The long tables used for the banquet were moved away, and the nobles retreated to both sides, making the large ballroom immediately spacious, even empty.
The chandeliers above the ballroom illuminated the hall brightly, almost like daytime.
The House Tyrell and Jon's people stood beneath their respective banners, and the center of the ballroom seemed to unfold a giant chessboard.
If one looked closely, they would notice that the Tyrell side's attire was primarily teal, while Jon's side was diverse, without a unified color scheme.
This further created a sense of clear distinction.
Both opposing sides had sent out their 'vanguards,' ready to engage in a unique confrontation.
In the center of the ballroom, Miss Margaery, in a long teal dress, lifted her skirt and bowed to the Duke in front of her, who was wearing a blue-grey coat. With her movement, the emerald on her neck also reflected a glow.
The vibrant green gem complemented her fair skin, and the curve of her waist and slender neck seemed to showcase why she could be the 'rose of highgarden.'
The surrounding musicians also played music at the opportune moment, but neither side was very relaxed; rather than music, it sounded more like a battle horn.
Their hands gently rested on each other's shoulders and waists, but they were mostly suspended, feeling no weight at all.
As the music played and their dance steps flew, Jon caught a fresh, sweet scent. Miss Margaery's dance steps were light and practiced, and she quickly found an opportunity to speak: "Lord Stark, your dance steps—"
"—are very powerful."
"Powerful?" Jon didn't know if Miss Margaery had a hidden meaning, whether she was implying his dance steps were a bit clumsy, or alluding to what had just happened between him and her cousin.
He still formulated an answer based on his own understanding, looking into the young girl's brown eyes and saying, "Power and gentleness, these are all relative."
"Please enlighten me, Lord Stark."
"Where there is a front, there is a back; where there is strength, there is weakness; where there is a king, there are subjects; where there is a leader, there are those who are led. I am dancing with a beautiful young girl. If I were dancing with a giant, then I would seem gentle."
Jon's slightly humorous explanation made Miss Margaery smile radiantly. "Lord Stark, a unique insight."
"Lord Stark." Hearing Miss Margaery address him this way again, Jon felt a slight stir in his heart. Most others referred to him as "Lord Jon," "Duke Jon," or "Lord Duke"; very few called him "Lord Stark."
She must have put effort into studying him, at least considering what a bastard whose fate had suddenly changed would want. She was a clever person.
One could say she was almost the smartest girl Jon had met since coming to this world. Since she was clever, many things could be simpler.
Skip the probing and entanglement, and directly exchange bottom lines to see if they could be accepted.
After a spin, Jon adjusted his angle and asked, "Miss Margaery, could I speak with you alone later? I'd like to take a walk in the garden with you."
Miss Margaery didn't expect Jon's pace to suddenly quicken. She paused for a moment but quickly adapted. "Hehe, Duke Stark, you seem a bit impatient. Most girls don't like being asked questions."
Miss Margaery's eyes were bright, and her tone carried a playful, slightly provocative edge, yet it was impossible to dislike her.
"Then—I'm going to the garden. Come with me!"
"Hmm—that's a bit too forceful."
"I'm going to the garden. Do you want to come with me?"
"Another question."
Jon quickly thought and said, "I'm going to the garden, but it would certainly be dull without you."
"Lord Stark truly lives up to his reputation as a victorious general. But how will you get me out?"
Miss Margaery guided Jon's gaze towards the House Tyrell. Jon immediately saw Mace, whose face was dark and who looked as if he wanted to devour him alive.
Mace not only stared at him like a brown bear at a cave entrance but also whispered something to his guards and his son Garlan.
Most likely, it was to prevent Jon from 'eloping' with his daughter and to set up numerous 'fortifications.'
"That's no difficult task for a general who has won a hundred battles," Jon said confidently, his breathing calm and unwavering.
Miss Margaery merely nodded. It was clear her stamina was flagging a bit; completing a dance was fine, but dancing and talking at the same time was a challenge for her.
