Hearing Kal Stone's words, and watching the way he moved the pieces across the map, Bronze Yohn fell silent for several seconds.
Then he understood what Kal meant to do.
"Don't tell me… you mean to deal with the threat to King's Landing yourself?"
Yohn Royce's gaze no longer saw a reckless youth before him. Now, he looked at Kal as though at a hero.
"Tell me you know what you're doing, Kal." Lord Yohn Royce no longer bothered with honorifics when he called Kal's name; he spoke to the young man as an elder now.
"Lord Royce, I think you have forgotten—I am not alone."
Kal's smile grew even more composed at the expression of concern.
"I am glad that when I left the Eyrie I had already considered dealing with the highland clans in the Mountains of the Moon."
"I am even more glad that I managed to subdue them."
As he spoke, Kal drew forth the dragonbone-hilted dagger that Robert had given him when he was knighted, and set it before Bronze Yohn.
It was the best testament to the road of conquest he had traveled on this journey.
"You have seen my personal strength. I believe, in some measure, I will not disappoint."
"And I think—if the wildmen of the mountain clans I bring with me surprise you, then they will certainly surprise Tywin Lannister as well."
Kal glanced at the dagger in his hand and added one more thing. Then, unexpectedly, he pulled the blade free and with a single motion drove it into the spot on the map that marked King's Landing.
Kal released his grip.
The dagger's pommel—carved of dragonbone and set with dragoncrystal—throbbed as it stood trembling on the wooden table, making a low, resonant sound.
"I will take them with me and wrest King's Landing back from the Lannisters."
"As for what you must do, my lords: fulfill King Robert's dream—cut off Tywin's head and impale it atop King's Landing's gates on a spear."
"That will be the greatest solace for the lives in King's Landing lost because of him."
When Kal finished, he had answered the questions of every man present.
They swallowed reflexively as they looked at the dagger quivering on the table.
Jon Snow stood behind Kal, staring up at the young man's back as if gazing at a mountain.
Samwell Tarly gaped, eyes wide and round, unable to speak a single word.
Although stunned by Kal's resolve, Yohn Royce—after a moment's thought and finding nothing improper in the plan—slowly rose to his feet.
"By your command, Warden of the East!"
"And I give you my word: the Iron Throne will be the side that triumphs. The king shall have Tywin Lannister's head!"
...
After making his decision, Kal did not linger in Maidenpool.
Once the council ended, Kal allowed himself only a single day to make preparations.
This campaign would see all forces of the Vale dispatched to the Riverlands, to take part in the final battle soon to come.
Maidenpool was left with a garrison of about 500 men—elite cavalry directly under House Arryn of the Eyrie.
Partly they remained to serve as a wartime reserve and to safeguard the supply lines.
But more importantly, they were tasked with protecting the young Lord Robert Arryn.
If good news reached them from King's Landing, Robert Arryn would travel there under their protection.
If the war went poorly, they would spirit him away back to the Vale.
It was, all in all, a sound arrangement.
On the third day, before departing, Kal—as was his habit—left Robert two more vials of potion, hoping the boy might grow stronger and not remain a sickly, nervous wretch.
At the very least, since he had drunk the potion back in the Mountains of the Moon, Robert had gone more than a month without suffering another seizure. His health was now visibly improved.
This, in turn, earned Kal even greater trust from the Blackfish, Yohn Royce, and the others.
It was a favorable sign.
Gathering his band of wildlings—those he had drawn out from the deep mountain forests—Kal set out for his next destination, Duskendale, in a clamor of noise and excitement.
From Maidenpool, two roads led to King's Landing: one through Duskendale, the other along the coast.
Taking the main road through Duskendale and then by Rosby was far quicker than striking out across open wilderness in a straight line toward the capital.
Time now was as precious as gold, and every moment might decide fate itself. Kal could not afford waste.
As for the clansmen who followed him, Kal could not yet provide them all with proper arms and armor.
He had first plundered the wealthy Lord William Mooton of Maidenpool, then gone begging to the likes of Yohn Royce and other prosperous Vale lords. Only thus had he barely managed to replace his army's rusty weapons—or the hardened bone clubs they had boiled into makeshift arms.
As for armor, Kal could do little more. After spending no small effort and favors, in the end he had only been able to outfit a handful of his hardiest warriors with a few sets of leather cuirasses that were not too shabby or threadbare.
Although he could have pulled out a heap of plate or chain mail straight from the game world, this was clearly not the time to expose his secret.
For now, he would have to slowly re-equip the wildlings bit by bit.
Yet even as he led the tribesmen—new weapons in hand, shrieking with excitement like a pack of monkeys—out of Maidenpool, the chorus of cries behind him filled Kal with a strange sense of shame.
The feeling made him long to blink straight into King's Landing and, warhammer in hand, slaughter the Lannisters by the dozen.
At this moment, he felt only boredom and a flush of embarrassment, as though only rivers of blood could wash away his awkwardness.
He resolved silently that, once time allowed, he would have to retrain these wildlings—hammer them back into proper shape before unleashing them again. Otherwise, their ridiculous spectacle was unbearable.
His days as a mercenary were one thing.
But even just in this war, the two forces he had commanded—a Stark cavalry host and the elite of House Arryn—had both been units that drew admiring stares wherever they marched.
Now he had more than two thousand under his banner, and though their numbers and momentum were impressive, the looks they drew were of a different sort.
The awe in others' eyes had turned into the startled curiosity reserved for watching monkeys.
Having once savored fine meat, Kal found it impossible to stomach coarse husks.
Suppressing his shame, after leading his host about 1.5 kilometers down the road from Maidenpool, a group of some thirty to fifty mercenaries by the roadside caught his attention.
One man in particular stood out—lean of frame, with black hair, black eyes, and a rough stubble, his gaze sharp and feral like a hungry wolf. He was singing as he lounged, his voice carrying over the noise.
"By the spring, six maidens fair—"
Hearing the tune, Kal turned his gaze toward them.
He recognized the song. It was called Six Maidens in the Pool, describing six shy and lovely girls bathing by the waters—a song tied to Maidenpool.
Pulling on the reins, Kal halted his horse, stopping scarcely 5 or 6 meters from the band.
"Who are you, and why are you waiting here?"
Kal's voice was cautious as he looked over the mercenaries, their belongings and supplies piled up at the roadside.
But though he addressed the company, his eyes were fixed on the man who had been singing.
Noticing that he had drawn the attention of the young man now spoken of as the new Warden of the East, Bronn let the last notes of his song fade.
He rose from the stone where he had been reclining, brushed the grass from his breeches, and turned to Kal with a smile, bowing in a stiff, slightly awkward fashion.
"This morning I heard the birdsong at dawn. I thought perhaps the Seven were hinting that today would be my lucky day."
"It is an honor to meet you, esteemed Warden of the East. I hope a lowborn man waiting by the roadside has not disturbed your mood."
So Bronn answered Kal's question—standing, smiling, offering a bow, and greeting him in turn.
He wore only an old, battered cuirass of hardened leather, its edges frayed and curling from wear.
At his belt hung a plain longsword on the left, and a dagger on the right.
Seeing that the man recognized him, Kal began forming an impression of these mercenaries waiting by the roadside.
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