"—Tch." Kal clicked his tongue again.
"L–Lord Kal, do you have any orders for us?"
Hall, who had only just learned of what Jon and the others had gone through, quickly stepped forward, seeing Kal Stone staring at them all with a troubled look.
"Orders? What orders could I possibly give?!"
"Even I have to bow to those old bastards and show them face. Power, that's what it comes down to. And me? I've only got you few at hand!"
"In the Eyrie, I can't even raise my voice!"
With his own men behind closed doors, Kal could not be bothered to play the stoic lord. He spoke bluntly, venting his frustration.
At those words, Jon Snow and Jory Cassel—still pale but having only just witnessed this man in human-dragon form slaughter his foes—could not help but glance at each other and roll their eyes.
Such talk could only be spoken here.
For they had seen firsthand the looks on the Vale lords' faces, the terror and dread in their eyes when they beheld Kal's feats.
If Lord Kal Stone truly dared not speak loudly in the Eyrie, then those lords would have to communicate by hand signs only.
But complaints aside, after having brushed shoulders with death itself, the four of them—all but Samwell, who remained merely frightened, clueless to the truth—knew their situation was dire.
Just as Kal had said: they were short on men, and after all that had happened in the Vale, the situation was tangled and grim.
With troubles both within and without, everything was a damned mess.
"If not for this bloody war—if King Robert had truly granted me the title of Warden of the East—I'd have marched here with an army at my back!"
"And even if I were borrowing troops, I'd take a few thousand at least!"
"Not just rush in with a handful, only to have the mountain clans' savages take Kennedy from me halfway through!"
A few grumbles weren't enough to ease Kal's frustration. He launched straight into broad daylight daydreaming.
But mid-rant, Kal suddenly fell silent.
A faint gleam lit his eyes as he looked toward Jon and the others.
That heated gaze made their necks prickle instinctively with a chill.
"Just now… did I say mountain clans?"
Kal rubbed at the new stubble on his chin, the glint in his eyes growing ever more dangerous.
"Y-Yes, my lord. If I'm not mistaken, you also said you wanted revenge!"
With Kossi absent, Hall—the sharpest among them, and the one who had known Kal the longest—immediately caught on to what should be said, while Jon and the rest were still slow to react.
"Yes. I did say that."
Kal kept stroking his stubble, his eyes narrowing further, danger radiating from him.
"In that case, we'll start by killing those savages!"
"No… better to say, we'll bring them under our banner."
A low, sinister chuckle slipped from Kal's lips.
After a couple of laughs, he turned his head and caught sight of Samwell staring at him in mute shock, as if only just remembering his presence.
Kal fell silent for a second, then made another cheerful decision on the spot.
"Hm… you'll come along too. I'll put a sword in your hand."
"Since Randyll Tarly looks down on you, prove to him you're worthy of being Horn Hill's heir—and worthy of your house's Heartsbane."
"Don't worry. With me here, it's like playing on single-player mode."
With the Vale in turmoil and nowhere to go for now, why not find something useful to do?
...
Kal made the decision in his chamber, with only his four companions present—not to kill, no, but to bring those mountain clans under his banner.
He had no intention of telling Bronze Yohn and the others.
Even if he did, they would certainly refuse.
Not to mention that it was nearly impossible to achieve—just wasting time chatting with those people was already a pointless task.
Let alone fighting them.
With war already raging, men clashing head-on, blood flowing freely, how could the Warden of the East tell them he now planned to provoke those wild clans?
In their eyes, Kal's words would seem nothing more than idle troublemaking—about as meaningful as chasing after a fart out of boredom.
At least that wouldn't risk lives for no reward, nor squander coin and grain for nothing.
The second reason was even simpler—Kal's plan ran directly against the lords' own interests.
So he couldn't speak of it to the Vale lords. He intended to act quietly, and only after the deed was done would he reveal it.
By then, with the child already born and in his arms, who would dare question the marriage's success?
Otherwise, wouldn't the agreements he had just made with them be worthless air?
Thus, Kal's next steps were clear. First, he had to dismiss the lords lingering in the Eyrie, sending each back to his own lands to rally and prepare their armies for the shifting tides of war.
Next, the two key cities facing the Narrow Sea—Gulltown and Runestone—needed to be garrisoned with strong forces sufficient to hold back threats from across the water.
Finally, he would draw additional troops from their levies and send them toward the coming battlefields of the Crownlands and the Riverlands.
Kal's reason for doing so was simple—he did not want these men lingering here any longer.
