"Amory Lorch?!"
As soon as the cook's words fell, a voice filled with disbelief immediately followed.
Everyone looked over—it was Jon Snow who had spoken.
He had been listening intently to the cook answering Kal's question, his face full of shock and indignation, and he had subconsciously blurted out the name.
But once his voice broke the silence and drew everyone's eyes, the indignation on his face shifted to embarrassment.
So he had no choice but to explain, a little awkwardly.
"Father's guards once told us this story. Well… Robb and I overheard them talking in private."
He was still just a boy, and as Eddard Stark's bastard, he wasn't very good at lying.
As Jon recounted the tale, he turned his head toward the pitiful cook before him, whose face and body were covered with scars.
Then he continued telling the story from over a decade ago.
"I heard them say Princess Elia of Dorne and her children, Aegon and Rhaenys, their corpses were wrapped in red cloth and placed beneath the Iron Throne."
"They were offered as Tywin Lannister's proof of loyalty to His Majesty the King."
"And when Father arrived, what he saw was Jaime Lannister sitting on the Iron Throne, and beneath it, Aerys II Targaryen lying dead."
"After that, Father had a huge quarrel with King Robert, then marched south alone to finish the remaining battles."
"And later, he brought me back to Winterfell."
It was clear Jon Snow had a deep impression of the matter, otherwise he wouldn't remember so much.
Kal and the others who knew the truth had no reaction.
As for Timett and the rest, they had no concept of what he was talking about.
Varys silently rose and stood in the corner.
Everyone else merely looked at Jon with indifferent expressions, making him feel all the more embarrassed, before turning their eyes back to the cook.
Only Bronn stepped forward, patted the boy's shoulder, and comforted the poor lad.
"You still haven't told me where they are now?"
In the dim candlelight Kal's face could not be seen, only his heavy, low, slightly magnetic voice sounding unhurriedly.
"Some soldiers are guarding the main gate of the Red Keep. As for Kevan Lannister and the others—they are in the throne room."
Faced with the man's questioning, the cook answered carefully with what she knew.
But hearing this, Kal's voice carried a hint of doubt. "Hmm? What are they doing there?"
After all, ever since Kevan Lannister had not fled but instead strangely rushed into the Red Keep, Kal had been puzzled.
"My lord, I don't know—" Obviously, the cook could not answer his question.
Kal could only nod.
Since he was here now, the question no longer mattered.
So he didn't dwell on it, but instead rose from the stool he had been sitting on and slowly stepped toward the cook.
Looking down at the pitiful woman, from her bruised eye sockets and swollen, split lips, Kal could not tell her age.
He only knew that since she had personally lived through the last sack of King's Landing, she could not be young anymore.
Perhaps that was part of the reason she had survived.
The cook had not expected that the man questioning her from the darkness would be such a towering giant.
Faced with that pressure from the very level of life itself, she instinctively stumbled back and fell.
But a large hand reached out to steady her.
"I will report your deeds and merits to the King and the Hand, and also thank you for your contribution and loyalty to the realm."
"But perhaps before that, you should be more concerned about your injuries."
Once she had regained her footing, Kal released his hand from supporting her.
Before the woman could respond, he produced a bottle that still showed red liquid even under the dim candlelight.
"This is an excellent healing potion. I believe it can help you."
Seeing the gift, the woman's expression shifted for the first time. On her swollen, unrecognizable face, some trace of emotion surfaced.
Noticing that she did not dare reach for the bottle, Varys—who had quietly stood up when the woman entered—spoke from the side.
"This is Ser Kal Stone, His Majesty the King's eldest son, and the Lord Warden of the East personally invested by the King."
Varys had suddenly introduced who Kal was.
At Varys's quick wit, Kal merely smiled kindly at the woman, then forced the bottle into her hand.
He adjusted the gilded longsword at his waist and strode out of the room.
As he moved, the tribal warriors who had remained silent since arriving hurried after him.
"You had better drink it quickly. Its effect is strong."
Jon made sure to stay at the rear. He cast a glance at Varys the eunuch, then explained further to the woman.
He knew a bit about Kal Stone's miraculous potion—after all, he had drunk it himself.
That was after a training accident when an iron sword had broken his collarbone.
