..."You truly are a humorous and witty man, Lord Arthas."
While Joffrey was plotting his grand plan to kill his uncle, Arthas had already charmed the naive Sansa until her heart fluttered, her silver-bell-like laughter never ceasing.
Looking at the young girl before him, whose eyes shimmered like autumn pools, Arthas knew it was time.
He stood up gracefully and asked her softly:
"You are also a very beautiful Young Miss, Sansa."
"However, I have some business to attend to and must leave first. Why not come to my place for dinner tonight? We can have a good chat then, how about it?"
It wasn't that Arthas was acting on lust; it was simply that because The Imp remained unconscious, he had no idea what had actually happened.
A letter from the Gold Cloaks searching along the Kings Road last night mentioned they had discovered an inn in the Riverlands that had been frozen into an ice sculpture.
Aside from his own Necromancy, he doubted any other power could achieve such an effect.
Strangely, however, although the Gold Cloaks found many Riverlands knights inside the inn—including the frozen corpse of Ser Rodrik, who was loyal to House Stark—they found no sign of Catelyn Tully.
He knew Catelyn Tully had secretly come to King's Landing to meet Varys, but he had been too busy arranging the King's Landing riots those days to pay it any mind.
But now that Ser Rodrik, who had accompanied her, was frozen into an ice sculpture while Catelyn had vanished, it was worth investigating.
Therefore, Arthas set his sights on Catelyn's biological daughter, Sansa Stark.
By using her Soul as a medium to perform Necromancy, he should be able to find out what exactly happened in the Riverlands that day.
And... "I would be delighted, Lord Arthas."
"I am still waiting for you to tell me about the heroic scene where you dueled ten Lannister knights at the City Watch Tourney grounds!"
Seeing Sansa's eager expression, Arthas knew she would be very cooperative when the time came.
That was for the best; if she cooperated, there would be almost no damage to her Soul.
It wasn't that the former lich king had grown soft-hearted, but rather that in this new life, he felt it was sometimes better to integrate into the normal life of the living.
Back in Azeroth, unless forced by necessity, he hadn't particularly enjoyed dealing all day with undead that could only snarl and roar.
"Then it's a date, Young Miss Sansa."
"But the Tourney is about to begin. Are you not competing?"
Seeing Arthas making a move to leave, Sansa tried to linger and keep him there a while longer, reluctant to see him go.
"A Tourney of this Rank is simply not worthy of my participation."
Leaving behind a kind smile, Arthas's elegant and tall figure slowly receded from Sansa's sight... "Alright, for the sake of The Seven, let us begin the slaughter already!"
On the stands, Robert, who had truly lost his patience, had bloodshot eyes as he watched the messy crowd below still making preparations, urging them on anxiously.
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
Under the King's constant urging, several squires hurriedly nailed the last wooden stake into place.
"The first match: Jory Cassel versus Tyrion Frey!"
With a loud shout, two knights who weren't particularly famous sat on their steeds at opposite ends of the field, facing each other from a distance, each holding a blunted standard-issue lance.
Even though special polishing had reduced the power of the lances to a minimum, the knights still did not dare to be careless.
Because of the impact force brought by a charging horse, if a lance struck the chest directly, even heavy armor would be unable to defend against it.
Consequently, the Tourney was a sport with very heavy casualties... Passing through the crowd, Arthas did not intend to watch these boring matches. He walked slowly through the somewhat deserted streets of King's Landing toward the Red Keep.
"Look, isn't this our Lord Arthas?"
Just then, a crisp voice sounded from behind, seemingly tinged with a hint of dissatisfaction.
"Following the commander of the city watch is not a good habit, Young Miss Margaery."
With a light chuckle, Arthas turned around to see the Little Rose, Margaery Tyrell, standing not far away in a soft, pale yellow gown.
Her brown eyes, flashing with anger, held a touch of grievance.
"I am still waiting for you to tell me about the heroic scene where you dueled ten Lannister knights at the City Watch tourney grounds!"
"My dear 'Lord Arthas'!"
An angry Margaery repeated the conversation Arthas had just had with Sansa, looking every bit like a wife catching her husband cheating.
"It seems you not only enjoy following people but also have a habit of eavesdropping on others' conversations."
With a playful smile on his face, he seemed to quite enjoy seeing the expression of this thorny rose, who was so skilled at manipulating hearts, being thwarted.