Not only were they a waste of time and resources.
Kal also feared that the longer they stayed, the greater the chance those old schemers might, out of ambition, follow the path of the original tale—seeking Lysa Tully's hand.
After all, even Nestor Royce, the Keeper of the Gates, had once dared pursue his former lady, Lysa Tully. And now, with Jon Arryn only recently dead, and with so much turmoil already unfolding, it was likely that some had simply not yet voiced their true intentions.
Why else would Lysa Tully summon them, and they all come eagerly to reside in the Eyrie, never speaking of leaving?
Kal would not believe for a moment that Lysa Tully had not used her beauty as bait.
Only this time, the fish she had lured with her own charms never made it to the pot.
Just when she had prepared the stew, an unforeseen dragon came crashing down, overturning everything in one sweep.
Now the fish was not in the pot.
The fire was out, the hearth overturned, the pot smashed.
And the cook herself scalded and blistered by boiling water.
Through all these twists of chance, Kal now found himself with every advantage in Vale affairs that, by rights, should never have concerned him.
Kal was not foolish enough to throw away the advantage in his hands, nor would he be so naive as to sit and wait for these foxes to bite into the meat that had already fallen right into his mouth.
Since the lords were so eager to place chains around his neck, could they blame him if he found the chance to smash those chains apart?
Finding a clear path out of the shadows, Kal felt a rush of satisfaction at having discovered the solution.
At once, while Jon and the others still looked somewhat bewildered, he gave them a few brief instructions and then dismissed them. He ordered the four men, Samwell Tarly included, to quietly make their preparations and await his command.
Only after watching the four leave did Kal let out a long breath, a faint smile blooming across his face.
He rose to his feet, straightening the soft dark-brown deerskin robe he had just changed into, and walked to the window to take in the strange beauty of the view outside.
New thoughts stirred in his eyes.
After a while, gazing down over the Vale and up at the Giant's Lance rising into the clouds, his gaze lingered on Alyssa's Tears as the waterfall streamed down the western ridge.
His lips moved in a low murmur. "Almost forgot—besides that, there's one more thing I must do."
With that thought, his fingers brushed a few times over the gem set in the gilded scabbard at his waist.
Suddenly, he recalled there was a matter he had to deal with, and deal with quickly.
If he waited a few more days, when he drove the lords back to their lands one by one under some excuse, the timing would lose its edge.
That matter was the investigation of all those connected with Lysa Tully.
But Kal did not mean examining only those linked to the recent assassination attempt.
Instead, he planned to use this as his pretext, and from there extend the inquiry back toward the truth behind Jon Arryn's death.
This idea came to him like a sudden flash of inspiration.
Of course, Kal was not aiming simply to uncover the truth of Jon Arryn's death.
He already knew how Jon Arryn had died.
In a case like this—where the target was drawn after the arrow was loosed—he had countless ways to guide matters until the truth surfaced completely.
That, for Kal, was no difficult task.
But that was not the outcome he desired.
The problem was not that the truth would be revealed—it was that this bomb could not be allowed to explode now.
Otherwise, it would serve only to stir up needless turmoil in the current war, with no benefit whatsoever.
What King's Landing needed most in this chaos was stability.
He had no reason to make extra trouble.
Yet precisely because of this, he had to lay the groundwork now.
He had to strike while the iron was hot, while the lords of the Vale were still present, and finish this matter.
Once the war ended, this would become the very foundation for his standing in court, and the turning point for his future rise.
Most importantly, it would also become a sharp scythe—one he could wield to cut away branches that did not belong to him.
The deeper he thought on it, the brighter Kal's eyes shone.
Outwardly, Cersei Lannister and Jaime had already been exposed by him, and with Stannis Baratheon pouring fuel onto the fire, the scandal had been pinned on them, branding the pair as the culprits behind the former Hand's murder.
Indeed, the dead cannot speak. Whatever the living claim becomes the truth.
But in reality, Jon Arryn's death had indeed been caused by his own wife, Lysa Tully.
The hidden hand behind it, however, was unknown to all.
Anything done must leave traces behind. Such a rare chance was not one Kal intended to let slip. Since Lysa Tully and Littlefinger had committed such a deed, there had to be marks left somewhere.
With this opportunity, Kal cared little how deep Littlefinger might try to hide. Through it, he could even more easily cut down entrenched figures in King's Landing, like Grand Maester Pycelle and the spider Varys.
Slinging mud, or using secret means—Kal was no stranger to either.
And besides, he was a man blessed with a cheat's hand.
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