The moment the commotion erupted outside the hall, everyone inside immediately realized that something had gone terribly wrong.
King Karl's army had been stationed outside the castle, while Lord Roland Crakehall had just been seized by the Kingsguard and accused of conspiring with enemies to assassinate the King.
No one needed an explanation.
If such accusations had been made publicly, chaos had undoubtedly already broken out beyond the castle walls.
The realization only intensified the anger of those loyal to House Crakehall.
Many were family members.
Others were sworn retainers who had served the house for generations.
Weapons were drawn one after another.
The atmosphere instantly became explosive.
A single spark could ignite a massacre.
Feeling the cold edge of the sword pressing harder against his neck, Lord Roland Crakehall shouted desperately.
"Stop!"
"Everyone, stop!"
His terrified cries temporarily prevented the conflict from erupting and, more importantly, saved his own life.
Across the hall, the guests from Highgarden were equally stunned.
Only moments earlier, they had been drinking and laughing alongside the Crakehalls.
Now everything had descended into chaos.
"Damn it!"
"This is a trap!"
A Tyrell knight slammed his wine goblet onto the floor.
Crystal shattered.
Dark red Dornish wine splashed across the stone like fresh blood.
His face twisted with fury.
"Despicable."
"Shameless."
He had heard the entire conversation when the Crakehall steward informed Lord Roland of King Karl's arrival.
Yet now Karl's Kingsguard had suddenly arrested their host and accused him of treason.
To him, it looked like blatant extortion.
A scheme disguised as justice.
The blood-red wine spreading across the floor only fueled his anger.
Looking at the humiliated Lord Roland kneeling with a blade at his throat, he clenched his fists.
"Damn bastard."
"Greedy, shameless worm."
But he was far from the only person cursing.
Outside, thunder rolled through the night sky.
Rain hammered against the castle walls.
The sounds of fighting echoed from beyond the hall, mixing with the furious voices inside.
The chaos made everyone even more anxious.
Many wanted to rush outside and discover what was happening.
Others remained focused on the crisis unfolding before them.
No one knew what to do.
No one wanted to make the first move.
For a brief moment, the entire hall stood frozen.
Leaderless.
Uncertain.
Dangerously close to violence.
Among the crowd, Tybolt Crakehall slowly raised his sword.
His eyes burned with fury as he stared at the two Kingsguard.
After a moment of thought, he stepped around Marlin Warwick's shield and addressed Ser Alex Oakheart directly.
As Lord Roland's eldest son and heir, only he possessed the authority to negotiate.
"Ser Alex Oakheart."
His voice was tense but controlled.
"I do not know what has happened, but I can assure you that House Crakehall has never intended to harm His Grace."
"There must be some misunderstanding."
"You cannot treat my family this way."
"Release my father, and I am willing to pretend none of this ever happened."
Tybolt swallowed his anger and attempted diplomacy.
Unfortunately, Alex Oakheart was not interested.
The Kingsguard knight merely snorted.
"Sorry."
"I don't find your joke amusing."
His sword pressed even closer to Roland's throat.
A thin line of blood appeared on the lord's neck.
Alex's voice became cold.
"I'll warn you one final time."
"Lay down your weapons and surrender."
"The evidence of House Crakehall's betrayal is undeniable."
"You have only one choice."
"Kneel."
Roland immediately cried out in terror.
"Careful!"
"Careful with that sword!"
Tears streamed down his face.
For the first time in many years, the proud lord looked completely broken.
Tybolt's expression darkened.
Both persuasion and threats had failed.
Alex Oakheart clearly had no intention of negotiating.
The situation seemed hopeless.
Then the Tyrell knight stepped forward.
Leaning close to Tybolt's ear, he spoke quietly.
"They're buying time."
Tybolt frowned.
"What?"
The knight kept his voice low.
"Their goal isn't your father."
"It's the castle."
"These men are simply holding him hostage while Karl's forces secure control outside."
"If we surrender now, everything is lost."
Tybolt's eyes widened.
The knight continued.
"The battle outside is what matters."
"If they seize the castle, your father cannot be saved."
"We must defeat their army first."
"Then we can deal with these men."
The logic struck Tybolt immediately.
Everything suddenly made sense.
Straightening himself, he turned toward the knights and guards gathered throughout the hall.
"Gentlemen!"
"We must secure the castle first!"
"Deal with the soldiers outside!"
"Then we can rescue my father!"
However, instead of moving, many of the household knights hesitated.
Their eyes drifted toward Lord Roland.
After all, their liege lord still had a sword pressed against his throat.
Alex Oakheart had heard every word.
How could he allow Tybolt's plan to succeed?
Raising his voice, he shouted:
"No one moves!"
"If anyone takes a single step, I'll slit his throat!"
The threat instantly froze the room again.
Roland nearly collapsed from fear.
"No!"
"Everyone stop!"
"We surrender!"
"We surrender!"
Then he looked desperately toward Alex.
"Ser Alex, please!"
"There must be some misunderstanding!"
"Let me speak with King Karl!"
"House Crakehall has never betrayed him!"
Alex ignored the plea.
Instead, he pressed the blade harder against Roland's neck.
The standoff continued.
Neither side was willing to yield.
Neither side knew how to proceed.
Then suddenly—
Clang.
A strange metallic sound echoed from outside.
Everyone turned toward the hall entrance.
Clang.
The sound came again.
This time accompanied by the distant rumble of thunder.
At that exact moment, lightning split the sky.
For a brief instant, the world turned white.
And within that flash, a figure emerged from the darkness.
A lone man walked through the rain.
Something heavy dragged behind him, scraping against stone and producing sparks.
Clang.
Clang.
Clang.
The sound echoed through the storm.
Step by step, the mysterious figure approached the hall.
An invisible pressure seemed to radiate from him.
No one spoke.
No one moved.
They simply watched.
Then the man crossed the threshold.
Candlelight illuminated his face.
The hall fell silent.
Someone whispered:
"Who is that?"
Most of those present had never seen him before.
But Lord Roland recognized him instantly.
His face turned ghostly pale.
"Your Grace!"
"King Karl!"
"This is a misunderstanding!"
"A terrible misunderstanding!"
"House Crakehall never intended to betray you!"
Panic filled his voice.
Forgetting dignity and pride, he begged for mercy.
At the same time, everyone else finally understood.
The man standing before them was King Karl himself.
And the massive bloodstained greatsword dragging across the floor made him look less like a king and more like a warrior sent by the gods to deliver judgment
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)