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"Did the Queen of Thorns not write that the Tyrell delegation would bring heavy gifts?
"As your family's envoy, do you not know this? Or did House Tyrell come without sincerity?"
Seeing Margaery's blank expression, Robb frowned. His ice-bright eyes cooled, and his voice cooled with displeasure.
Bloodwind seemed to feel his mood. The giant direwolf stepped forward, its body more than ten feet tall, and the shadow it cast swallowed Margaery where she stood.
Margaery looked up at Bloodwind's vast, intelligent, freezing eyes and shivered. She woke from her daze at once.
"No, no. House Tyrell came with sincerity, of course. Forgive my lapse, Your Grace. My mind is still on the chaos just now. Please do not worry. The gifts will satisfy you. Allow me to lead the way."
She lifted her skirts, curtsied in apology, and moved toward the delegation's wagons, clearly eager to put some distance between herself and the monstrous wolf.
Robb smiled for the first time.
"Good. Then let me see the wealth of the Reach."
As he spoke, he decided the lesson had been enough. He sent Bloodwind a thought.
The giant wolf's oppressive body rippled and twisted, then shrank rapidly like a wineskin losing air until he became a harmless little pup.
Bloodwind's use of Control sent waves of astonishment through all the outsiders in the yard. To them, every action Robb had taken today had been unbelievable. An image of invincible, unknowable power had already been planted in their minds.
Margaery walked ahead, holding her wrinkled, stained court gown.
'He and that giant wolf are terrifying. And he truly does not seem interested in me. It does not look feigned.'
'Could he be another man with Renly I's tastes?'
She could not know that although this was their first meeting, Robb already knew of her from his previous life. He had lived through an age flooded with images, where every kind of beauty could be found everywhere, even faces as delicate as elves.
Compared with Margaery's sweet beauty, Robb, who had been poor in the North for far too long, was more interested in the heavy gifts.
Of course, had he known she was comparing him to Renly I, he likely would have taught the Rose of Highgarden exactly how wrong she was.
It was not that Robb had no desire to indulge himself. It was that Westeros still held dangers that drove him to grow stronger. His strict self-control now was for a freer life later.
If he could sit the Iron Throne today, and if open and hidden enemies like Tywin, Daenerys, the greenseer, and the Night King all vanished, then with Robb's temperament and body, he could have taken Margaery any way he pleased and left her unable to walk tomorrow.
The doors of the transport wagons creaked open. Inside, wooden chests were stacked in neat rows, and near the doors sat leather sacks the size of small satchels.
"Right Hand, open them, please," Margaery said.
The tall, powerful man stepped forward and opened the sacks and chests. The chests were filled with gold bars as thick as a child's arm. The bulging sacks held gold coins.
The bars shone with a deep red-gold luster, and Robb knew at a glance that their purity was high. The coins were not the gold dragons used today.
He picked up two and examined them. The front showed the face of a man he did not recognize. The back bore the mark of a hand.
"Your Grace, these are gold hands, the currency used in the Reach before Aegon's Conquest. After the Reach became independent again, we recast many gold dragons and restored the use of these ancient coins."
Margaery's clear voice explained when she saw that Robb did not recognize them.
"Restoring ancient coinage. Was that the Queen of Thorns's idea? Ah, Lady Olenna's?"
Looking at the gold bars and coins filling the wagons, Robb's mood improved, and his tone softened.
"No. It was the Hand of the Kingdom of the Reach, my father."
The question was odd, but Margaery sensed the change in his tone.
"I see."
If it had been the idea of that Lord Pufferfish, it made sense.
In Robb's previous life, one of the great achievements of an ancient emperor had been unifying currency. Lord Mace had managed to reverse the process, recasting the gold dragons used across Westeros into gold hands.
Since currency had to be exchanged before use, this would quietly add friction to trade between the Reach and other regions. A once active and prosperous economy would slowly clog, and the burden on the common people of the Reach would be especially heavy.
In the short term, perhaps it helped House Tyrell's prestige a little. In the long term, it brought far more harm than good.
Seeing Robb stare silently at the coins, Margaery bit her red, full lower lip and said, "Your Grace, although one gold hand is worth only half a gold dragon, the wagons behind these are also gifts. The gold bars and gold hands together are worth roughly six hundred thousand gold dragons."
'Six hundred thousand gold dragons. Highgarden is richer than Casterly Rock right now.'
Robb had never seen such wealth in the North, and he silently sighed.
In terms of accumulated wealth, Highgarden was indeed far richer than Casterly Rock at present. In his previous life, after Jaime took Highgarden, the wealth stored there had been enough to repay the Iron Throne's six or seven million gold-dragon debt to the Iron Bank.
Yet this also showed how inferior House Tyrell was to House Lannister in using wealth.
Tywin used Lannister gold to build the Westerlands heavy cavalry and other military strength. He also lent great sums for Robert to squander, turning wealth into political capital. He had made his family's money serve its value well.
House Tyrell, by contrast, piled its wealth in Highgarden's vaults. Aside from the pleasure of seeing treasure accumulate, it only stored up future disaster. Wealth that did not circulate had no value and drew greedy eyes.
"Good," Robb said after inspecting the other wagons. His face now held a friendly smile. "I have felt Lady Olenna's sincerity. Lady Margaery, the sun may harm your delicate skin. Let us continue inside the keep."
