Kevan Lannister finished speaking those words, closed his eyes, and greeted death with equanimity.
But when the words left his mouth, Kal's heart leapt violently; his brows knitted tight, and the unknown that had long lurked in the back of his mind swelled anew.
"What did you do!"
Kal barked out at once.
After wasting so much time talking with this man, not a single useful piece of information had been obtained; instead, the man's calm demeanor had effectively insulted everyone present.
Looking at Kevan Lannister, who held his head high as if indifferent to life and death and utterly unconcerned for his own life, Kal realized that this fellow might be deliberately stalling for time.
And apparently, he had succeeded.
For the first time since he had entered, Kal Stone—who had seemed composed from the outset—now looked flustered.
A smile returned to Kevan's face.
"Want to know what I did?"
"I suggest you take a look in the Maesters' Tower at the ravens."
Kevan Lannister told Kal, without the least embarrassment, exactly what he had done.
"Ravens?!"
"You sent messages?!"
At the words Maesters' Tower and ravens, Kal suddenly recalled the scene he had come across earlier on his way to the throne hall.
At that time he had even asked Varys what that place was.
As Kal's realization dawned, his gaze involuntarily flicked to Varys; the hand on his sword-hilt tightened by the slightest degree.
A trace of murderous intent spread through Kal's mind.
But when he looked, Varys' expression had first gone blank for a moment and then, as if realizing something, his head snapped around and his burning eyes fixed on the bent, stooped Grand Maester Pycelle standing beside him, his old body trembling and his sight dim.
Noticing the oddness of the scene and tasting a hint that something was amiss, Kal sheathed his long sword once more.
"Of course, that is the very purpose of ravens, isn't it? But unfortunately for you, if you go searching now you probably won't find a single raven left."
Kevan spoke on, oblivious to Kal's movement and the hidden killing intent.
"Besides those already released, you might still find a few feathers and the corpses of the birds."
"So you didn't choose to flee; instead you—contrary to your usual self—returned to the Red Keep for this?" Kal asked.
He had reinined his expression and his tone had smoothed back to evenness.
Seeing how quickly he had regained control of himself, Kevan shrugged. "This is all I can do for House Lannister now."
"Even if the price is your life? Do you know what you're doing?" Kal's gaze grew dangerous.
"If you leave King's Landing, you might survive."
But to Kal's words, Kevan only had calmness.
After all, his task had already been accomplished.
At the same time, this was the only thing he could do for his brother Tywin Lannister and for the entire House Lannister, now that he had seen Kal actually breach King's Landing—held by thousands of his troops—with nothing but this ragtag handful.
"What does it matter if I die, Kal Stone? I die, but I can save many."
"Let this meaningless war end."
Kevan wore an expression of relief, even appearing relaxed; at this moment his shoulders no longer bore the fate of House Lannister.
...
Seeing that Kevan truly was not putting on an act—that he could so calmly surrender even his life—Kal felt a mix of emotions.
For a moment he did not know what word to use to describe this man.
From the preceding conversation one could sense how much he revered and loved his brother Tywin.
He would not permit anyone to speak ill of Tywin.
Just now, at Kal's single scornful remark, he had been able to fabricate such an array of reasons to "vindicate" his elder brother.
And, as one who had once viewed the fates of these people from a godlike vantage, Kal understood all the more clearly what kind of man Kevan Lannister truly was.
He was reserved in feeling, simple, dependable.
As Tywin Lannister's most trusted lieutenant, he had served under his brother for years; his loyalty and reliability were widely known.
He chose to live forever in Tywin's shadow, dutifully obeying his elder and finding joy in fulfilling his brother's will.
He never once acted before Tywin conceived the plan, and what he said usually implied that it was Tywin's design.
But Kal knew that the calm acceptance of death Kevan now chose could not possibly have been Tywin Lannister's idea.
He had been knighted by the "Red Lion," Roger Reyne, during the Battle of the War of the Ninepenny Kings.
He was the man his nephew Jaime described as resembling, in youth, a towering warrior.
After Tywin Lannister's death, Kevan proved by his own ability that he was talented and a competent leader.
Although he was never granted any lands, his strategic mind, faithful and excellent counsel, and personal charisma nonetheless made him an outstanding figure.
In the original account, through his seasoned diplomacy and leadership he mitigated the damage caused by Cersei.
He then successfully reached an understanding with House Tyrell and rebuilt the alliance, and strove to secure the Faith's support for Tommen I's rule.
This string of steady, successful political maneuvers forced Varys to take matters into his own hands and have him assassinated.
All so that Kevan would not succeed in repairing and consolidating the Lannister-Tyrell alliance's hold on the Iron Throne, and thereby become a serious threat to Aegon.
With that, the man's life drama drew to a close and the curtain fell.
Recalling everything about Kevan Lannister, Kal took a deep breath, raised his hand, and drew the gilded longsword at his waist.
