"Oh, one more thing," Karl said cheerfully. "Make fitted armor for all my men as well. Put every expense on my account."
Karl El was in an excellent mood.
It felt as though he had brought his followers to purchase a fleet of luxury carriages, then casually gifted each of them another fine carriage afterward. His generosity made even the workers in Tob Mott's forge stare in amazement.
Not even Tyrion Lannister was overlooked. Before the dwarf could leave, servants were already measuring him for custom armor and asking about his preferences.
For reasons only partly hidden, Tyrion requested armor similar in style to Karl's own. He even asked for House El's sigil to be embroidered on the cloak and engraved upon the breastplate.
Karl naturally understood the meaning behind that choice.
The joy of paying for a set of armor was nothing compared to the delight of seeing Tyrion openly align himself with him.
"Good," Karl said with satisfaction. "You all stay here and finish your business. I'm going to see little Ewing."
As the wealthiest and most important customer in the shop, Karl's requests naturally came first. Tob Mott himself stepped forward to guide him, while Tyrion followed close behind.
The blacksmith led them through the rear of the shop, across a narrow stone courtyard, and into a large barn-like structure built of thick masonry.
The real smithing was done here. The front hall was merely for greeting customers.
The moment the door opened, a blast of heat rolled over them like a living thing.
Karl did not react at all. In fact, he found it pleasant, like stepping into warm bathwater. Ever since discovering his unusual resistance to heat, he had become strangely fond of warmth.
Tyrion, however, immediately stepped behind Karl's broad frame and used him as a shield against the furnace wind.
Tob Mott, accustomed to years of labor, simply walked onward.
Inside, the forge glowed with roaring fires in every corner. Sparks flew through the air. Iron rang beneath hammer blows. Smoke and sulfur thickened the atmosphere.
Karl sniffed and smirked.
Not strong enough.
His dragon wife's breath was worse than this.
Several blacksmiths glanced up at the visitors, then quickly returned to work. One broad-shouldered foreman hammered red-hot steel while an apprentice pumped the bellows furiously beside him.
Karl and Tyrion moved to a resting bench.
Soon Tob Mott returned, bringing a boy who barely reached Karl's shoulder.
"Ewing," the smith said, "Duke Karl El has come to see you."
The child had changed greatly.
Half a year ago, he had been thin, ragged, and frightened. Now his hair was cut short, his face was cleaner, and the beginnings of muscle showed on his arms.
Still, when he looked up and recognized Karl, all composure vanished.
"Captain Karl…"
His lip trembled.
Then tears burst from his eyes.
"Captain Karl, I missed you so much!"
Before anyone could react, Ewing threw himself into Karl's arms.
He cried openly, smearing soot and tears onto Karl's fine new clothing.
Karl froze for only a heartbeat, then laughed softly and placed a hand on the boy's head.
"There now."
He ruffled the boy's buzz cut affectionately.
Tob Mott nearly panicked.
The man Ewing had embraced was no common sellsword now. Karl El was Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West, one of the most powerful men in the Seven Kingdoms. More importantly, he held influence over the City Watch.
Even Tob Mott himself now spoke carefully around him.
Yet this grubby apprentice had rushed forward and clung to him like a lost son.
The smith almost stepped in to drag the boy away—but seeing Karl's calm smile, he wisely stopped.
At least one thing was clear:
Karl genuinely cared for this child.
Tyrion watched quietly.
This scene surprised him more than he expected.
Children had never reacted to him with love. The younger ones laughed at his size or cried in fear. Older ones mocked him with cruelty learned from their parents.
He had long ago accepted solitude.
But what stood before him now was real affection.
No fear. No false courtesy.
Just gratitude.
Tyrion's eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he looked at Karl.
Perhaps the man was more dangerous than he first appeared.
Anyone could win loyalty through gold.
Few could win it through kindness.
At last Ewing realized what he had done.
He sprang backward in terror.
"I—I'm sorry! Captain Karl—no, Duke Karl—I didn't mean to—"
Karl waved the apology away.
