Lord Galbart Glover of Deepwood Motte spoke in a low voice: "So you're saying Tywin still doesn't know we've reached Riverrun?"
"Not certain," Lady Maege Mormont of Bear Island retorted. "It may simply be that this man failed to notice us. A host this large leaves traces that cannot be hidden."
At her words, the lords—and even Lord Eddard Stark—nodded in agreement.
Eddard then gestured with his hand, and the guards hauled the two prisoners away.
As the unlucky men were led out, all eyes turned, unbidden, toward the one who remained.
Kal stood his ground, calm and unflinching under their stares.
Before anyone else could speak, Robert broke into booming laughter, unable to contain himself.
"You brat—I thought you'd slipped off to chase women!"
"Didn't expect, while I was still abed, for you to throw me such a fine surprise!"
None of those present thought to contradict the King's praise.
After all, the concrete results were plain to see—and this unexpected gain gave them far more time to prepare than they could have hoped for.
Hearing Robert's praise, Kal lowered his head slightly and replied calmly, without showing much expression: "As your knight, it is my duty to ease your burdens, Your Grace."
Robert, already delighted by Kal's surprise, nearly grinned to the back of his head at such flattery.
He cast a sidelong glance at Eddard Stark seated beside him, his expression practically saying Look at my son, as if to boast before his old friend.
But Lord Eddard had no patience for his king's mischief. He was too busy pondering what he had just heard of Tywin Lannister's movements on the battlefield.
Yet he did not speak his thoughts aloud. Instead, he lifted his gaze toward his vassals, toward Robert, and toward the hall's host, Lord Walder Frey.
"What do you all make of Ser Bent Banefort's testimony?"
Hearing Eddard turn the talk to serious matters, Robert stopped his teasing and put on a stern face, settling back on his stool as if to say, Let's hear it, then.
The gathered lords exchanged glances.
Roose Bolton was the first to speak.
"It seems Tywin seeks to muddy the waters of the Riverlands. I believe his aim is to prevent the Riverlords from uniting once more."
"After all, with our arrival, if he makes no move in this regard, then even if he continues to besiege Riverrun—once we gather our host and rally the Riverlords under one command—Tywin Lannister will inevitably be forced into open battle with us. And that, for him, is a losing game."
The Leech Lord spoke softly, never raising his voice, forcing the hall to fall silent and listen intently.
And when his reasoning was laid out, the rest sank into thought, finding his words difficult to dispute.
From the mouth of that knight, Ser Bent Banefort, they had also learned that after Tywin Lannister encircled Riverrun, he had done just as they feared—he did not sit idle. Once he left behind enough men to hold the siege, he dispersed the rest of his forces. Those troops, moving south along the Trident, spread fire and ruin across the Riverlands in a campaign of plunder.
This was the most vital piece of information.
After Roose Bolton finished laying out his thoughts, Eddard Stark rapped his knuckles against the arm of his stool, then added in a firm voice: "Not only that!"
"His strategy also has to account for matters of supply."
At his words, every gaze turned toward him.
Meeting their eyes, Eddard spoke his mind.
"Do not forget—though the Westerlands are closer to the Riverlands than our North, Tywin's stretched battle lines ensure that his logistics are always strained."
"His aim here is clear: to feed war with war. By ravaging the Riverlands, he sustains his own host at the expense of this land."
"So, if I am not mistaken, my lords—this means we must move faster!"
When Eddard Stark finished, the hall fell into silence.
Once he had spoken the truth aloud, all recognized he was right.
But the problem remained—how could they possibly move faster?
With no answer, their eyes drifted once more from Eddard Stark to the figure who had sat in silence from the start: old Walder Frey.
Yet before the Lord of the Crossing could begin his performance, Kal suddenly stepped forward from among the gathered men.
He came directly before Robert, then dropped to one knee.
"Your Grace, I know the urgency of this matter, and I know the complexity of the war before us."
"But to ensure we can face what comes with greater ease—"
"I offer myself as the vanguard!"
"I will carve a path through thorns for our army!"
Kal's sudden request to take on the mission caught everyone off guard—including Lord Walder Frey, who had been prepared to sit back and enjoy the fruits of others' labor, perhaps even drive up the price once more.
