"Hmm?"
"Is it dawn?"
Kal opened his eyes and looked at the unfamiliar ceiling and canopy above him, a trace of drowsiness still lingering in his gaze.
He stared blankly for a moment, spacing out—and just as his mind emptied and he thought of nothing at all, a sudden flurry of wingbeats came from outside the window.
A creature slightly larger than a sheep squeezed its wet body through the window and crashed into his room, rolling several times across the carpet.
Then a horned head pushed forward, exhaling hot breath as its large tongue slapped directly across Kal's face.
With a loud, wet smack, his entire face was covered in saliva.
"What the hell?!"
Snapped out of his daze, Kal cursed with pure instinct. Being forced to "wash" his face with hot dragon spit woke him up completely.
Robert, having just pulled off his prank, looked delighted. He bounced onto the bed, flapping his wings as he threw his head back and roared loudly.
"Roo—"
"Ooh—rooooh—"
Before he could finish his triumphant roar, Kal lashed out with a flying kick.
"Get down. Break my damn bed again and I'll skin you tonight and use you as a blanket."
Wiping off Robert's saliva with his hand, Kal couldn't be bothered with the dragon now lying on the floor and starting to whine again. He reached out and tugged a pull-cord beside the bed.
A crisp jingling sounded. After a short wait, three handmaids entered Kal's room carrying washbasins and toiletries.
They quickly finished tending to him. After casually tossing a towel onto Robert's face, Kal finally looked toward Ser Arys Oakheart of the Kingsguard, who had entered upon learning he was awake and had been standing silently in the corner the whole time.
"What time is it now?"
Kal asked casually as the handmaids dressed him.
Arys replied respectfully, "Your Majesty, it has been about two hours since dawn."
"Mm—this late already?"
Kal glanced at the light outside. He hadn't expected to sleep in today.
He shrugged, not caring further. "Have you eaten yet? And where are Samwell Tarly, Jon Whitewolf, and Tyrion Lannister right now?"
Arys Oakheart understood what Kal meant. "Your Majesty, do you need me to summon them?"
Kal nodded. After putting on his shoes himself, he rose and walked out of the room.
As he walked, he gave his orders. "Have someone go and find them. If they haven't gotten up yet, wake them and tell them I'll be dining in the great hall. Tell them to come join me."
"Oh, right, and call Kossi, Hall, and Shagga as well. And I remember that the 'Hound,' Sandor Clegane, also came to Casterly Rock with us—have him come too."
Having received the order, Ser Arys Oakheart bowed respectfully. "Yes, Your Majesty!"
He then turned off at a branching corridor to pass on the message.
Kal walked alone through the stone tunnels of Casterly Rock, looking around curiously.
At some point, Robert had come padding along on all fours behind him, following quietly.
Kal had already noticed him but did not bother with him, simply letting the clever little dragon trail along.
"Your Majesty!"
"Good morning, Your Majesty!"
All along the way, everyone who noticed him bowed to him in turn, and Kal would now and then lift a hand in response.
Strolling like this, he made his way to the great hall of Casterly Rock.
"I want something light to eat—not too sweet or greasy. You can give me more vegetables, and it would be best if there is a bowl of hot soup."
After giving these instructions to the servants, Kal went to sit at a long table at the front of the hall. He leaned back and looked up at the ceiling, quietly thinking by himself.
Robert, very eager to imitate him, found a bench not far away, crouched up on it, placed his claws and wings on the long wooden table, and tilted his head back to let out low growls.
Kal had been planning to quietly think about how to begin bringing the Westerlands under his sway, but his head soon started to ache from Robert's racket, and he had no choice but to order a meal for him as well.
"Bring him some roast meat, and if there's fish, give him some too."
"This little brat's appetite has been getting bigger and bigger lately."
Receiving his doting father's favor, Robert became even more excited. He tilted his head back with a whoosh, playing at breathing dragonfire, looking utterly delighted.
But that searing flame terrified the servants in the hall, turning their faces pale and making them all dodge away toward the corners.
Just then, a short man holding a heavy book in his arms happened to stride into the hall.
Feeling the scorching heat in the hall, his eyes lit up at once and went straight to Robert, who was putting on a fire-breathing display.
"I remember that in all the books I've read, there has never been a dragon described as anything like this one."
"Kal, it is a miracle."
Tyrion Lannister had dark circles under his eyes, looking as though he had not slept all night.