"I still prefer Captain Karl," he said with a grin. "But Kesi and Hall only call me Lord now."
He placed a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder.
"Tell me. How is your mother? And your sister?"
Relief filled Ewing's face.
"You gave me money before you left. I used it to hire a mercenary wizard to treat Mother. I wanted to save the rest, but… then I didn't need it anymore."
He stumbled through the explanation nervously.
Karl blinked.
Tob Mott coughed and stepped in.
"The wandering healer you hired fell in love with your mother," the smith explained. "He refused payment, told the boy to save his coin, and has since settled in King's Landing. They've made a family together."
Karl stared for a moment, then burst into laughter.
"Well. That was not the ending I expected."
Tyrion chuckled as well.
"Then it seems this wizard was worth the money."
Karl nodded.
He knew such wandering healers existed throughout Westeros. Some relied on herbs, others on practical medicine, and a few claimed real magic. Unlike maesters, they were cheap enough for commoners to afford.
Nobles usually pretended such people did not exist—unless they needed something discreet.
Karl looked back to Ewing.
"And your sister?"
"She's well," the boy said proudly. "She stays at home now. She doesn't have to work."
"And you?"
"I want to stay here," Ewing said. "I want to become useful. I want to become strong."
Karl's smile softened.
Now that was the answer he wanted.
He glanced at Tob Mott.
"Sounds like the wizard truly is a decent man."
The smith nodded.
"He treats many people now. Folk are grateful to Ewing's mother for bringing him here."
"Good."
Karl patted Ewing's head once more.
"Then listen carefully. Learn this trade properly. Become the best blacksmith you can."
The boy straightened.
"When you are ready, I'll have a place waiting for you in Casterly Rock."
Silence fell.
Even Tob Mott looked slightly sour.
The greatest stronghold in Westeros had just offered employment to one of his apprentices.
Ewing, meanwhile, looked stunned.
"I will!" he blurted. "Mother wanted to thank you too!"
"Then bring your whole family," Karl said warmly. "Your mother, your stepfather, your sister. I'll host dinner."
That made Tob Mott look even more sour.
He quickly turned and barked at the child.
"Back to the bellows, you little rascal! If you don't have strength to pump air, how will you ever swing a hammer?"
"Yes, Master!"
Ewing ran off happily.
As Tob Mott prepared to escort Karl and Tyrion out, Karl suddenly stopped.
His gaze fixed across the workshop.
A taller boy stood near another forge, broad-shouldered and thick-armed, hammering iron with natural strength. He looked around Robb Stark's age.
"What is it, Lord Karl?" Tob Mott asked cautiously.
Karl pointed.
"Who is that?"
The smith's eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
"His name is Gendry. Another apprentice. Strong for his age, hardworking too."
He attempted a casual smile.
"Come, my lord. It's hotter than a dragon's mouth in here, and your guards should be finished with their fittings."
Karl did not move.
"I think he looks suited to be a warrior," Karl said. "Bring him here."
Tob Mott hesitated.
Then he had no choice but to obey.
The boy approached, carrying a helmet in his hands.
It was shaped like a bull's head, with two curving horns rising from the sides.
Before Gendry could speak, Tob Mott quickly said, "The boy forged that himself. His craftsmanship is excellent."
Gendry stood awkwardly before Karl and Tyrion.
His hair was thick, black, and unruly. Sweat ran down his forehead. His blue eyes were wary and direct.
Tyrion noticed the features immediately.
Black hair.
Blue eyes.
Broad chest.
Strong jaw.
He stroked his chin slowly, interest growing.
Karl accepted the helmet and examined it.
Though plain and undecorated, the workmanship was solid. The shaping was skilled, the balance good.
This was no ordinary apprentice's work.
Karl looked up at the youth.
"I can see you are already becoming a qualified blacksmith."
He handed the bull-helm back.
Then he smiled.
"But tell me… would you be interested in becoming a qualified warrior as well?"
Gendry frowned, confused.
Tyrion's smile widened.
Now this was becoming interesting indeed.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)