As Margaery spoke, her tone carried a trace of confusion, and when she turned, the movement of her silken hair brought with it a faint, natural floral scent.
Kal could not tell what kind of fragrance it was; he only took the opportunity to ease the smile on his face.
Then, in a plain, straightforward tone typical of a blunt man, he directly answered Margaery's question.
"I'm not entirely sure either. To be honest, I've only ever seen living heart trees in the Eyrie and at Winterfell. Both of them had aged faces carved upon them, weeping red tears."
"As for another one, it belonged to House Bracken—their weirwood has long since died, its branches now home to flocks of ravens."
Kal spoke idly, saying what amounted to little, while in his heart he was already thinking of what excuse he could use to leave.
He had no wish to linger here, alone with the famed Rose of Highgarden, in such a secluded place.
Otherwise, he could wager that by tomorrow, all of King's Landing would be abuzz with tales of how the newly ennobled Warden of the West and Lord of Casterly Rock, Kal Stone, had secretly met with the Rose of Highgarden, Margaery Tyrell, in the godswood of the Red Keep.
Though such rumors might seem advantageous for Kal—and indeed, were Margaery not opposed, he was now fully qualified to wed the fairest rose of the South—
Kal did not consider it a good thing.
For what truly made him wary was not the young woman before him, who appeared as though she were simply a starstruck girl meeting her legendary knight.
It was the one standing behind her—her grandmother, Olenna Redwyne—
Known to all as the Queen of Thorns, the seasoned player who in the original tale had poisoned Joffrey Baratheon simply because she disliked him.
Especially now, in such a delicate and peculiar time.
Kal did not know why this Queen of Thorns had come to King's Landing, but he was certain the old fox had her own designs.
After all, the private army maintained at her estate outside the city numbered nearly five hundred men.
Even an average lesser noble could scarcely gather such a force, even counting servants and smallfolk within a single castle.
Kal had no idea what schemes this true old fox was weaving.
But whatever their plot, he could not afford to let down his guard.
Thus, whatever House Tyrell planned to do now, Kal could understand one thing clearly—their goal must surely be to return to the political heart of the Seven Kingdoms.
And the timing was ideal. The Iron Throne was in urgent need of a wealthy, advantageous, and powerful ally to become the Baratheon family's strongest pillar of support—
To fill the void left by the downfall of House Lannister.
Originally, House Stark would have been the best replacement. But the current Lord Stark would never do such a thing.
Eddard Stark was, in essence, a rigid and upright knight—not a truly qualified lord.
If not for his long Stark face and gray eyes, one could easily believe him to be a knight from the Vale.
In him, others saw none of the fierce blood of the direwolf that marked House Stark.
And as Hand of the King, he was ill-suited to involve his family's influence in the political center that was King's Landing.
Kal understood well that in this game of power, the distant House Stark could do little more than this—they could not offer Robert any truly useful support.
Before the collapse of the Lannisters' usurping schemes, Eddard had served as the perfect counterbalance against the Lannisters' dominance.
But now that House Lannister had been completely destroyed and withdrawn from the game, though the realm might appear prosperous on the surface, not only House Stark but even the Iron Throne itself had quietly fallen into an awkward position.
As for the Vale, after Jon Arryn's death, the young heir was still being raised by him, though no one had yet formally called him his godfather.
Therefore, at this point in time, the Vale was not a suitable replacement for the Lannisters either.
As for Kal Stone—he did not yet possess that qualification.
No, to be precise, he had it in name, but not in true strength.
He merely held a ticket that looked impressive.
And as for the Riverlands' House Tully—
Please, let us not joke about that.
Thus, what remained could only be House Tyrell of Highgarden—
And House Martell of Dorne.
In terms of strength, wealth, and status, these two houses were the most ideal replacements for House Lannister, and at the same time, the most suitable partners for Robert Baratheon.
Yet ironically, both houses also held conflicts with Robert.
Though before genuine interest, such conflicts appeared fragile and meaningless.
Kal saw clearly the many hidden undercurrents beneath this façade of prosperity.
That was also why he instinctively felt a degree of resistance toward Margaery.
In such circumstances, if House Tyrell truly chose to side with him, the meaning behind it would be self-evident.
Kal had never once entertained thoughts of staging a coup.
