Outside the chamber, three members of the Kingsguard stood watch beneath the command of Ser Arys Oakheart.
The moment Karl opened the door and stepped into the corridor, the three white-cloaked knights looked at him with unusually complicated expressions.
There was shock in their eyes.
Disbelief.
And something close to reverence.
After all, the walls of the castle were not thick enough to completely hide what had taken place inside the room. They had heard far more than they should have, and what they heard had left them stunned.
Karl paid no attention to their reactions.
He simply closed the door behind him.
"Your Majesty," Ser Arys Oakheart reported immediately, lowering his head, "Lord Roland Crakehall has sent his steward to invite you to tonight's banquet."
At those words, Karl's hand paused briefly on the door handle.
A subtle change appeared in his expression.
The warmth and relaxation from moments before vanished instantly.
An icy chill spread across his face.
His eyes became sharp and dangerous.
"If I remember correctly," Karl said slowly, "when we arrived at Crakehall as guests, we never accepted the bread and salt offered by Lord Roland, did we?"
The three Kingsguard exchanged confused glances.
They did not immediately understand why their king would suddenly ask about guest right.
Yet the coldness in his voice made their hearts tighten.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Karl looked out the nearby window into the darkening evening sky.
Then he answered his own question.
"No."
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
The kind of calm that came before bloodshed.
"We never did."
He turned back toward the three white knights.
A dangerous light flashed within his eyes.
"Then hear my command."
The corridor suddenly felt colder.
"In the name of the King, I accuse Roland Crakehall of Crakehall and all those involved with him of conspiring with my enemies and plotting the murder of their lawful king."
The three Kingsguard stiffened.
Karl continued.
"I order you to immediately arrest every member of House Crakehall connected to this conspiracy."
"Inform Bronn and Sandor Clegane."
"Have them gather the troops and secure the castle."
His voice became deadly.
"Anyone who resists..."
"Kill them."
Silence followed.
The order was so sudden that even the Kingsguard found themselves momentarily frozen.
Only moments earlier, Karl had been enjoying the hospitality of House Crakehall.
Now he was ordering the arrest of the very lord hosting him.
And not merely arrest.
Execution.
Karl clearly intended to drown this castle in blood if necessary.
Without another word, he flipped his wrist.
A dragonbone-hilted dagger appeared in his hand.
He handed it to Ser Arys Oakheart.
"Use this as proof of my authority."
The knight accepted it with both hands.
Though questions filled his mind, he did not ask a single one.
A Kingsguard obeyed.
That was his duty.
Whether the king commanded mercy or slaughter, his sword moved according to the king's will.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The three white knights bowed.
The sound of armor echoed through the corridor.
An invisible killing intent spread through the air.
Protecting the king was their sacred responsibility.
And now their king had informed them that someone intended to murder him.
Nothing else mattered.
As they prepared to leave, Karl suddenly spoke again.
"Ser Balon."
Balon Swann stopped.
"You will remain here."
The knight immediately turned.
Karl glanced toward the closed chamber door.
"Protect the woman inside."
"No one enters."
"No one leaves."
"Anyone who attempts either without my permission dies."
Balon nodded.
"Understood, Your Majesty."
"And watch her carefully."
Karl's gaze lingered on the door for a moment.
"She is not to leave that room."
After giving his final instructions, Karl walked toward the window.
Outside, darkness had completely fallen.
The wind howled through the night.
Heavy clouds rolled across the sky.
Rain was coming.
A storm.
Karl stared into the darkness.
A rainy night.
Strong winds.
Perfect weather for killing.
For the first time in a long while, he felt a familiar sensation.
The feeling of carrying a blade through the darkness while bloodshed waited ahead.
Ser Balon Swann remained behind.
Meanwhile, Ser Arys Oakheart and Ser Marlin Warwick hurried away to carry out their orders.
Neither knight acted recklessly.
They did not raise alarms.
Nor did they openly accuse anyone.
Instead, they moved swiftly through the castle until they found Bronn.
The sellsword had just finished eating.
At the moment, he was lying comfortably atop a pile of hay inside the stables, preparing for a peaceful night's sleep.
His eyes had barely closed when torchlight appeared.
Bronn opened one eye.
"What?"
"The King has issued an order."
Ser Arys Oakheart's expression was grim.
"You and Sandor Clegane are to gather the troops immediately."
"You are to arrest all members of House Crakehall and secure the castle."
Bronn blinked.
Then blinked again.
For several seconds he simply stared.
"...What?"
He wondered whether the wine he drank earlier had somehow gone bad.
After all, Lord Roland Crakehall had only recently sworn loyalty to the king.
How had things escalated to this?
But the expression on the Kingsguard's face made it clear.
This was no joke.
Arys quickly lowered his voice.
"House Crakehall has conspired with enemies and attempted to murder His Majesty."
"The king has ordered their arrest."
"Most of the family is gathered in the great hall preparing for the banquet."
"If we move quickly, we can secure them before they react."
Marlin Warwick added quietly,
"Arys and I will seize Lord Roland."
"You must gather the troops."
Only then did Arys hand over the dragonbone-hilted dagger.
The royal symbol left no room for doubt.
Bronn finally sat upright.
The annoyance on his face disappeared.
Instead, a dangerous grin appeared.
"Attempted to murder the king, eh?"
He chuckled.
Now things were getting interesting.
Without wasting another moment, the two Kingsguard departed.
Bronn watched them disappear into the darkness.
Then his smile widened.
Within the shadows of the stable, his eyes gleamed like those of a hungry wolf.
Meanwhile, inside Crakehall's great hall, the atmosphere could not have been more different.
The hall blazed with light.
Servants carried steaming platters of food between rows of long tables.
Wine flowed freely.
Laughter filled the air.
Members of House Crakehall feasted alongside household knights, retainers, and honored guests.
At the high table sat Lord Roland Crakehall.
Beside him remained an empty seat reserved for King Karl.
But no one seemed concerned by the king's absence.
The celebration continued regardless.
Roland raised a goblet.
He toasted his wife.
Then his brother.
Then the visiting guests from Highgarden.
His face glowed with satisfaction.
He knew exactly who had been sent to Karl's chamber.
The arrangement had been carefully planned.
Highgarden wanted to strengthen ties.
House Crakehall wanted influence.
The opportunity benefited everyone involved.
Even if the scheme failed, Roland risked nothing.
If it succeeded...
The rewards could be enormous.
He smiled and drained another cup of wine.
Outside, thunder growled in the distance.
A storm approached.
Yet inside the hall, the mood remained joyful.
No one noticed the danger creeping toward them.
No one realized that armed men were already moving through the castle.
And no one suspected that before the night ended, Crakehall would be drenched not in rain—
But in blood.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)