Under Jon's gaze, Varys said nothing more. He only forced a sycophantic smile, then turned and followed after Kal Stone, who had already left the room.
He did not spare a thought for the kind child still inside.
Catching up with Kal, whose stride had quickened, Varys's own steps echoed louder against the ground.
"Ser Kal, Amory Lorch is a short, fat man, with a pale, round face, and small eyes like a pig's—easy to recognize."
Half-trotting to keep pace with Kal Stone's long legs, he deliberately described Amory Lorch's appearance.
At this odd remark, Kal shot him a sharp glance. "Good. Perhaps there are more people in King's Landing who'd like to know him."
Giving that peculiar reply, Kal reached the doorway of the porch.
But before Varys could say more, Kal Stone suddenly twisted his head, and with a flash of steel, the torch fixed in the stone wall dropped.
Before the burning flame could hit the ground, a large hand reached out and caught it.
And before those around Kal could clearly see what had happened, they only heard the sudden whoosh of fire whipped by a fierce gust of wind.
Then, in the night, they saw the torch that had been in Kal's hand—its burning light turned into a single spark—vanish at a high wall a little over 30 m away.
In the darkness there came a low puffing sound, the flying spark halted, and then it began to burn again.
The grease rendered from special fish oil kept the flame from being blown out by the gale even after the torch was thrown.
So when the torch's flame rekindled and lit the surroundings, what people saw was only a Lannister soldier in gold-and-crimson armor, clutching his neck as he tumbled from the high wall.
And in his neck was precisely the torch Kal had thrown.
As for that Lannister soldier, from beginning to end he did not make a single sound.
Encased in heavy armor, his body slammed onto the floor tiles; that dull thud was the last sound he made in this world.
"What is in that direction?
Kal's sudden move startled everyone.
In their sight there had only been a few flickers of firelight, and then a man fell from the distant high wall.
By the time they reacted and saw what had happened, the Lannister sentry hiding in the dark had already lost his life.
Setting aside their shock at the frightening, unbelievable sight of Kal Stone, Varys, hearing his question, hurriedly looked up to make out the place.
The Lannister soldier killed by the torch Kal had thrown had fallen from a high wall beside the iron-topped drum tower.
"It looks to be the Grand Maester's tower. It's also where the ravens are kept, and where the maesters send and receive letters."
After roughly judging the direction in the night, Varys spoke.
Hearing this, Kal raised an eyebrow, but said, "Mm. I know. Let's find Kevan Lannister in the throne room first."
Unlike the others, Kal could clearly see figures still flickering past the windows of the tower he had indicated—that was why he had asked in the first place.
Although, after learning what the place was, he did find it odd what the Lannister men were doing there.
But for now the most important thing was to find Kevan Lannister; as for the rest, it could be handled afterward.
Varys, though puzzled, did not ask further and continued to lead the way.
Fortunately, the exit of the secret passage was not far from the throne room, because the place they had just been was a house beside the White Sword Tower.
The White Sword Tower was a slender four-story building, and also the quarters of the Kingsguard.
Yet those who should have been living there—the Kingsguard—were now either dead or gone.
Thinking carefully, it all seemed to have something to do with Kal.
Borrowing the moonlight, the group made their way through the darkness toward the throne hall. Outside the great bronze-and-oak doors of the throne room, the doors were not shut, and bright firelight flickered within.
After a chorus of chaotic clashes and screams, all suddenly fell silent.
All the way there, Kal's gilded longsword had not once left its sheath; every guard and sentry on the way had been dealt with by the thirty men he had brought, together with Jon and the others.
So when Kal stood outside the bronze-and-oak doors of the throne hall—
Looking up, aside from a long carpet stretching from beneath his feet all the way to the throne at the far end of the hall, there were not many people present inside.
It could even be said there were pathetically few.
As for the ones inside, they had all heard the sudden screams outside the hall, and at once turned with startled faces to look over.
But the only response they received was the sudden charge of the tribal warriors.
The gleam of blood-stained blades in their hands made it clear they were not to be trifled with.
Over thirty men easily subdued the mere ten within the throne hall.
Especially when the six Lannister soldiers in armor, clearly guards, had their throats cut in the confusion by the tribal warriors.
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