"What is so good about that stupid Stark girl?"
As if seeing through Arthas's thoughts, Margaery instantly regained her usual warm smile and walked up to him with light steps, wrapping her arms around his, unceremoniously pressing her ample chest tightly against him.
"She's just a little girl; has she even flowered yet?"
"Competing with your own nephew for a woman is not something the Lord Arthas I know would do."
"Or is it that Lannister would rather fight the royal family for a chance to marry into House Stark than join forces with the equally wealthy House Tyrell?"
Looking at the slightly jealous Little Rose, Arthas knew she had made her point very clearly. If he didn't respond now, it would be tantamount to pushing her away.
"I have my own reasons, Margaery."
For once, he did not address her as 'Young Miss.' Arthas looked into her eyes very seriously, his tone incredibly sincere.
"Believe me, if Lannister has plans for a marriage alliance, House Tyrell will definitely be my first choice."
On this matter, Arthas was not lying.
From their interactions during this time, she had surprised him in many ways.
This girl possessed the fine traditions of House Tyrell and knew how to judge the situation. Whether in terms of family background, intellect, or personality, Margaery was a very good marriage partner.
Furthermore, although she had been as proactive as a prostitute on Silk Street in front of him, Arthas knew that the seemingly scandalous Margaery was actually a maiden who had not yet experienced the world.
It was just that, for the time being, he had no intention of pursuing romance.
Especially after hearing that name from across the Narrow Sea yesterday... "Hmph, then I shall wait for your father to formally propose an alliance to my grandmother, Arthas."
Seeing that his expression did not seem fake, Margaery felt only sweetness in her heart. She took the opportunity to call him by his name; it seemed her efforts these past few days had not been in vain after all.
Moreover, she had a premonition that this golden-haired youth would definitely be something much more than just the lord of casterly rock and warden of the west in the future.
Because in Arthas's eyes, she saw the same thing she possessed—a pride belonging solely to a king.
Somehow, looking at Arthas's handsome profile, an inexplicable emotion called love surged into Margaery's heart. With a sweet smile, she just kept staring at him, as if she could never see enough... "Arsath Lannister!"
Just then, a furious shout broke the sweet atmosphere on the street.
The two looked toward the sound and saw a man with long black hair and a slender build standing in the middle of the road, seemingly having waited for his arrival.
The man had wrinkles left by time, thin eyebrows, and eyes like a venomous snake as dark as an eternal night. He stared intently at the pair who seemed to be in love, a cold smile curling at the corners of his mouth:
"I am truly sorry to interrupt your sweet moment."
Though he spoke words of apology, there wasn't the slightest hint of embarrassment in his sinister eyes.
"Who are you?"
Shielding Margaery behind him, Arthas felt that this man was somewhat different. Judging by his aura alone, the man's strength was likely not inferior to Syrio's.
"Oberyn Martell!"
Introducing himself simply and clearly, Oberyn Martell looked warily at Arthas, who was known as the first knight of the seven kingdoms. Although the other man just seemed to be standing there casually, a keen intuition told him that this person was extremely dangerous!
Clearly, he was the one lying in wait, yet at this moment, it felt as though he had become the prey.
The muscles on Oberyn's body were tensed, like a beast that could launch an attack at any moment.
"Oh, I remember now."
After a moment of thought, Arthas finally spoke indifferently, as if with delayed realization:
"The Red Viper of Dorne, right?"
"I didn't expect the first knight of the seven kingdoms to have heard my name. It truly is an honor."
Oberyn's voice was raspy, matching his sinister aura perfectly.
"For a dignified Prince of Dorne to block the path of the commander of the city watch in King's Landing, I imagine there must be something very important."
Having confirmed the man's identity, Arthas's tone was icy, implying that if Oberyn didn't have a legitimate reason, there would be hell to pay today.
"Hand over The Mountain."
Although Arthas seemed strong, Oberyn was also very confident in his own strength.
"I know he is currently under your command, Arthas."
"That beast raped and murdered my sister Elia; I want him to pay with his life!"
Contrary to Oberyn's expectations, Arthas did not get angry at his threat; instead, he looked at him as if he were an idiot.
"I have heard a bit about that matter."
"I am just curious. For so many years, you cowered in Dorne, afraid to go find trouble with Tywin, yet now you come to King's Landing to spout arrogant words at me."
"Do you think I'm that easy to bully?"
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