Chapter 367: Ah! The Golden Legend

After Lyonel spoke, he quickly straightened his posture. King Renly and Queen Margaery were waving to the audience, and as the prince, he had to stand beside Renly with a forced smile on his face, unable to move freely during the tournament.

Wright had it much easier. In front of the main platform were Renly and Margaery, Westerland Lord Jaime, and Princess Nymeria of Dorne. Wright, citing magic-related matters, slipped to the back row, giving his seat to the newlywed Willen, so he could have some time to get closer to Renly.

"Where are you going, kid? Come here!" As Wright saw Sauron try to sneak away after exchanging pleasantries, he waved him over.

Sauron, Lilith, and Baemon reluctantly walked up to Wright. "Father, Sister Rosamund."

Rosamund was sitting beside Wright. She shifted slightly to make room, pulling Lilith to sit with her. "Hmm~~ Lilith, smells like sulfur again."

"Has Sansa and Meredyth not arrived yet?" Lilith snuggled into Rosamund's arms.

"They're both Skinchangers. With the Three-Eyed Raven unlocking his inheritance, they've gone to Winterfell in the North."

Wright pointed to the golden staff in Sauron's hand. "You've played with it enough, hurry up and give your gift to Rosamund."

Except for Prince Lyonel and Geralt, the other children were still young, so Wright hadn't crafted Valyrian steel weapons for them, and they usually used regular fine steel ones. After all the trouble, Sauron still hadn't had enough fun and held the staff with both hands, offering it to Rosamund.

"Happy wedding, Sister Rosamund."

"Thank you, Sauron. Thank you, teacher." Rosamund stood up and received the gift with both hands. Having lived with Wright for many years, she knew that when Wright gave a gift, he didn't like refusals.

The golden staff was too eye-catching. Everyone on the platform turned to look as Rosamund accepted the gift, and applause began.

The golden staff, which reached up to her chest, didn't feel as heavy as she imagined. Rosamund gently stroked it, carefully observing the staff.

The golden staff wasn't made of gold but rather Valyrian steel, which had been specially dyed gold. A giant dragon was intricately sculpted and wrapped around it. One end was smooth, intended for support, while the other had a finely crafted lion's head, with a yellow gem embedded in its open mouth. It was a magnificent magical staff.

Seeing the envious glances around her, Wright felt his craftsmanship had been recognized. "Try infusing it with magic."

Rosamund nodded and gripped the staff, channeling magic. The yellow gem began to glow. "This!"

Changing her grip, Rosamund held the lion's head with her right hand. Click. Internal metal mechanisms moved, and she raised her hand slowly to reveal a golden needle-like sword hidden inside the staff.

Wright, looking calm as ever, explained, "This weapon is both a staff and a dagger. The staff can cast wide-area healing magic, and when the dagger strikes an enemy, it will also release healing spells."

"Huh? So it doesn't kill, then?"

"It'll make a hole, but as soon as the sword is pulled out, the wound will immediately heal. What's this? A pointless stab?"

The surrounding nobles began murmuring. Weapons were supposed to kill, not be like this.

"Thank you very much, Master. This weapon is perfect for me." Rosamund closed the dagger and bowed to Wright.

Her healing talent was exceptional. While studying in Tyrosh, she had traveled around, curing people. Beautiful with golden hair, she was often called the Golden Saintess.

Her martial skills were no slouch either. The training for healing mages was brutal, with every blow potentially lethal. Against undead creatures, healing magic could sometimes be even stronger than destructive magic. During training, Rosamund had once used a close-range healing barrier to crush a skeletal giant from Qyburn into dust.

"This is yours now. Have you thought of a name for it? Look, they're all waiting." Wright pointed to the maester and scribes who had come over with paper and pens.

Rosamund shook her head. "I don't plan to name it. Whatever the people of Westerland call it, that will be its name."

Another round of applause. Rosamund's new husband, Willen, walked over to thank Wright.

