"It sounds like this mercenary mage is a good man," Tyrion said from the side. Only then did Ewing notice the dwarf standing before him.
He quickly bowed. "Good afternoon, Lord Tyrion!"
He knew who Tyrion was, and Tyrion knew him as well.
That was also the reason Tyrion had come with Kal to see the boy.
Tyrion smiled. "You look much better now. Keep working hard."
Hearing that Ewing's family seemed to be doing better, Kal also looked somewhat pleased.
He had actually examined Ewing's mother's illness before—it was caused by overwork. With proper nutrition and rest, she could recover gradually.
That was why he had given Ewing that sum of money before leaving.
So he wasn't surprised that a mercenary mage could cure her—only surprised that the mage had fallen in love with the woman.
"And your sister? Do you still go back home now?"
Compared to Tyrion, Kal did not immediately draw conclusions about Ewing's mother's situation. Instead, he asked about his sister and whether he still went home.
This matter was both important and not, but from such details one could see whether that mercenary mage was truly a good man, and not someone with ulterior motives.
"My sister is fine. She's at home and doesn't have to work."
"But after Mother got better, I haven't gone back much, because I want to make myself useful—to become stronger."
Ewing still wasn't very good with words, but Kal generally understood what he meant.
"It seems that mercenary mage is a good man too," Kal said, glancing up at Tobho Mott.
As a shrewd man, Tobho Mott naturally understood what Kal meant from his look.
He nodded and said, "He's indeed a good one. Since he settled there, many people have received his help. Folks are truly grateful to Ewing's mother for bringing such a fine healer into their neighborhood."
"Then I can rest easy," Kal said, reaching out to ruffle Ewing's hair. He looked down at him. "Keep working hard, Ewing. Once you've mastered your craft, I'll be waiting for you in Casterly Rock to come lend me a hand."
Not yet graduated, the still naïve Ewing had just received an offer from one of the most powerful noble enterprises in all of Westeros.
The sight even made Tobho Mott feel a faint sting of envy.
Seeing that Ewing was doing well and living a better life, Kal finally felt at ease.
"I will! Mother also said she wants to thank you."
The soot-streaked boy grinned, suddenly remembering the errand his mother had told him to mention.
Of course, Kal would never refuse the kindness of a child and his mother. Smiling, he said, "Then I shall invite you, your mother, your stepfather, and your sister to come have dinner with me at my residence."
Hearing that, Tobho grew even more envious and hurriedly sent the boy back to pump the bellows.
"Work hard, you little brat! Put some strength into it! If you can't even pump the bellows properly, how will you ever learn to forge?"
"Yes, Master!"
The still-simple boy answered at once.
After the visit, Tobho Mott returned and prepared to escort Kal and the others out.
But at that moment, Kal remained standing where he was, his gaze falling upon a tall boy whose arms and chest were solid with muscle.
He looked to be about the same age as Robb.
"What is it, Lord Kal?"
Tobho was somewhat puzzled.
But Kal raised his hand and pointed. "Who is he?"
Of course, Kal knew exactly who he was—after all, part of the reason he had come today was for him.
Noticing the direction of Kal's gesture, Tobho Mott instinctively turned to look. His expression tightened slightly, growing calm and cautious, as though something had just occurred to him.
"His name is Gendry. He's one of the apprentices here. For his age, he's quite strong, and he's diligent in his work," Tobho said with a casual smile, then quickly added, "Let's head back, shall we? It's as hot as a dragon's maw in here, and your guards should be finished with their measurements by now."
But Kal clearly had no intention of leaving.
Tyrion, too, now noticed the strange tension between Kal and Tobho Mott.
"I think he's suited to be a warrior. Bring him over."
Hearing that, Tobho had no choice but to comply and called Gendry over.
However, when Gendry approached with him to stand before Kal, Kal noticed that the boy was holding a helmet.
A helmet shaped like a bull's head, with two curved horns.
Before Gendry could speak, Tobho was the first to open his mouth.
"Boy, show Lord Kal El the helmet you forged. This lad's craftsmanship isn't half bad."
As he spoke, he gestured toward the object in Gendry's hands.
Still somewhat confused, Gendry came before Kal, his dark blue eyes fixed on the towering man before him, who looked almost like a giant. With one hand, he pushed back the hair soaked in sweat.
Unlike Ewing's cropped hair, his was thick and coarse, a messy, ink-black mane—somewhat like Kal's own.
Tyrion keenly noticed this and rubbed his chin, his eyes glinting with interest.
When Gendry finally took in the odd sight of the tall man and the short one standing side by side, he seemed to grow a bit shy.
Then he handed over the bull-horned helmet.
The helmet was forged from rough steel, undecorated, yet its very shape already revealed the work of a practiced hand.
Kal took it, turning it over in his hands.
"I can tell—you're already a qualified blacksmith. But I wonder, do you have any interest in becoming a qualified warrior as well?"
