With corpses twitching and blood soaking into the carpet, the hall's atmosphere grew grim and strange.
Of those still standing, besides Kal and his companions, only four remained.
One was the aged Grand Maester Pycelle. He trembled as he stood, fear written across his face amid the slaughter around him, the chain at his neck clinking as it shook.
One was the Master of Coin, Petyr Baelish, Littlefinger.
Looking at those surrounding him, his eyes instinctively shifted toward Kal Stone, still standing beneath the great doors of the hall, his face turning somewhat pale.
As for the rest, aside from Amory Lorch, whom Varys had specially introduced earlier, only Kal's main target remained.
Kevan Lannister's expression was strange, his brow tightly furrowed. "Kal Stone, how did you get in here?!"
Faced with Kal Stone suddenly bringing slaughter to their doorstep, Kevan Lannister was indeed surprised, yet overall he did not seem panicked.
At that moment, he also noticed the eunuch spymaster standing behind Kal, and at once understood what was going on.
A slightly bitter smile touched his lips as he turned his eyes toward Varys behind Kal.
"Lord Varys, I've been looking for you for a long time, though I didn't expect we'd meet like this."
Surrounded on all sides by soldiers wearing a jumble of Lannister gear—reeking, with odd trinkets tangled in their beards and hair—Kevan's face showed not a trace of collapse before doom.
Seeing that Varys had actually brought the enemy right to him, he even smiled a little.
Even his tone with Varys sounded like two old acquaintances exchanging greetings.
At Kevan's pleasantries, Varys only shrugged.
"I can't guarantee, Ser Kevan, that you just wanted to reminisce—and weren't planning to stick my head on one of the iron pikes atop the Red Keep's walls."
"So I'm sorry to have disappointed your kind intentions."
Varys still wore those ragged beggar's clothes, but that familiar bald head and syrupy voice would never fool anyone who knew him.
"I did consider it, but sadly Lord Varys gave me no chance,"
Kevan admitted bluntly, still smiling.
Hearing that, Varys's eyes narrowed slightly; then he suddenly chuckled and looked toward his two colleagues who were, for the moment, still very much alive.
"Then I should count myself lucky. Perhaps when this is over I should find a sept and pray to the Seven."
"But I am curious—why is it that Grand Maester Pycelle and Petyr Baelish are both alive, yet you, Ser Kevan, have set your heart on taking my life?"
"My lord, I am but a poor eunuch."
Varys sounded genuinely curious, yet the look he cast at his colleagues was odd.
But whether Littlefinger or Pycelle—both were seasoned—neither could fail to hear the barb beneath his words.
Hearing the Spider speak such soul-piercing lines at a time like this, Littlefinger—still alive and standing with Kevan—could not help his face changing.
Even his voice carried a trace of panic.
He immediately shouted, "Varys, what do you mean by that?"
"Are you accusing us?!"
"Need I remind you that you, spymaster, ran and left us to our fate, which is how we fell into the enemy's hands? I tell you, I will impeach you before the King for this dereliction!"
Before the aged Grand Maester Pycelle could speak, Petyr Baelish had already rushed ahead, loudly berating Varys's inaction and threatening to denounce the damned eunuch before the King.
"Enough!"
Watching them still put on a play before him at a time like this, Kal had no patience to waste on them any longer.
With a single impatient shout from Kal, Varys could only take the hint and hastily lowered his head.
This scene made Petyr Baelish and Grand Maester Pycelle—who was trembling so badly he seemed unable to speak—exchange strange looks.
Yet after stopping the quarrel between the two, Kal did not pay them any more attention.
Instead, his gaze withdrew from the few men present and fell on the fully armored Amory Lorch.
Looking him up and down, this man in armor who looked even shorter and fatter, Kal asked, "Amory Lorch?"
Just seeing this stump-like face, Kal instantly recognized who it was.
Varys's veiled words had not been wrong—this man, even clad in ornate armor, still could not hide his short, fat frame, his pale pig face and beady little eyes, indeed fitting the title "pig" that Varys had given him.
No, if one were to compare seriously, even a pig looked more handsome than him.
"Yes, yes, that's me—Lord Kal, is there anything I can do to serve you?"
Amory Lorch had not expected that after Kal Stone stormed into the Red Keep, the first person he would notice was himself. Facing Kal Stone's height—slightly shorter than the Mountain—and the terrifying combat power he had already heard about from others, Amory Lorch thought hard and felt he hadn't done anything to offend this royal bastard.
Especially with six Lannister corpses lying right there on the floor of the throne hall.
At this moment he already clearly knew that his life lay in the hands of this towering giant, and his voice trembled as he spoke, full of fear.
