Deep within the Lions Den, silence reigned.
Arthur sat on the edge of the bed in the Lord's bedroom, with only a single candle lit in the room. He spread his right hand, palm up, and a thought formed in his mind.
He softly murmured, "Flame."
Arthur's eyes widened. A wisp of flame, eerily, inexplicably, shot out from the very center of his palm. It was only the size of his pinky finger's joint.
Its color was a bright orange, quietly flickering, without a sound.
The glow of the flame reflected in his deeply illuminated eyes. There was no surprise in those eyes, only a probing curiosity and confusion about this strange phenomenon.
He tried again, extinguishing it, then silently repeating, "Flame."
The wisp of flame reappeared, still the same size, as docile as a tamed animal—no, a tamed flame.
He closed his eyes, and the bloody, cruel scene he had personally drawn uncontrollably flooded his mind: the wildlings twisting in the raging fire, fleeing everywhere with nowhere to hide, finally burned alive by the flames. Their screams seemed to still echo in his ears, his vision enveloped by the blood-red firelight.
And in that distorted light and shadow, he saw a magnificent golden goblet slowly emerge. A hand, wearing a ring with a blue crystal, reached out a finger and lightly touched the blue crystal into the goblet.
"Is it poison? Is this flame revealing a conspiracy, or something else?" Arthur suddenly opened his eyes, and the flame in his palm flickered with his movement. He thought of something very serious: "Could the origin of this flame be that burning? Did those lives consumed by fire exchange for this bit of flame's power?"
"No way…" he murmured to himself, his throat dry.
Arthur extended his hand, pointing at a distant, unlit candle. The candle's flame ignited out of thin air, proving that this flame was by no means his imagination, but possessed real destructive power.
He tried to control the small wisp of fire. With a slight thought, the flame stretched, transforming into a running wolf, then contracted, becoming a fish swimming in the air, and finally turned into a rabbit with perked ears, hopping. Its forms were remarkably lifelike. Although it could leave his palm, it could never grow larger.
Arthur frowned, a strong chill rising in his heart. "What exactly is this? Or, to gain true power, to enhance the flame, does he really have to… continue to burn people?"
This thought, like a venomous snake, crawled up his leg, making him shiver all over. He shook his head, keeping himself clear-headed.
Just as he was lost in thought, a suppressed shout and dull thud of bodies hitting each other suddenly came from outside the door.
Arthur's eyes sharpened. The small, pinky-sized, wolf-shaped flame that was running in the distance instantly extinguished.
"Damn it… let go of me! You damned wildling women!!!"
This was Hake's voice, exasperated, followed by a dull thud, as if something heavy had fallen to the ground, then a few short, gruff female shouts.
Arthur stood up, walked quickly to the door, and abruptly pulled open the heavy wooden door. The sight outside made him pause, then feel a mix of amusement and exasperation.
Hake was sprawled on the ground in an extremely disheveled posture, one hand reaching out futilely, his face covered in dust.
Standing tall and athletic before him was the wildling chieftain's daughter, holding a long spear, its cold tip pointed at Hake's throat. Behind her stood three sturdy female wildling warriors, also armed. They blocked the doorway, forming an impenetrable defense, keeping Hake firmly outside the door.
The wildling chieftain's daughter's face was expressionless. Her deep eyes revealed nothing.
As soon as Hake saw Arthur, he seemed to see a savior and scrambled to his feet.
He didn't even bother to brush off the dust from his body, pointing at the wildling chieftain's daughter with a face full of anger: "Lord Arthur!"
"I have extremely urgent military intelligence to report to you! But this… this wildling woman, she and her subordinates, absolutely refused to let me in! And they knocked me to the ground!"
The wildling chieftain's daughter didn't even twitch an eyelid upon hearing Hake's accusation. She simply shifted her gaze from Hake to Arthur, with no hint of apology in her eyes, only inquiry.
She seemed to be saying in a silent language, "Without your command, not even a fly shall enter."
Arthur looked at the scene before him, and his mind couldn't help but recall the argument he had with Evelyn not long ago. That was the day he decided to appoint the wildling chieftain's daughter and her female warriors as his personal guards.
Evelyn's voice echoed in his memory, her sapphire-like eyes filled with worry, carrying a rare mix of excitement and incomprehension: "This is too absurd, my Lord Arthur!"
"Letting a group of wildlings be your personal guards? Heavens! You'll be the laughingstock of all the nobles in the Riverlands!"
"They'll say that the Black Lion of the Riverlands is a madman bewitched by wildling women!"
He had calmly replied then: "Don't the Stark family's vassals also include wildling tribes? Eddard Stark even likes to personally mediate disputes among the tribes."
Evelyn raised her voice: "That's different!"
"That's the North! Northerners and wildlings aren't that different! This is the Riverlands! The nobles here value court etiquette! Knight culture! Civilized norms! They will look down on you! Isolate you!"
Arthur remembered looking into her eyes then, saying word for word: "I was already at odds with the nobles of the Riverlands."
"My people… are also at odds with the Riverlands: farmers, bandits, merchants, exiles, wandering Knights, and before that, a mercenary."
"Even my subjects… are at odds with the Riverlands."
After all, no family's subjects in the Riverlands constantly hoped for war to profit from it… Although the final argument ended with Evelyn's compromise, the worry in her eyes never faded.
Arthur's gaze swept over Hake's disheveled face, finally resting on the wildling chieftain's daughter's sharply defined features. Now it seemed his decision was not wrong.
He nodded at her approvingly. With that simple gesture, the icy firmness in the wildling chieftain's daughter's eyes seemed to melt a corner, and her taut body relaxed slightly.
She retracted her spear, took a step back, and bowed her head to Arthur. The three female warriors behind her also put away their weapons, retreating silently like shadows to the sides of the corridor, clearing the way to the bedroom. The entire process was wordless.
Hake finally breathed a sigh of relief. He glared fiercely at the wildling chieftain's daughter's retreating back, then quickly walked to Arthur and pulled out a letter sealed with wax from his in my arms.
Arthur took the letter. The emblem on the envelope indicated it was sent from Daintings City. The envelope wasn't even properly sealed, clearly hastily done.
He tore open the seal, unfolded the letter. The handwriting on the letter was scrawled and urgent. Arthur silently read the letter. The general content was that Lady Roselyn had sent troops out of the city to repel enemies but suffered a disastrous defeat, calling her vassals… Hake stood by, not daring to breathe, nervously watching his Lord's expression.
After a long while, Arthur looked up, slowly closing the letter. He let out a long breath and softly said:
"It… finally came."
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