The moment he walked into the great hall and saw Robert, words of praise and admiration slipped from his mouth.
"This little brat is indeed very clever, but he is a bit too mischievous."
Kal did not even look back. He casually picked up a metal plate from the table and tossed it at Robert's head, which finally made him shut his mouth and stop frightening the servants.
After taking the hit, Robert instead laid his head along the long table, his eyes fixed on the passage in the corner of the hall that led toward the kitchens.
"Its intelligence is very high. To be honest, I somewhat suspect it is a person wearing a dragon's skin."
Tyrion came closer. He wanted to approach Robert, but felt afraid; after hesitating awkwardly for quite a while, he could only sit down beside Kal.
However, from the moment he had entered, his gaze had been locked on Robert and had not left for even a single instant.
Hearing Tyrion's words, Kal could not help falling into thought as well.
The intelligence Robert displayed really was a bit excessive. Though he had not even been alive for a full month yet, the whelp's mind seemed more like that of a child just over ten years old.
Yet he was curious about everything around him like an infant.
He could understand anything quickly; his speed of learning was as fast as his rate of growth.
It was not just Tyrion who felt he was like a person—Kal himself had subconsciously grown used to treating Robert as a child rather than as some dragon.
He was indeed a dragon that had not yet grown up, still powerful and dangerous.
But that innate intelligence was enough for him to control the power that belonged to him.
"And there is also this: I have never heard of a dragon having such a fast rate of growth. Kal, are you truly sure your Robert is a young dragon, and not some kind of magical creature that only happens to look somewhat like a dragon?"
While Kal remained silent, Tyrion continued to voice his doubts.
Everything the little golden dragon Robert had shown so far had nothing at all to do with the knowledge he had about dragons.
On this point, Kal could only shake his head.
"On that, I do not know either. Perhaps I have been too generous with his feed?"
"And these last two days, this little fellow has also been sleeping much less, which has left him brimming with energy. I am considering how I ought to arrange things for him."
Kal truly did not know what exactly was causing Robert's growth to be so fast.
So he could only conclude that he had simply been giving Robert too good a life.
After all, he had given him unlimited amounts of magic-infused meat, and he had stuffed him full of dragon eggshells—the draconic equivalent of a mammal's milk—as food.
As for precious magical water and similar things, Kal had all but used them as bathwater for him.
One could say that, even back when this little fellow had still been an egg, he had already been living in a place overflowing with magical essence.
Completely unlike other dragons of the world of ice and fire that grew up in "barren" soil.
As for his intelligence, that part was indeed strange.
Kal had wondered whether, when the game world updated its version, Robert had received some kind of benefit from the game world as well.
Becoming somewhat closer to a truly intelligent dragon like Artessa, rather than a bipedal wyvern subspecies with a dog-level mind that merely happened to be a bit clever.
And this was also why Kal hoped Robert would learn to speak, and eventually learn draconic magic from Artessa.
As for him sleeping less, Kal felt it was probably because Robert had passed through the rapid growth period after hatching and had entered a mature phase.
As for growing fast—so long as it was not forced growth—Kal was happy to see it.
"Build him a dragon lair? Like the Targaryens had?"
Seeing that Kal wanted to arrange a place for Robert to live, Tyrion offered his own suggestion.
Kal turned his head to look at Robert. He was certain this mischievous little fellow could understand everything they were saying.
And sure enough, as soon as he heard that, Robert twisted his head, thought for a moment, and then stretched out a claw to point at the ground beneath them.
"You want to have a room of your own down below?" Kal asked.
Robert nodded quickly, baring his teeth in delight.
But Kal frowned at the idea.
"I think you will grow very large—so large that an underground cavern will not be able to hold you anymore, like a mountain."
"You have that kind of potential."
"So I think it may be better for you to find a suitable place next door instead."
"And you will have to build your own nest. You can carve out a mountain, melt the stone with your fire. That should not be difficult for you, and it can also help train your abilities."
Originally excited, Robert stopped baring his teeth when he heard Kal reject his request without hesitation, and he pulled his head back again.
Seeing him go quiet, Kal felt he had accepted the arrangement, and he nodded in satisfaction.
Tyrion, watching man and dragon communicate seamlessly, widened his eyes even further.
Everything Kal did seemed like a miracle to him.
But before the dwarf could ask His Majesty King Kal why his dragon had to be more unusual than the dragons of House Targaryen—
Jon, Samwell, Kossi, Shagga, and even Sandor Clegane arrived, led in by three Kingsguard.