"The Lannister family was supposed to have three Valyrian steel swords. Besides the lost Brightroar, your wife now has one. Willen, you must find the Sun's Maiden as soon as possible," Renly said, patting Willen's shoulder.

Willen stopped, facing Renly. "I will recover the Sun's Maiden and avenge the Lannisters and all the nobles of Westerland!"

Jaime Lannister, who had been deeply affected by the betrayal of his closest people and the near destruction of his entire family, rarely spoke these days. His condition had worsened over the years, often wearing Cersei's dresses while punching and kicking his wooden bed, now known as the Mad Lion.

Tyrion knew that if he, a dwarf, inherited Casterly Rock, the Westerland nobility would rise in revolt. He was well aware of Jaime's past actions, but now, he didn't even want to see him. After all, he was the second son, and things were going well in King's Landing, where he had become the Master of Laws. With some more effort, perhaps a dwarf could become the King's Hand someday.

The main branch of House Lannister, Tywin's line, has been abolished, and the title of Lord was passed down to Tywin's brother Kevan's line. His eldest son, Lancel, has already betrayed humanity and become a vampire, while his second son, Willen, currently manages the affairs of the Westerlands as the acting lord of Casterly Rock.

The young knights of the Westerlands who once embarked on the campaign to the Riverlands have now reached their prime years, becoming the backbone of their respective families. They all still remember the chaotic battlefield of the Twins, where Jaime stayed at the sidelines while Willen raised the golden lion banner and led them in successive charges. He also defeated multiple forces while rescuing the nobility of the Riverlands, earning them unparalleled glory.

Renly's words earlier were a promise. He had married Rosamund, one of Wright's direct apprentices, and once he avenged the Westerland nobility and reclaimed the Sun's Maiden, reaching the peak of his reputation, it would be the day he officially became the heir of the Westerlands—a universally recognized successor.

Seeing so many people gathering around, Wright also felt it was time to stand. He turned to Willen and said, "The awakening of the Three-Eyed Raven's Inheritance means the passing of the previous generation. Winter has arrived, and the snow line is nearly reaching Casterly Rock. The White Walkers and vampires will definitely seize this opportunity."

Willen placed his hand on his chest. "The Westerlands will send the most elite knights! We will fight for humanity!"

Wright had no response to Willen, who mirrored him in almost everything. Although Willen did not practice magic, he carefully studied Wright's various deeds from his youth, learning from his thought process and behavior. The results were evident, and the Westerlands had developed rapidly in recent years.

"You should focus on getting your bride pregnant first, haha," Margaery teased. She never spoke on matters of the kingdom, but when it came to the noblewoman's duty of childbearing, she certainly wouldn't hold back.

"Ha ha," Willen chuckled. He already had an illegitimate daughter with his public lover, Cerenna Lannister, and there were no issues in that regard.

"Oh!" A cheer and applause erupted in the arena as a knight clad in full armor entered. He did not ride in on a horse, but walked in through the main gate instead.

There were several different heights of barricades placed by the gate. He chose the highest one, bracing himself with one hand and flying up with his legs spread apart. While his body was suspended in mid-air, he swung his sword in a stunning display, leaping over the barricades with an elegant flourish, earning cheers and screams from the ladies in the crowd.

The tournament finals began.

"I'm going to find Quaithe!" Taking advantage of the distraction, Sauron said quickly before running off.

In a warehouse at Lannisport, Tyene was surrounded by a dozen or so mages. The shortest among them was Tyene, who was at the center of the group.

The ever-present figure in black robes with a red Quaithe mask raised a hand. Dark, smoke-like magic floated towards the crates. After a few sounds, the lids of the crates were lifted by the black mist and floated to the side.

"This batch of spider silk from Castle Black is problematic. It was once pure and flawless, but now it contains traces of dark magic."

Tyene poked the tangled silk with her hand, which felt soft and as if nothing had changed. "Did the shadowbinders from Asshai make this?"

"No! This is something I've never seen before—darkness, coldness, and death!" Tyene saw the bloodshot eyes beneath Quaithe's red mask, and she was terrified.