A thin drizzle fell over King's Landing as Duke Karl El adjusted the soft deerskin gloves on his hands. Each finger fit perfectly. He flexed them once, then settled the gilded sword hanging at his waist.
With practiced ease, he took the reins of his horse, Fox, from his new attendant, Samwell Tarly, and mounted in one smooth motion.
From the saddle, Karl looked over the army gathered outside the Lion Gate.
Before him stretched a magnificent river of steel, crimson, and black banners.
This was his force.
Five thousand men stood ready to march, accompanied by long supply trains of wagons, food, tools, tents, and weapons. Among them were more than two thousand fierce mountain clan warriors who had followed Karl loyally from the beginning. The rest were new recruits taken from the surrendered western forces.
Karl had offered those former enemies a simple choice:
Serve loyally, and their previous crimes and obligations would be forgiven.
Thousands accepted. After careful screening over half a month, Karl chose three thousand of the best.
It was not that he lacked the chance to take more.
Many powerful men wanted these trained soldiers for themselves. More importantly, Karl knew an army too large could become a burden if not properly supplied. He needed quality, discipline, and loyalty more than numbers.
And as the newly appointed Warden of the West, no one dared openly challenge his right to recruit men from western lands.
Looking at the assembled host, Karl felt his blood stir.
"My lord, shall we depart now?"
The speaker was Kesi, who had been rushing back and forth all morning organizing the baggage train.
Karl nodded.
"Everything is ready. Give the order."
Then he lifted his eyes to the dark sky beyond the gate.
"I wonder when I will next return here."
Rain Over the Capital
The weather was gray and damp.
For nearly a month since the martial games had ended, the rains over King's Landing had grown heavier than usual. Still, Karl did not mind.
Rain cooled the roads, kept dust low, and made marching easier than under a blazing sun.
Kesi saluted and hurried away to relay the command.
His duties were exhausting. Once the army began moving, he had to keep the supply train in proper order, ensure wagons did not fall behind, organize camps each night, and prepare food and logistics for thousands of men.
Fortunately, the newly recruited western soldiers were strong laborers as well as fighters.
Karl believed in using every resource wisely.
Trumpets soon sounded across the line.
Men tightened straps, checked shields, mounted horses, and prepared to leave.
Jon's Farewell
Nearby, another farewell was taking place.
Jon Snow stood before Eddard Stark and the Stark family.
When he heard the signal to depart, Jon pushed aside his lingering sadness and straightened.
"I'm going now," he said quietly. "I'll return to King's Landing to see you all again."
Much had changed for him.
After learning the truth of his birth, Jon had struggled deeply with who he was and where he belonged. In the end, he decided to leave behind what was never truly his and build a new life by his own will.
He would no longer be Jon Snow.
He had chosen a new name:
Jon White Wolf.
The name came from his white direwolf, Ghost.
He had even designed a sigil for his future house—a silver-white direwolf resting upon a dark field of snow, its red eyes raised watchfully toward the sky.
Karl had laughed when he first saw it.
"That looks less like snow and more like volcanic ash."
Jon had replied seriously, "There are no direwolves on volcanoes."
Karl only smiled.
"There should be dragons there."
Jon had no answer to that.
Now, facing the family who had raised him, Jon tried to remain calm.
Eddard Stark looked at him with complicated eyes.
Though Jon was not his blood, Ned had loved and protected him since infancy. Now the boy had become a man, and the time had come to let him go.
"Follow Duke Karl closely," Ned said. "He is capable, and you will learn much from him."
He paused, then awkwardly added:
"When you return in a year or two, I'll help find you a suitable wife."
Arya immediately burst forward.
"I don't want some silly lady for him!"
Tears still clung to her cheeks.
"He should marry someone he loves! Then I'll come to his castle for the wedding!"
Ned pressed a hand to her shoulder and gently moved her aside.
"Enough, Arya. Don't delay your brother."
Arya sniffed and wiped her face with her sleeve.
Jon could not help smiling.
Then he looked at them all.
"Goodbye, Father. Arya. Sansa. Bran. Rickon."