Seeing others present, Tyrion tacitly closed his mouth, and the expression on his face became far more serious.
In private, when spending time with Kal, he preferred to treat the two of them as friends.
But that was no excuse to be unruly before His Majesty King Kal.
And since Kal had summoned these people so early in the morning, Tyrion knew he must have something to do.
And during the time Kal had spent returning to King's Landing, Tyrion had also been preparing for these matters.
"Your Majesty, awaiting your command!"
After saluting Kal, the three Kingsguard stepped forward to stand at his side.
Kossi, Jon, and the others greeted Kal with a bow, then stood before him.
Seeing the group gathered around him, Kal merely waved his hand dismissively.
"No need for so many formalities. In private, I prefer things to be more relaxed. Sit down first. If you want something to eat, just tell the cooks and the servants."
"Then we'll talk while we eat."
"I want my bacon fried extra crisp, preferably two fish as well, and a cup of milk," Tyrion said without the slightest restraint.
With him taking the lead, Jon and the others relaxed too, each ordering a few things before finding seats around Kal.
Only one person was an exception—Sandor Clegane did not move at all. He remained where he stood, looking at Kal.
"Why not sit and have some breakfast?" Kal asked with a smile.
Sandor shook his head, unmoved. He glanced at the dragon draped over the long table looking rather lifeless, then focused his gaze back on Kal.
"I would very much like two cups of ale, but I want even more to know—what do you intend to do with me?"
"You have done nothing. Ever since heading north to Winterfell, none of it had anything to do with you."
The food Kal had ordered earlier had already been cooked and brought up by the cooks themselves. Kal let them set it down as he spoke calmly to Sandor.
Sandor Clegane listened to Kal's words in silence, staring straight at him.
Seeing that he was not responding, Kal smiled, clapped his hands lightly, and picked up the knife and fork on the table.
"Alright, this is boring."
"I called you here for two things. First—have you ever thought about inheriting everything that belongs to House Clegane?"
"Second—do you want to become one of my Kingsguard?"
Everyone present fell silent at Kal's words to Sandor.
On one side, they furtively—and somewhat fearfully—glanced at Robert, who was already so bored that he was scratching the wooden table with his claws, sending up flying splinters.
On the other side, they pricked up their ears, listening carefully as Kal, now king, tried to recruit Sandor Clegane.
Sandor Clegane: "…"
Kal was patient. He had already stated his offer, so he simply ate his food quietly.
Vegetables, bacon, bread, and some kind of fried fish Kal could not identify—everything tasted quite good.
Especially the bowl of meat soup whose name he did not know; its flavor was exceptionally rich.
"You want me to swear fealty to you? Become your vassal?"
After a while, it was Sandor who could no longer keep silent.
But before Kal could say anything, Tyrion—who had just received his own food—interjected from the side: "Technically speaking, you are only a knight."
Kal did not speak, tacitly acknowledging Tyrion's answer.
The atmosphere shifted, and Jon Whitewolf and the others grew more serious.
This was the first time Kal had handled such a matter since returning to Casterly Rock.
"I don't want to be a Kingsguard. They only make me feel sick!"
Hearing Sandor's words, Kal actually laughed and exchanged a glance with Tyrion.
"Then become the knight of House Clegane. But I expect your loyalty—and your performance in the war that may be coming."
"You killed Gregor Clegane. Originally, I thought he would die by my hand… or I would die by his—" Sandor spoke in a way no one else understood.
Only Kal kept smiling as he ate his food, while Tyrion's eyes flickered with thought.
"So," Sandor Clegane took a deep breath and looked down at Kal's feet, "I need to kneel to you, and swear fealty?"
This time Kal truly smiled with joy.
He nodded. "Of course, Ser Sandor Clegane."
Sandor let out a dry laugh—whether mocking himself or everything he once despised, no one could tell.
But he still lowered his head and went down on one knee before Kal.
"I am honored to receive your fealty, Ser Sandor Clegane. I will have the kitchens prepare ale for you. You should like it."
Having begun on such a good note, Kal felt that today was a wonderful day.
So, taking advantage of the moment, he turned toward Tyrion Lannister—his acting Hand of the King.
Kal suddenly considered adding yet another seat to the Small Council.
"So then, little Imp, how many people in the Westerlands do you think would swear fealty to me?"
"Given that your father seems to have betrayed the Iron Throne once more."
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