But just as Sam lowered his head in disappointment, Kal spoke from the other side of the training yard.
"Sam, if you wish to become a maester, I can write you a letter of recommendation—and I'll see that the Hand himself signs it as well."
"I believe he'd be pleased to do so. It's certainly better than going to the Wall and putting on black. That place might be overcrowded by now, for all we know."
Hearing this, Sam's face lit up instinctively as he turned toward the voice.
Yet the man who had spoken—Kal—was not even looking at him. Still holding a wooden staff in hand, he was steadily striking at the joints of a young boy before him, correcting the boy's posture.
There were indeed a few masters of swordsmanship or martial arts in the world of the game, and Kal had learned quite a lot from them.
So teaching a child was no problem for him.
Except, of course, for the young Lord of the Eyrie who would, from time to time, receive a sudden strike from Kal's training staff.
Under Kal's instruction, Robert Arryn wept as he cried out in pain again and again.
Ser Brynden, however, merely stood silently to the side, watching without the slightest intention of intervening.
Tears welled in the boy's eyes—he had never been so humiliated before.
Here, no one would speak up for him, and no one would indulge him.
Even the vassals of the Vale, upon learning how he was being treated, only smiled and praised Ser Kal Stone.
Yet in Kal's hands, the young Lord of the Eyrie had to spend at least five days a week in this hateful place, while the rest of his time was filled with various tutors teaching him different subjects.
Worst of all, if he ever failed to complete any of his lessons, Kal Stone would somehow know.
And then… the stick would come.
"Stand straight. Thrust quickly. Remember—only a direct stab gives you the shortest and fastest way to strike your enemy."
Seeing the once frail, nervous little boy—who would sometimes even have fits of seizures—lose focus again, Kal's eyes flashed sharply as his staff lashed out once more.
The young Lord of the Eyrie, Lord Robert Arryn, could only hold back his tears in humiliation, struggling to correct his posture.
Then, as if something occurred to him, Kal turned to Brynden Tully, who was standing nearby with folded arms, quietly observing.
"By the way," Kal said, "I heard there's a swordsman from Braavos here recently—supposedly a former First Sword of Braavos."
"From the sound of it, he must be quite skilled?"
"You mean Syrio Forel?" Brynden paused briefly at the name, then nodded as he recalled. "He's rather well-known in King's Landing these days."
"The former First Sword of the Sealord of Braavos—many are intrigued by him. Perhaps he's come to join your tourney of arms."
Brynden rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he spoke.
Receiving confirmation, Kal nodded.
"Good. Send someone to find him later. Tell him I'm willing to hire him to help train these brats."
"And I've also heard that the Stark children will soon arrive in King's Landing. I think Lord Eddard Stark will like this little gift I've prepared for him."
With that thought, Kal made the arrangements on the spot.
As the Warden of the East—Kal Stone, whose fame echoed across the Seven Kingdoms and who also served as Master of Coin among the King's advisors—such an arrangement was hardly a challenge.
Nor did he worry that Syrio Forel would refuse him.
In today's King's Landing, few dared turn down Kal Stone.
Though he no longer visited brothels and such places—
Even when Chataya had sent word offering her services to him free of charge, Kal had declined. He had never accepted anything without paying his due.
That, however, had quite infuriated King Robert—for it was his favorite brothel.
Yet she never served the king for free.
After all, whether merchants or nobles, everyone wanted to build good relations with the young Master of Coin.
And when speaking of the Stark family, Jon Snow was a name that could not be left unmentioned.
"Lord Kal, I heard that Jon has returned as well, but why haven't I seen him?"
Sam, who had been torn between following Maester Peyton or studying at the Citadel himself, eventually let Bronn off the hook. Hearing Kal mention House Stark, he followed up on the topic.
Looking at the fat man—who, after some time on a weight-loss regimen combined with a few potions Kal had occasionally provided, had made some progress—Kal smiled.
"These past two days he's been at the brothel. Prince Oberyn has been… very hospitable."
"Speaking of which, I expect we'll see him later. Prince Oberyn has invited me to attend his banquet. If you wish, you may come along."
"And indeed, quite a few people have arrived in King's Landing lately."
At this, Kal cast a deep gaze toward the clear blue sky.
Lately, King's Landing had become livelier than ever.
The newly established tourney had drawn widespread attention.
Even more so, the Baratheons, as victors of the war against the Lannisters, brought a very different sort of influence. Yet in Kal's eyes, most of these people had merely come to see if there was profit to be made.
After all, the king's queen was gone, and the heir to the Iron Throne remained undecided, the seat still empty.
And as for Kal Stone, whose merits now nearly overshadowed his liege—the king's firstborn child, yet a bastard nonetheless—rumors abounded among the common folk that Robert might soon move to legitimize him.
But the king had made no such move, nor had the Hand, Eddard Stark, given any indication.
Kal did not know what choice they would make.
But it hardly mattered.
After all, none of it truly mattered.
Power—only what rested in one's own hands was real.
At least, that was how he lived now.
As for the commotion he had just mentioned—most of it came from the Reach. The Tyrells of the south had arrived: Lady Olenna Redwyne, known as the Queen of Thorns, together with her granddaughter, the so-called "Rose of Highgarden," Margaery Tyrell.
Accompanying them was the valiant Ser Garlan Tyrell, who had once occupied Casterly Rock before being ordered by the Iron Throne to withdraw.
They had brought with them a sizable host, though it remained encamped at the estate they had purchased just outside the city.
Their numbers were neither many nor few—just within a tolerable range.
As for Dorne, Oberyn Martell's arrival came with little display of grandeur.
His entourage was small, consisting only of a few Dornish nobles of varying ranks and some guards and soldiers.
As for himself, he brought only his paramour and his bastard daughters.
Since Jon Snow had gone to the Dornish Marches carrying gifts of friendship to resolve a border dispute, he had somehow become an honored guest of House Martell.
Rumor had it that he had since been entangled with several of Oberyn's bastard daughters—though no one knew exactly what he was up to.
Meanwhile, Arianne Martell and the others who had resolved the crisis at Dragonstone across the Narrow Sea had arrived in King's Landing together with the king's brother, Stannis Baratheon.
The king's other brother, the Lord of Storm's End and Master of Laws, Renly Baratheon, after settling the affairs of his own domain, had also come to King's Landing leading several noblemen.
According to Varys, he seemed to have grown quite close to the Tyrells lately—though it was unclear whether King Robert knew of it.
Not that it would make much difference even if he did.
At the same time, from the Vale, the Riverlands, and even the Westerlands—recently defeated and stripped almost bare—along with many lords great and small from the Crownlands, a great number had arrived during this period.
Whether they had come merely to seek favor or to test the waters was uncertain.
Among all these factions, only the North remained absent.
The vassals of Lord Eddard Stark seemed wholly uninterested in the affairs of King's Landing, each remaining within their own holdings.
When Kal asked him about it, Eddard simply said that they were all busy preparing for the coming winter.
Although no white ravens had yet flown from the Citadel, the North had plenty to occupy itself with after the war.
Far from the capital, the northern lords truly had no time to join the commotion.
But Kal found nothing wrong with the Hand's foresight.
After all, he himself had been quietly making preparations.
Only, his preparations were different from everyone else's.
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