The gifts were nearly one-tenth of the foundation House Tyrell had built over almost three hundred years. Robb was satisfied. His gaze now fell on the remaining nine-tenths.
After signaling Crey to take charge of the gifts, Robb entered the inner keep with Bloodwind, still in pup form, and Margaery.
Lord Mace, Garlan, and Loras could only remain outside. Their status was still that of noble prisoners.
As soon as they sat in the lord's study, Margaery went straight to the point.
"Your Grace, first, I ask you to release my father, my two brothers, and all our surviving soldiers."
"That is proper. The six hundred thousand gold dragons are more than enough to ransom all of them."
"No, Your Grace. That gold is our gift to you. My father's ransom will still be paid by House Tyrell. But before that, I wish to ally House Tyrell with House Stark."
Robb was genuinely surprised.
'Six hundred thousand gold dragons, given for nothing?'
'House Tyrell... no, the Queen of Thorns, has real nerve.'
When the discussion turned serious, Robb's smile faded. He considered for a moment and then asked, pretending not to understand, "Lady Margaery, as far as I know, you have already allied with House Lannister. What do you mean by this?"
"Your Grace, Tywin Lannister deceived us."
Margaery recounted the events at Highgarden without holding anything back. To show sincerity, she followed Olenna's instructions and even revealed Tywin's attempt to renew the alliance with House Tyrell and devour Dorne, the Stormlands, and the rest of the coalition.
"Tsk. Tywin has great ambition and a formidable hand," Robb said after hearing secrets his agents had never uncovered. Understanding Tywin's intent, he found himself admiring the scheme.
"With one arrangement, he drew everyone in. Even I was used by him without noticing.
"I suspect he wanted to use me to pin you down, forcing House Tyrell to submit to House Lannister in order to save Highgarden. But he did not expect me to capture your tens of thousands of soldiers in such a short time with so few men.
"That left a flaw in his careful design. And that flaw will be fatal."
Margaery's heart gave a fierce beat at the sight of Robb's confidence.
Men never stopped liking young, beautiful women, and women likewise admired handsome, decisive men with power, authority, and confidence.
"Your Grace, I used the word alliance just now. But so long as you can guarantee that House Tyrell will continue to rule the Reach, we are willing to swear fealty to you."
However moved Margaery felt, she would not give away her family's interests for it. She followed Olenna's instructions and made the first concession.
"Alliance? Fealty?" Robb laughed. "I do not care about such formalities. If you want me to relieve Highgarden's crisis for House Tyrell, then offer concrete terms that can move me."
Margaery felt she was beginning to understand the young king's nature. She smiled, sweet and gentle.
"Since Your Grace prefers plain speech, I will speak plainly.
"First, the Kingdom of the Reach is willing to demote itself to the Reach and swear fealty to you.
"Second, we will provide gold, grain, weapons, and equipment worth two million gold dragons as payment for you to lead the northern army and lift the siege of Highgarden.
"Third, in the future war for the Iron Throne, the armies of the Reach will obey your call at any time and fight for you. All grain, pay, pensions, and costs will be borne by us.
"Fourth, House Tyrell wishes to marry into House Stark and support the new northern laws you proposed."
Robb nodded with satisfaction. House Tyrell was serious this time. Their terms offered money, grain, and men, showing more sincerity than most noble houses in Westeros ever offered when swearing fealty.
"I want to ask about the fourth condition."
"Your Grace, although I have been married twice, Renly I loved only my brother Loras, and Renly II was only eight or nine years old. I... I am still a physically untouched maiden."
A shadow crossed Margaery's face, then anxiety as she hurried to explain.
"Lady Margaery, do not be anxious," Robb said, raising a hand. "I know something of what you said, and I believe you. Such a lie could not be hidden for long anyway. But that is not what I meant.
"How is supporting the new northern laws a payment from you? Those laws benefit nobles and commoners alike."
Margaery breathed out. "So that is what Your Grace meant. I heard that you have a new law granting land to commoners and making them nobles. In Westeros, such a law infringes on the interests of all nobles. House Tyrell is willing to promote it with you."
Lord Randyll had actually explained the new law before, but Olenna had cunningly listed this as a condition anyway. Under Tywin's propaganda, the nobles of the southern realms did indeed view Robb's law in that way. Even if Robb sent men to investigate, he would find no contradiction.
"Lady Margaery, it seems you misunderstand the new law I have implemented in the North."
Robb explained the northern law to her carefully. The land of the Westerlands alone was enough to enfeoff the knights promoted under the northern system. For the nobles of the other southern realms, it would hardly touch their roots.
"Your Grace, I roughly understand the northern law now. But I wish to ask what you think of making me your queen."
After hearing Robb's explanation, Margaery, whose thoughts had never truly been on the law, asked the question that mattered most to her.
"Of course there is no problem. Lady Margaery is of noble birth and has brought House Tyrell's generous gifts. You are certainly the best candidate for queen."
Robb had no particular objection to this Rose of Highgarden who had married twice yet remained untouched. For now, what he valued most was House Tyrell behind her.
'It is done. I am queen again.'
A sincere smile bloomed on Margaery's lovely face.
She rose from her seat and walked to Robb's side. Her court gown slipped to the floor. Naked, her cheeks flushed, she knelt before him.
"Before the gods above, House Tyrell swears fealty to House Stark today."
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