Yet, despite the difficulty, after much thought and discussion with the gathered lords, Lord Eddard and Robert at last affirmed Kal's proposal.
For them at this moment, the plan was all benefit and no harm.
But just as Kal himself had used as an excuse, Robert's final order was to send him as the vanguard, riding south ahead to see what exactly Tywin Lannister—the old lion—was scheming on the battlefield.
At the same time, he was to find out what the situation at Riverrun had become.
After all, to them, the Riverlands had already turned into an isolated island where information could barely reach.
The few messages that did make it through were nothing but pleas for help, of little practical use.
So Robert and Eddard did not expect Kal to clash head-on with the Westerlands forces.
Nor was there any need.
For the Northern host, what they truly needed now was information—and a little bit of time.
Kal's willingness to step forward, combined with his string of outstanding victories, his measured and mature handling of affairs, and his wisdom and martial prowess that inspired trust, convinced both Robert and Eddard to let him try.
Still, so as not to send Kal to his death, Lord Eddard Stark personally assigned him two hundred of House Stark's own cavalry to command.
This was no small generosity on Eddard's part.
...
Before departure, to the south of Seagard, the mustering grounds stirred.
The departing force included not only Kal's own Blackstone Mercenaries, but also Jon Snow, who served as his squire.
And as for the two hundred elite cavalry—those were the very marrow of Eddard's house.
"Remember, boy—your only purpose is to scout. Don't underestimate the battlefield, and don't you dare play the hero!" Robert, as king, had come in person to send Kal off.
As he spoke, something seemed to cross Robert's mind. He slapped his heavy belly, cursing aloud.
"Damn it! If I weren't so fat, I'd never let you steal the glory of leading this charge!"
He stared at the armored giant before him, towering like a great tower, and his eyes brimmed with memory.
"And that helmet of yours—it's ugly as sin!"
Grinning, Robert suddenly reached out, snatched the helmet from Kal's arms, gave it a glance, and tossed it straight into the hands of a Stark bannerman standing behind.
Then, raising his voice, he bellowed at one of the royal guards who had marched north with him: "Bring me my helmet! No—bring the whole set! My crowned stag surcoat, my banners, all of it—bring it here!"
At these words, everyone turned to look at him in astonishment.
Even Lord Eddard Stark, who had been speaking quietly with Jon Snow, looked over in surprise.
Hearing the king's command, several members of the royal household staff—those who had been neglected since Queen Cersei Lannister's death, though spared imprisonment unlike other Lannisters—hurried out at once.
Before long, the items Robert had ordered were brought forward.
When his eyes fell on the great antlered helm—something he had scarcely touched in nearly a decade—Robert's gaze grew heavy with remembrance.
He took it from the guard's hands, running his fingers across the surface. The helmet had been kept in perfect condition by attendants, its luster preserved, yet Robert's expression was still complicated.
Then, suddenly, he smiled. Without hesitation, he raised the massive helm and personally placed it upon Kal's head.
Through the narrow slit of the visor, Kal looked at Robert Baratheon, who was staring back at him with a mixture of emotions. A strange complexity welled up in Kal's own heart.
But Robert, after fixing the helm into place, simply clapped Kal on the chest, stepped back a few paces with satisfaction, and admired how the change made Kal Stone look all the more imposing and martial.
"Not bad. That's more like it!"
"A man ought to look powerful!!!"
Robert gazed at Kal as though he were looking upon his younger self.
But then his eyes dropped lower, catching sight of the gilded longsword strapped at Kal's waist, and his expression froze.
"I remember you told me you wield a two-handed warhammer. So why in the seven hells are you carrying a sword—the kind only women favor?!"
"And if I'm not mistaken, isn't that the Kingslayer's blade? What are you doing with that piece of trash? Granted, I suppose it's your rightful spoil of war!"
Recognition flickered across Robert's face, quickly turning to displeasure.
Kal merely patted the sword at his hip.
"I intend to return it to Tyrion. But he told me its rightful place was on the battlefield, so he gave it to me. As for the hammer…"
He stepped aside, revealing Fawkes behind him, stamping his hooves in excitement.
All eyes turned as one.
Hanging at the saddle of the chestnut warhorse was a massive two-handed hammer, double-headed, each side crowned with a brutal block of iron.
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