"I will grant you—," Kal said in a low voice.
Seeing the sword in Kal's hand, Kevan smiled faintly.
"This is Jaime's sword; he once used it under the Iron Throne to cut Aerys's throat."
"You do not want me to use it?" Kal's voice was no longer so severe.
At those words, Kevan only shook his head. "No, Kal Stone, you have never dishonored it, and you are a true knight."
Kal made no reply to Kevan Lannister's praise.
He merely held the gilded longsword and walked slowly to Kevan Lannister's side.
The blade flashed cold under the candlelight and bonfires, the tip of the longsword angling toward the ground as Kal looked at Kevan before him.
"Then let me use it to see you off."
"It is a great honor to die by the same sword as the king; I only hope this is the second time it has tasted blood beneath the Iron Throne."
Kevan did not care how he died, so after speaking those words with a faint note of admiration, he closed his eyes again.
He stood straight, tilting his head high to facilitate Kal's execution.
A cold wind howled; a flash of cold light.
There came the single note of a sword—then Kal's longsword had already returned to its scabbard.
A few exclamations rang out.
At the metallic sound, at the instant the cold light bloomed, Kevan Lannister flinched instinctively.
But as the sword's note faded and the short cries echoed in his ears, he still felt no pain.
Slowly he opened his eyes; the scene before him was still as it had been.
He instinctively reached up and touched his neck; his head was still firmly on his shoulders.
A flicker of puzzlement crossed his mind.
Kevan turned instinctively.
What met his eyes was a fresh pool of blood on the floor, and a body split down the middle from the center of the forehead to beneath the armpits—two halves.
Two body-halves, one on the left and one on the right.
The internal organs had collapsed in the center, the gushing blood spreading into a river.
Amid the filth there still remained the last bits of living flesh, trembling slightly as they cooled.
"Why?!"
Touching his own neck and staring at the corpse before him, Kevan's eyes carried surprise and incredulity as he asked.
"He was the traitor within King's Landing, the rebel who betrayed the Iron Throne, was he not?"
To Kevan's question Kal's face was only calm.
"—From your perspective, yes."
Looking at the body on the ground and at the maester's chain woven from twenty-four strips of metal, Kevan fell silent for a few seconds, yet did not deny Kal's statement.
"Then there is no problem," Kal nodded and gave his answer.
Kevan lowered the hand covering his neck and looked at Kal with complicated eyes.
But Kal did not look at him.
He bent, picked up the maester's chain that had also been cleft in two by the sword, and reached into it for the Valyrian steel ring within.
Then he discarded the remaining items that were of no use to him, and turned to face Kevan with an expressionless face.
"Sir Kevan, you will spend the coming time in the dungeon. I will have someone leave you a single chamber there; I hope you will grow accustomed to it."
"But did you not say you would take my head to account to those who died in King's Landing?"
Kevan was not satisfied with Kal's answer.
Nor was he surprised anymore that Kal had suddenly killed Grand Maester Pycelle.
Yet faced with Kevan's question, a scornful smile tugged at the corner of Kal's mouth.
"Because I think Grand Maester Pycelle was right: for people of your station, perhaps it is more fitting that the king himself carry out the judgment."
"And this is not a battlefield, and didn't you just praise me as a true knight?"
Kevan's face showed displeasure. "Then I suppose I should withdraw my praise."
At Kevan's petulance, Kal merely wiped the blood from the Valyrian steel ring on the maester's chain with his finger and slipped it into his pocket.
"But you know, I do not care for that praise, and may I not change my mind?" Kal said without hurry.
But having said that, Kal lost his patience.
He pointed at the four tribal warriors. "Take him to the dungeon. If you can't find him, ask around. Watch him—don't let him kill himself."
"I am not the sort to kill myself," Kevan said, plainly displeased.
"Have you ever heard of someone who was struck thirteen times in the back?" Kal asked calmly.
"Then perhaps it should be called murder."
"Good that you know."
"But what value do I have to be murdered? Right now the most valuable thing on me is this head!" Kevan argued stoutly that he could still die.
Pressed like this, Kal grew even more impatient.
His cold eyes swept over like blades.
"Do I look that stupid—to let you die here?"
"Sir Kevan, don't be fanciful. And I'm sorry to tell you, you are worth more to us alive than dead!"
"That is the value you have secured for yourself!"
"Take him away!"
Sensing their lord's displeasure, the four tribal warriors who had been singled out hurried forward and restrained Kevan Lannister.
Seeing that Kal remained composed, Kevan abandoned his desire to die.
But before he left he still had one last line.
"Kal Stone, you truly are a real knight—a clever knight. But I think perhaps you would make a fitting king; should you ascend the Iron Throne, it would be the Seven Kingdoms' honor."
With that, Kevan Lannister obediently shut his mouth and, with the four warriors guarding him, left the throne room.
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