Besides, for him, that was far from the proper approach.
Women were good for sleeping with—but whether one could pull up his trousers afterward and pretend nothing had happened, now that required true ability.
Kal was not foolish enough to ruin a winning hand over trivial matters between his legs.
The intelligent Margaery Tyrell, however, had no idea that the newly titled Lord of Casterly Rock standing before her had already thought through so many layers in the blink of an eye.
She showed no particular concern for Kal's idle chatter.
Instead, she smoothly shifted her offense, following the topic of heart trees he had mentioned earlier, and continued the conversation.
"So that's how it is. I always thought weirwoods could live forever. I didn't expect that even those said to embody the Old Gods could die."
Margaery displayed just the right amount of surprise, then swiftly turned back toward him.
"Also, did you know, Ser Kal, that in Highgarden's godswood there are actually three heart trees? They are collectively called the Three Singers, and legend says they were planted by the Green Hand himself."
"And these three heart trees grow around a small pool, their branches intertwined. After countless centuries, they now look like a single giant heart tree with three trunks."
"So if you wish, I can represent House Tyrell in welcoming your visit."
As she pressed a hand to her chest, the motion drew the eye irresistibly—and from Kal's height, he could clearly see the deep curve of her neckline.
Watching her performance, Kal had to admit—some people truly were born under heaven's favor.
And the saying was right: the best actors are always found upon the stage of power.
So he simply nodded with perfect appropriateness, then suddenly raised his wrist, lifting his sleeve to glance at it.
At the same time, he smiled faintly, his expression touched with just the right degree of urgency. "If I have the chance, I will certainly visit Highgarden to see this marvel with my own eyes."
"But I'm afraid, Lady Margaery, I just remembered there are still some matters I've yet to attend to—so let us part ways here for now."
Kal finished speaking, and without waiting for the still-bewildered Margaery Tyrell to call him back, he gave a knight's courteous bow, then decisively turned and left.
His steps were hurried, as if the Others themselves were chasing right behind him.
Margaery Tyrell stood there dumbfounded, staring in astonishment, not quite processing what had just happened.
Only when she saw the hem of Kal's cloak vanish completely around the garden's corner did the clever and quick-witted Rose of Highgarden finally grasp what had just taken place.
Clearly, Kal Stone had not been joking or teasing her. Once she realized this, Margaery was utterly taken aback—because she had actually been disdained.
And that man had even fled in a panic, as though running from some deadly demon.
Though Kal Stone had maintained perfect courtesy from beginning to end, once she came to her senses, the astute Margaery needed no one to tell her what Kal had been thinking.
But that was secondary, because the main point was that after such an exchange with him, she had gained absolutely nothing of value—nothing but a pile of meaningless talk.
She hadn't even managed to establish any semblance of friendship with him.
At present, her relationship with Kal Stone was no different from that of the nobles and merchants who had intercepted him in the throne hall for a few perfunctory words.
That was not her purpose.
What truly vexed her was that, once she realized what had happened, Margaery suddenly became aware that throughout her entire conversation with Kal Stone, she had been led by the nose from beginning to end.
Except for the moment when she had first called out to him, everything afterward had unfolded at his pace.
Even when she instinctively tried to regain control of the conversation at the end, that damned man had refused to give her the chance—
He had just pulled out an excuse and turned away.
One had to understand that in all her life, Margaery Tyrell had never encountered such a thing.
Especially not before men who had ulterior motives toward her.
Aside from her grandmother who had taught her since childhood, never once had there been anyone—and that person even being a young man—who had managed to act this way before her.
Without exception.
Yet Kal Stone had, so quietly and unconsciously, made her suffer a loss.
It was the first time ever.
The more she thought about it, the angrier Margaery Tyrell grew; a surge of frustration blocked her chest, leaving her feeling stifled.
Then she suddenly stamped her foot hard, pouting and gritting her teeth as she gave a cold snort. "Hmph! Kal Stone, I'll remember you!"
"Since you want to avoid me, we'll just see about that."
Having said so, Margaery lost any desire to stroll through the godswood or pray at the Sept, turned around, and walked out of the little garden along the corridor.
---
I will post some extra Chapters in Patreon, you can check it out. >> patreon.com/TitoVillar
---