He hesitated before turning to Catelyn Stark.
"Aunt Catelyn."
Even now, the title came awkwardly.
Bran and Rickon rushed forward with promises to miss him. Catelyn, unusually silent, said nothing harsh.
At last Ned embraced Jon firmly.
"Go on."
Jon knelt briefly to rub Ghost's head, then turned and walked away.
He knew they would meet again.
But he also knew something had ended forever.
He would never again be simply one of the Stark children.
Sansa's Goodbye
As Jon departed, Ned noticed where Sansa Stark had truly been looking the whole time.
Toward Karl.
Ned allowed himself a faint smile.
"Come, Sansa. Say farewell to your fiancé."
Her cheeks flushed immediately.
"The next time you meet, it may be when he comes to claim you as his wife."
"Father!"
But despite her embarrassment, Sansa quickly lifted her skirts and followed him.
Karl, seeing them approach, suddenly realized he had not yet gone personally to say goodbye.
He immediately dismounted from Fox and stepped forward.
"My apologies, Lord Stark, Lady Sansa. I meant to come sooner, but preparations have kept me occupied."
Sansa lowered her eyes at once, too shy to meet his gaze.
Ned only laughed softly.
"When you return to Casterly Rock, if you face any difficulty, send word to King's Landing."
He placed a hand on Karl's shoulder.
"The king and I will support you."
Karl smiled politely.
Then another thought came to him.
"I have not seen His Majesty today."
Where Is the King?
Karl meant Robert Baratheon.
Though father and son were tied by blood, Karl had never publicly addressed him as such.
Ned sighed.
"His Majesty said the tournament awakened his appetite for the hunt."
"He has been hunting in the kingswood for two days."
Karl raised a brow.
Ned continued.
"With him are Barristan Selmy, the newly selected Kingsguard, Loras Tyrell, Margaery Tyrell, Mace Tyrell, and Renly Baratheon."
"A family gathering of sorts."
Karl almost laughed.
Robert had chosen exactly this moment to vanish into the forest while Karl was leaving for the west.
Still, there was no danger now. The realm was stable, enemies weakened, and strong guards accompanied the king.
"Then I wish His Majesty a successful hunt," Karl said lightly.
Ned understood there were feelings between father and son neither wished to name aloud.
So he nodded and withdrew, giving the young pair privacy.
Promises in the Rain
Once Ned stepped away, Karl finally relaxed.
Facing lords and armies was easier than facing a future father-in-law.
Sansa looked up shyly.
"When will you return?"
The question came softly, but her face reddened at once.
Karl smiled.
"Do you wish me to return sooner and marry you quickly?"
She lowered her head again in mortified silence.
Karl studied her with growing affection.
Sansa was beautiful in the classic manner of House Tully—clear blue eyes, rich auburn hair, graceful features, and the poise of a noble lady.
Yet recently he had learned more of her.
She could sing well.
She understood music, poetry, embroidery, and dance.
She was sheltered, yes—but not foolish. Merely innocent.
Untouched by the harshness of the world.
Karl found that purity strangely refreshing.
He gently patted her head.
"When you feel you have grown up, write to me."
"Then I will come personally to bring you home."
Before she could respond, he leaned forward and kissed her softly on the forehead.
Sansa froze.
Karl turned, mounted Fox, and rode back to the head of the column.
The Road West
Trumpets sounded again.
The gates opened.
Under the gray drizzle, Duke Karl El's great procession marched out of King's Landing and onto the Gold Road.
Behind him, the capital faded into mist.
Ahead lay the west, power, danger, and destiny.
As the army moved, a quiet figure approached Karl's side.
It was Tyrion Lannister, with Sam nearby.
Tyrion looked westward for a long moment—the road home.
Then he turned to Karl with a crooked smile.
"You still haven't told me your house words, Duke Karl El."
Karl glanced at him.
"My house words have only three phrases."
"And those are?"
Karl's eyes lifted toward the storm-gray horizon.
"Thought."
"Sword."
"Truth."
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)