Seeing Jon's serious expression, Kal stopped joking, turned away from the window, and began walking toward the direction of the Throne Hall.
"You've been watching for quite a while just now. What do you think of the Gold Cloaks?"
"The Gold Cloaks?" Jon repeated in confusion, scratching his head.
"They look like the men you brought back from the Mountains of the Moon—"
That was all he could discern.
"Pfft—" Kal's tone grew impatient as he cut straight to the point. "Renly Baratheon has also returned to King's Landing, did you know that?"
"Of course. But I've heard he's been keeping rather close ties with the Tyrell family lately."
Speaking of the other main figure involved in settling that dispute, Jon naturally knew and nodded readily.
"You seem to know quite a bit." Kal's eyes lit up.
At the turn of a stairwell, Kal stopped and looked down at the young man before him.
Jon halted as well, answering honestly and plainly.
"Prince Oberyn mentioned it once—he even mocked Lord Renly Baratheon."
Kal: "…."
To be honest, Kal now wasn't sure whether Jon's head had some problem, or whether Eddard Stark's education had simply been too successful.
This boy seemed utterly clueless when it came to politics.
"All right, my dear Ser Jon Snow, we're about to attend a council meeting presided over by your father, with the King himself present."
"What I need to tell you is that this will be a council watched by all of the Seven Kingdoms—where countless interests will be in conflict."
Kal looked at the young knight before him, who stood with a blank face and slightly dazed eyes, as if still half-asleep.
The corners of Kal's mouth curved into a thin, false smile, and he spoke in a tone of helpless frustration.
"But there are many things we must fight for ourselves. For example—the Gold Cloaks, that is, the commander of the City Watch."
Kal pointed back toward the place they had come from.
"Ser Janos Slynt is dead, and that position remains vacant. More importantly, it's still empty to this very moment."
"And I want you to take that seat. Understand?"
Kal stated his purpose plainly, and Jon finally grasped what he was getting at.
But he tilted his head slightly.
"Me?"
"Yes—you, Ser Jon Snow. Perhaps you haven't realized it yet, but the merits you've earned are enough to grant you a respectable post."
"But—" Jon's face showed a clear lack of confidence.
"No 'buts,' Jon. Renly Baratheon is not only Lord of Storm's End—he also serves on the Small Council as Master of Laws."
"And the City Watch, also called the Gold Cloaks, are King's Landing's official garrison and enforcers—sworn solely to the royal family."
"So in principle, the City Watch falls under the jurisdiction of the Master of Laws. Do you understand?"
Jon understood what Kal was implying—he wasn't so dull as to miss it entirely.
But he still frowned, looking up at Kal Stone with confusion. "But, my lord Kal, isn't Lord Renly the King's own younger brother?"
"Then tell me—why do you think that after Lord Jon Arryn's death, the King's first reaction was to travel over three thousand kilometers to seek out your father?"
Kal's lips curved into a cold smile.
After speaking, he said no more.
He reached out, straightened Jon's collar, and adjusted the position of the longsword at his waist—the one Kal himself had given him.
Then, with one hand resting on Jon's shoulder, Kal's deep blue eyes locked onto Jon's gray ones.
"Remember, don't overthink it. If I'm not mistaken, the greatest purpose of today's council will be to reward merit and distribute honors."
"Jon, whether it's the King or your father, both would be glad to see you become commander of the City Watch."
"When the time comes, I'll speak on your behalf and recommend you. All you need to do is kneel on one knee, raise your sword, and swear your loyalty to your King."
As a member of the Small Council, Kal had the right to stand beside the Iron Throne—though his position was at the far end of the dais.
The King and the Hand had not yet arrived.
Yet the Throne Hall was already packed with people.
As Master of Coin, Kal stood together with the spymaster, Varys.
While catching the cloying sweetness of Varys's perfume, his gaze silently swept across the entire hall.
The Master of Ships—brother to the King, the realm's rightful heir in law, Lord of Dragonstone, and commander of the royal fleet—Stannis Baratheon, had also arrived.
He stood to the right of the Iron Throne, directly opposite Kal.
Looking at this bald, stern-faced man with his beard trimmed short and even, the elder brother of the King, Kal's eyes gleamed faintly.
Noticing Kal Stone's gaze, the taciturn, humorless man turned his head as well.
Their eyes met—Kal's deep blue meeting Stannis's hard stare.
Seeing that Stannis had noticed him, Kal tilted his lips upward and offered a polite smile.
"Hmph…"
Beneath the Iron Throne, Stannis Baratheon said nothing, responding only with a cold snort.
Renly Baratheon, who had just been exchanging flirtatious glances with someone among the crowd below, turned his head at the sound of that sudden snort, his face showing mild surprise—until he realized it had come from his brother.
Following Stannis's line of sight, he then saw Kal Stone standing opposite them.
Taking in that tall, broad frame and strikingly handsome face, Renly's own smile grew far more natural.
He leaned his head slightly toward Stannis and whispered in his ear, "He looks a lot like Robert in his younger days, doesn't he?"
"No. He's stronger than Robert was then—and more handsome. Even his deeds outshine Robert's."
As Renly spoke, he seemed to compare the Kal Stone before him with the Robert he remembered from his youth—and realized his brother was far inferior.
But Stannis clearly had no liking for such words from Renly's mouth.
He turned his face coldly and snapped without mercy, "Spare me your disgusting praise, Renly. He's nothing but a baseborn bastard!"
"And the Robert you speak of is your King!"
"Yet you can't deny that if not for him, you'd still be on Dragonstone drinking briny seawater and choking down sand from the beach with it."
Seeing that Stannis was still as insufferable as ever, Renly didn't bother to maintain his polite smile any longer.
His tone turned sharp with mockery.
After speaking, Renly shot his brother a sidelong glance before turning back toward Kal Stone.
"Even the seat before us—Robert might not be able to keep it for long."
At those words, Stannis fell silent, saying no more.
Meanwhile, Kal Stone appeared not to have heard their exchange at all. His gaze had already drifted past the few councillors standing with him upon the dais and settled on the front ranks below the hall.
Jon Snow stood together with his family—the Stark wolf cubs.
He looked excited, speaking with Arya Stark about something.
Catelyn Tully, however, did not publicly show any displeasure toward Jon this time. She didn't look at him at all, her gaze shifting elsewhere.
Standing beside her was Sansa Stark.
She wasn't mingling with the other noble ladies but was instead gazing up at the legendary knight whose fame resounded across the Seven Kingdoms—the Master of Coin upon the dais.
Her eyes shone as she looked at Kal, a faint blush coloring her cheeks, her expression dreamy.
Yet Kal's eyes were not on her.
They were instead fixed on the dwarf standing in front of her.
Looking at that hideous little man, Kal quietly raised his middle finger—a gesture only the two of them would understand.
The dwarf returned it in kind.
Just as Kal's eyes finished sweeping the hall, taking a moment to greet his old friend, a heavy sound echoed from the great bronze-and-oak doors at the far end of the hall.
They swung open, and two rows of eight Gold Cloaks stepped aside to make way.
Lifting their heads, they intoned loudly, "His Grace Robert Baratheon the First, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, of House Baratheon—arrives!"
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