When the music ended, Jon and Miss Margaery retreated to their respective 'camps.'
Interestingly, after retreating, neither Miss Margaery nor Jon looked directly at each other, but both angled their bodies slightly, observing the other out of the corner of their eyes, ensuring they could keep each other in their peripheral vision.
Between the two of them, they had a total of eight hundred tricks up their sleeves.
Seeing that the time was right, Alliser, after seeking permission from Stannis, loudly announced, "In the name of Stannis Baratheon the First, the ball officially begins!"
As the temporary Hand of the King finished speaking, musicians seated in different corners began to play in unison. In this world, where technology and the Renaissance era were similar, everyone experienced surround sound.
Men and women in various costumes began to dance. Stannis even personally entered the fray, 'charging' forward. Although his army was currently small, this was entirely the royal family's home turf.
The House Tyrell as a whole appeared to be 'under siege.' After all, King's Landing was Stannis's territory now; he had long since arranged for each member of the House Tyrell to be entangled, solely to create an opportunity for Jon.
Sansa was also very supportive, abandoning her ladylike reserve to actively invite Garlan.
Jon also seized the opportunity, circling through the dance floor to reach Miss Margaery's side.
They exchanged glances. She placed her silk-gloved hand into Jon's, feeling the roughness and warmth of his large hand. The two quickly slipped away amidst the chaos, about to open up a'second battlefield.'
Rhea, standing nearby, naturally saw what was happening with Jon. Seeing Jon go to Miss Margaery instead of her made her feel relieved, yet also a bit jealous and disappointed.
But no matter what, relief was the predominant feeling.
What if he was a Duke? He didn't even have his own fief yet, and besides, she wouldn't want to marry a bastard.
However, no one cared about her thoughts.
————On Jon and Miss Margaery's side, it was indeed as she said: Mace had laid out numerous obstacles.
As soon as they left the main hall, the light intensity suddenly dropped. The sun had long set, and only candlelight from street lamps provided some illumination.
But those street lamps were not electric lights after all, and visibility remained limited, only barely pushing back the darkness, which instead made one feel as if danger lurked in the surrounding shadows.
The two hurried forward, Jon's coat tails and Miss Margaery's skirt fluttering behind them.
"Stop!" Jon tightened his grip on Miss Margaery's hand slightly. The two abruptly halted, then darted behind a set of Dragon Scale Armor used as decoration.
This armor clearly looked like a decoration left from the Targaryen era.
Hiding behind the Dragon Scale Armor and Jon, Miss Margaery saw a House Tyrell guard suddenly appear, looking around, which surprised her; she didn't understand how Jon had managed to 'foresee' it.
After the guard left, the two continued forward, but after only a couple of steps, Jon whispered, "Turn left!" Sure enough, as soon as they changed direction, three guards arrived.
As Jon led her through the'stages,' Miss Margaery felt her heart rate gradually quicken. The tension and excitement made her eyes grow brighter, and it was as if something very primal within her had been activated.
At the same time, because the perceived temperature dropped sharply upon leaving the hall, she unconsciously leaned her body towards Jon.
Along the way, Jon led Miss Margaery to dodge, flash, hide, retreat, and circle, as if playing a thrilling game. This gave her a remarkably novel experience.
Before long, the two arrived at the Red Keep's garden.
Also to welcome the Tyrells, the garden had been renovated, mainly by transplanting some fresher flowers.
"Miss Margaery, I believe there are no more guards around."
Upon Jon's reminder, Miss Margaery slowly distanced herself from him.
Under their feet was a grey cobblestone path, leading into the depths of the garden. Jon and Miss Margaery stood on opposite sides, this grey path like a border between two realms.
A cool autumn breeze swept through, rustling Miss Margaery's hair and Jon's coat tails.
The flirtation from the ball and the thrill of conspiring to escape quickly faded. The two were like diplomats about to begin negotiations.
Now was the crucial moment to define power and interests.
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