripping the sword with everything he had.
Refusing to let go.
Testing it carefully, Garon swung the sword.
A sharp sound rang out.
The reef beside him split cleanly in two.
The cut surface was smooth as glass.
Garon stood silently.
This was beyond Valyrian steel.
He had not only survived.
He had inherited a legend.