Looking at Just Maid emitting a faint green glow, and the dawn-like dividing line shimmering along its edge, Galladon's heart pounded.
If it could slice rock like rotten wood… what about steel swords? Armor?
If that were true, then his future battlefield presence would be terrifying.
Lord Selwyn was equally shaken by the blade's sharpness.
"Galladon… is this truly Just Maid?"
His voice trembled, hoarse with disbelief.
He had named his eldest son "Galladon Tarth" in honor of the legendary hero Morning Light Galladon, hoping for blessings from that name.
But he never imagined his son would actually find the holy sword lost for thousands of years.
A weapon said to be bestowed by the Seven Gods.
What did it mean that his son bore the name Galladon… and now wielded the Just Maid?
Selwyn scarcely dared to think.
"Yes, Father," Galladon replied calmly. "I found it in the cave and pulled it out."
He knew that in the original timeline, this body would have died.
In the books, Brienne once mentioned that her older brother drowned when she was four.
Perhaps the original Galladon had found the sword—but failed to surface, and both he and the blade were lost beneath the sea.
But now, everything has changed.
Galladon survived.
The holy sword returned.
House Tarth would no longer rely on Brienne alone.
"Let me see it."
Lord Selwyn reached out with trembling hands.
The moment his fingers touched the blade—
"Hiss—!"
He recoiled as if struck by lightning.
A red burn mark formed instantly on his fingertips, faint smoke curling upward.
The pain was sharp and real.
Claude stepped forward at Selwyn's order and tried as well.
The result was the same—burning pain, a visible scorch mark.
"It truly is the holy sword!" Claude said ecstatically.
If there had been doubt before, there was none now.
The Just Maid had chosen its master.
Galladon was slightly surprised. The blade caused him no harm, yet it burned everyone else.
A divine weapon indeed.
He planted the sword into the sand.
It sank one-third of the way into gravel with almost no effort.
"You try," Galladon ordered the kneeling knights.
They hesitated—but at Selwyn's command, each approached in turn.
Every single one recoiled in pain upon contact.
Burn marks formed on their hands.
Yet instead of frustration, their faces shone with awe.
When Galladon pulled the blade free again, none dared question its authenticity.
"Back to the castle!" Selwyn declared, joy replacing all earlier fear.
The guards' morale soared. They knew they had witnessed something historic.
The burns on their hands would become badges of honor.
Return to Evenfall
Evenfall Hall stood upon a hill overlooking the sapphire waters of the Sea of Tarth. Across the bay loomed Storm's End, ancestral seat of House Baratheon.
The castle's gray stone walls were weathered by sea winds. The Dusk Star Tower rose like a sentinel. At its peak hung House Tarth's sigil—sun and moon together—aged with time.
Inside, Maester Amos had prepared a fire and hot soup.
He noticed the unusual excitement among the household but did not yet know why.
Galladon was wrapped in wool blankets and warmed by the hearth. Hot broth with meatballs, and mint restored color to his face.
Little Brienne, small and earnest, kept adding firewood to make the flames stronger. She believed it would help her brother recover faster.
Galladon smiled and pulled her into his embrace.
Unlike the distant relationships of his past life, Brienne clung to him affectionately, nestling into the blanket with only her head peeking out.
Selwyn watched his children with quiet pride.
He carefully lifted the sheathed Just Maid.
This time, he touched only the leather scabbard.
Even so, the weight startled him.
It was incredibly heavy—at least thirty to forty pounds.
Far heavier than a typical two-handed sword.
Yet earlier, Galladon had wielded it effortlessly.
Perhaps that was the privilege of its chosen master.
Selwyn examined the inscription at the hilt.
Just Maid.
He exhaled slowly.
Above the fireplace hung the Tarth family sigil: suns and moons intertwined.
For thousands of years, other houses had risen to glory—Stark, Baratheon, Lannister, even the Tyrells who rose from stewards to lords.
But House Tarth?
Its ancient glory had faded.
Once, its patriarch had been honored as the "Evening Star."
Now, few remembered.
The family words surfaced in Selwyn's mind:
"Dusk ends, dawn approaches."
He looked at his son.
Perhaps Galladon was that dawn.
(End of Chapter 3)
A/N:
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