If possible, he would have thrown himself to the ground and kissed Kal's feet, begging to be spared.
Seeing him admit it, Kal only gave a faint nod.
Then he waved his hand at the two clansmen beside him who had disarmed Lorch and pressed sharp weapons against his neck.
"Hold him down, strip off his armor. I think right now in King's Landing there must be plenty of people who want to meet him."
"As for in what way—"
Kal spoke, then suddenly turned his head toward Timett, who since entering the Red Keep had remained silent. "Perhaps you might have some other surprises?"
Timett had not expected Kal to address him. At that moment he and Bronn were pointing their longswords and scimitars at Kevan Lannister. He first showed a slight pause, the single eye flashing confusion, but immediately realized what his master meant.
At once the corner of his mouth curled up, that one eye fixed on Amory Lorch, and he let out a sinister, meaningful chuckle.
"Of course, my lord. Our tribe has a way of cooking where we put small knives into boiling oil to heat them, then slice the food piece by piece dipped in salt. If you think that's not enough, we have other ways as well."
After spending this time together, Timett had roughly grasped what kind of man Kal Stone was.
So the surprise he offered was right on point, and he even thoughtfully prepared more than one method.
Although these words might sound absurd to the poor and stingy mountain clans, after all, in those resource-scarce mountains there could be no way to use salt or oil like that, Kal was very satisfied and gave a nod.
He shifted his gaze from Timett to the clansmen who, upon hearing his order, had nimbly pressed Amory Lorch down like a pig and were tidying him up.
"Use some strength!"
"I think the people of King's Landing will really enjoy the surprise you bring them."
Watching Amory Lorch, who under the circle of fists and kicks could only howl in despair, Kal showed a satisfied smile.
As for Amory Lorch, pinned to the ground, being stripped of his armor while beaten, when he heard Kal's words about his fate, his screams grew even louder.
But he could not speak a single word of plea.
Because the fists and heavy boots falling on his face like raindrops gave him no chance to open his mouth.
And when the loyal clansmen, having carried out Kal's orders, finally bound the now stark-naked Amory Lorch with rope and flipped him over, apart from the bloodied face and teeth knocked out on the ground, Kal thought he looked even more like a pig.
So he waved his hand again, giving the final instruction.
"Keep him alive, don't let him die. At dawn tomorrow, I want the whole of King's Landing to see your performance."
"Oh, and bring him to the Great Sept of Baelor when the time comes."
"As for the slices of flesh cut off, place them piece by piece before him, let him see them with his own eyes."
Kal gave Amory Lorch his final judgment and the way it would be carried out.
This time, however, the naked Amory Lorch did not hear Kal Stone's pronouncement—he had already lost consciousness.
Then Amory Lorch was carried out of the hall, curtain falling on what belonged to him.
And this act of Kal's only made Littlefinger and Pycelle turn even paler with fear.
"Ser Kal Stone, I am sorry to say this to you, but may you allow an old man's counsel?"
Perhaps because he had thought of something, Grand Maester Pycelle tremblingly stepped forward and looked at Kal as he spoke.
Kal turned his puzzled gaze toward him. "And what high opinion does the Grand Maester hold?"
"Cough, cough—Ser, I would not call it a high opinion, only… if you wish to pronounce him sentenced to death, by the laws of the realm I think perhaps you would need His Majesty's command, or a ruling of the council."
This was the first sentence the Grand Maester had spoken since Kal entered the throne hall, but the content left people wondering whether the old man was simply senile.
Even Littlefinger and Varys, who had kept his mouth shut, could not help but glance at him strangely.
Yet facing this old Grand Maester's advice, Kal did not act as though offended.
On the contrary, as if genuinely reminded, his expression suddenly shifted in surprise.
"Oh, forgive me, Grand Maester, you see—I almost forgot such an important matter." Kal's face looked like that of a rash youth realizing he had done something wrong.
So he quickly turned his body and looked at the Master of Whisperers, Varys, whose expression was somewhat strange.
"So, Lord Varys, could you remind me tomorrow?"
"I think before Ser Amory Lorch is executed, I still need to, in front of him, declare his crimes and the outcome of his punishment in the name of the King."
"As Warden of the East, though it may be somewhat overstepping, I believe I should be able to represent the King."
"And as a councillor, I think I must also seek your opinion—this too is the respect due to the laws of the realm, is it not?"
Kal's face was full of seriousness, like an old-fashioned, uncultured apprentice.
"Most gladly, my lord," Varys reacted swiftly, his smile even more obsequious. "You have ample right and authority, and of course I also agree with your judgment upon Amory Lorch."
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