...
Time was like the sand in a wine bottle—once overturned by a mischievous child who then ran off laughing, all one could do was watch it flow away bit by bit.
With the opening of the Martial Games, King's Landing had grown increasingly crowded, and the atmosphere ever more feverish.
The population influx had brought an economic boom, causing every trade within the city to flourish, while preparations for the various competitions were proceeding with blazing intensity.
After being tried at the previous council session, Tywin Lannister had taken more than a week before formally setting out north to serve his sentence.
Only, he was no longer the Lord of Casterly Rock and naturally enjoyed none of the privileges once due to him.
Thus, accompanying him was a large group of criminals recently convicted in King's Landing—rapists, murderers, rioters, brawlers, robbers, and thieves alike.
Master of Coin Kal El showed not the slightest mercy toward such people, enforcing day-and-night, round-the-clock patrol shifts that left no gap for crime to exist.
Hand of the King Eddard Stark had, during this time, been forced to handle several such cases every single day.
And to escort Tywin, a certain black-cloaked ranger from the Wall, along with two of his sworn brothers of the Night's Watch, had been sent south.
Yet this time, the ranger—named Yoren—and his two sworn brothers had to manage no fewer than one hundred and thirty-seven "new recruits."
To ensure that no mishaps occurred along the way, Kal also kindly dispatched a twenty-man squad of Gold Cloaks to escort them.
That would certainly guarantee that Tywin Lannister and his brother Kevan Lannister reached Castle Black safely and were personally handed over to the current Lord Commander Jeor Mormont.
Compared to the grand spectacle of Tywin Lannister's earlier arrival in King's Landing, his departure this time was silent and unheralded.
Not even Tyrion went to see him off.
He merely stood early atop the gatehouse of the Old Gate, watching from afar as the gray-and-black procession departed.
Inside the cage, that flicker of gold vanished into the morning mist, and the curtain fell completely.
...
The new-style tournament proposed by the new Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West, Shield of Lannisport, and Master of Coin before the throne, Lord Kal El, was officially held on a bright, clear day.
Male nobles, knights, and even the King himself had all ridden their beloved mounts early to the arena built upon the original site of the old tourney grounds outside the King's Gate.
As for the noble ladies and young maidens, they all traveled there by carriage or palanquin.
Compared with the former tourney field, the new arena—after nearly two months of construction—had expanded to nearly ten times the original size.
As for the manpower used in its construction, aside from the craftsmen already present in King's Landing and the many artisans who had recently flooded into the city, the core labor force remained those soldiers who had originally served under House Lannister.
After all, no matter how capable Kal was at killing, how many could he really kill?
Even rabbits run when chased, don't they?
Thus, after the Lannister forces had been scattered, those deserters who remained were basically hunted down and captured one by one by Kal's men.
Aside from the few lucky enough to escape amid the chaos, Kal had in fact taken a little more than four thousand prisoners at that time.
Later, with another two thousand who had surrendered at Harrenhal in the Riverlands and been brought back by the King and the Hand, a rather sizable army of captives came into being.
But King's Landing could hardly afford to simply keep and feed them for nothing.
So when Hand of the King Eddard Stark raised this issue at the Small Council meeting, Kal stated that for prisoners or surrendering soldiers wishing to regain their freedom, they would not only have to pay a certain ransom but also atone through labor.
Kal's proposal was unanimously approved, and together with all the craftsmen, a construction force of nearly ten thousand people still took almost two months to complete what Kal considered a barely usable arena.
As for the arena's name, naturally it was named after Lord Kal El himself.
"I want to call it the Stadium."
Riding upon Fawkes's back, Kal—who had no events to compete in today but was required to attend the opening ceremony—was not wearing armor.
Today, Kal was dressed in splendid attire, his colors still the same trio of black, red, and gold.
A black satin cloak with a red base draped over his shoulders, exuding an imposing and dignified air.
A brooch of black enamel set with a ruby, its base specially engraved in gold, fastened the cloak upon his shoulder.
He suddenly spoke to Tyrion, who was walking slightly behind him.
As the pioneer, proposer, and executor of this new-style tournament Kal El's presence today was anything but modest.
Behind him, the warriors of the former mountain clans—Chella, Shagga, Timett, and the others—who had half-joined the Gold Cloaks, did not accompany him to today's event.
But the members who had once belonged to the Blackstone Mercenary Company stood in two rows behind Kal.
Each rode a tall warhorse, clad in armor glazed with the three colors of black, red, and gold. Their shoulder cloaks, made of red wool with black trim, were secured by golden brass clasps.
At the very front, Hall, Kossi, and two others—Biden and Hoover—each held high a long black banner.
The silk banners fluttered in the wind as if alive, embroidered with a crimson, gold-trimmed design of a gemstone river.
Now everyone in King's Landing knew that the black field with a red, gold-edged gemstone river was the sigil of House El, belonging to Lord Kal El.
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