Although the Targaryen blood in Garon's body was extremely thin and had not yet awakened, it did not trouble him in the slightest.
Because he possessed the system, he could not only activate this bloodline but also continuously deepen it.
Sooner or later, he would awaken true Targaryen traits and become a dragon rider, just like the dragons of old.
In this world, dragons were unavoidable.
The difference between possessing a dragon and not possessing one was immeasurable.
Garon was already looking forward to that day.
"Master, the bath water is ready. I will escort you back to your chamber to rest."
The voice of the steward Claude interrupted his thoughts. He approached with steady steps, a calm smile on his face, his bald head faintly reflecting the firelight.
"Alright."
Garon came back to himself and glanced down.
Although his clothes had already dried, salt from the seawater still clung to his skin, leaving it rough and uncomfortable.
He stood up slowly and gently handed Brienne, who had fallen asleep in his arms, to his father.
"Go and rest," Lord Selwyn said gently.
Garon nodded and followed Claude upstairs.
His bedchamber was located on the fifth floor of the Evenstar Tower, granting a broad view over Evenfall Hall and the surrounding coast.
The spiral staircase was built from gray stone, its steps worn smooth by generations of footsteps. Iron oil lamps were set into the walls, their flames flickering and casting long shadows. With each step, soft echoes followed them, mingling with the distant sound of waves striking the cliffs.
Soon, they reached the fifth floor.
Garon's door was made of thick oak, engraved with the quartered sun and crescent moon of House Tarth. Claude opened it, bowed, and stepped aside.
The chamber beyond was simple yet unmistakably noble.
A faded tapestry hung on the wall, depicting the legendary Garon the Morning Light standing beside a maiden of the Seven. A thick wool carpet covered the stone floor, and a large wooden bathtub stood near the hearth, already filled with warm water.
Lavender petals and fragrant herbs floated on the surface, steam curling upward.
A fire crackled nearby, filling the room with warmth.
A maid of around fourteen stood beside the tub, dressed in plain linen. When she saw Garon enter, she bowed politely.
"Master, the bath is ready."
Her name was Carina, a maid chosen by his late mother. She had served him since childhood.
Garon nodded and allowed her to help him remove his salt-stained clothes.
As he stepped into the tub, warmth enveloped his body, washing away fatigue.
"Carina, you may wait outside," Garon said quietly.
"Yes, my lord."
She withdrew, leaving him alone with the steam.
Leaning back, Garon let his thoughts seeps again.
According to Maester Ronnel's lessons, the current year was 275 AC.
The Mad King Aerys II still sat upon the Iron Throne.
Eddard Stark was only twelve years old, and Jaime Lannister was still young.
There were more than twenty years before the events of the main story.
By then, Garon would be nearly thirty — the height of his strength.
His current status was not low.
He was the heir of Evenfall Hall, son of Lord Selwyn Tarth, a sworn bannerman of House Baratheon.
The Isle of Tarth was a fertile and strategically valuable island.
It possessed forests, hills, pastureland, and stone quarries. Though not among the richest domains in Westeros, it was stable and self-sufficient.
Tarth lay east of Storm's End, guarding the waters of Shipbreaker Bay.
It was also one of the closest Westerosi lands to the Free Cities. Ships could reach Pentos in under a week and Tyrosh even faster.
This made it an ideal hub for trade.
House Tarth ruled the entire island directly.
There were no other noble houses beneath them.
Lord Selwyn could muster over two hundred knights and several thousand soldiers, along with a modest but capable fleet.
Evenfall Hall itself reflected that wealth and stability.
"It's a good fief," Garon thought.
With time, money, and foresight, Tarth could become far more influential than it appeared.
The War of the Usurper would change everything.
House Tarth was sworn to House Baratheon.
If Robert Baratheon claimed the throne, those who stood beside him would be rewarded.
Garon intended to ensure that House Tarth stood at the right place, at the right time.
"Master, would you like more hot water?" Carina asked from outside.
"No. I'm finished."
He stood and allowed her to return, drying and dressing him in clean nightclothes.
Afterward, servants removed the tub.
Garon opened the window.
Below him, Sapphire Harbor stretched along the coast. Merchant ships and fishing boats moved in steady rhythm. Beyond them lay the endless blue of the sea.
Evenfall Hall's stone walls stood firm against the wind, weathered but unbroken.
The Evenstar Tower rose above the castle, its beacon guiding ships through fog and storm.
Garon watched quietly.
This was his starting point.
When he finally lay down to sleep, it was with calm certainty.
He had not merely survived.
He had inherited a future.