"What does our king intend to do?"
Kal had found Tyrion and couldn't even be bothered with pleasantries. He went straight to the question that had been gnawing at him.
In the original tiline, after the sudden death of Jon Arryn, Duke of the Eyrie and Hand of the King, Robert had launched into this northern journey like a man possessed—more like a commando operation than a royal progress.
Desperate to call in reinforcents, he'd driven his company like herded sheep.
And it was precisely because of this frantic pace that he'd made the overland trip from King's Landing to Winterfell in just one month.
That alone made it clear: in his heart, this matter was of utmost urgency.
And yet now—without warning—Robert had chosen to halt the march. He even ordered the entire party to stop and rest for a full day.
That struck Kal as utterly baffling.
After all, they had only left King's Landing less than a week ago. At most, they'd covered just a quarter of the total distance—and that was during the easiest stretch of the road.
As for this sprawling, three-story white-stone inn before them—its place in the story was supposed to co later, during Robert's return journey southward with Eddard Stark and his daughters.
And it was here that Arya Stark's direwolf, Nyria, bit Joffrey Baratheon.
This inn would go on to play many roles in the story later—but that need not be discussed now.
For Kal, this unscheduled stop—absent from the original narrative—was perplexing. He couldn't make sense of Robert's intentions.
The king, who should've been barreling northward like his cloak was on fire, had suddenly ordered a full day of rest?
This strange detour made Kal all the more suspicious.
So, the mont he settled in, Kal sought out the one person bound to know sothing—Tyrion Lannister, the ever-curious gatherer of secrets—and confronted him with that very question.
In response to Kal's confusion, Tyrion sipped elegantly from his silver goblet, swirling the red wine within.
But his eyes weren't on the wine.
They were fixed, sharp and gleaming, on Kal.
"Our good King," Tyrion said, lips curling slightly, "heard there were aurochs in the area."
The Imp didn't bother with any theatrics. He gave Kal the answer plainly and directly.
"…Huh?" Kal blinked, taken aback by the unexpected reply.
Tyrion's response caught him completely off guard—he'd never imagined the answer could be that simple.
But then, almost imdiately, Kal recovered, his brow furrowing slightly.
This didn't make sense.
Robert—hunting now?
Sure, he was known for indulging in feasting, whoring, gambling, and chasing after ga. He didn't even pretend to care about the affairs of the realm, dumping everything on Duke Jon Arryn, who was, in practice, the realm's acting king.
anwhile, Robert busied himself with spending money by the handful, all in pursuit of his version of a good life.
And he always justified it with the excuse: "I won't waste ti counting coins."
But because of all that, he shouldn't be making this kind of decision now of all tis.
To Kal, Robert Baratheon might've looked crude and reckless on the surface—like so carefree fool with no sense of consequence.
But anyone who actually thought of him as a fool... was the real fool.
If Robert were truly that stupid, he wouldn't have acted so decisively after Jon Arryn's death—racing north to summon his old friend and brother-in-arms to return and stand by his side.
Robert was perfectly clear-headed. He knew that with the situation as it stood, the only way to keep the realm from collapsing was to bring in an outside force—soone powerful, trustworthy, and above the fray—to sit at the table and help steer the negotiations.
Soone who could drag the kingdom back from the brink and restore stability.
That was why, imdiately after Jon Arryn's death, Robert had chosen to send Arryn's own son, Robert Arryn, to the Westerlands—officially for his education under Tywin Lannister, to learn how to be a proper ruler.
But in truth, Robert's goal had been simple: to trade the boy for Tywin's cooperation. A strategic concession to placate the Lannister patriarch after he was denied the title of Hand.
Unfortunately, Lysa Tully broke that silent agreent—spiriting young Robert Arryn back to the Vale in secret, shattering the deal entirely.
Cersei had flown into a fury, cursing Lysa without restraint.
And Robert had no choice but to imdiately set off for the North.
With Jon Arryn gone, and the old balance already crumbling, the dominance of the Lannisters in King's Landing was inevitable.
To counter that power, there was only one option left: his brother, Eddard Stark, Warden of the North.
He was the key—the only redy Robert had left.
So now, with Tyrion claiming that King Robert rely wanted to go hunt so wild aurochs, Kal couldn't help but find it absurd.
Well, to be fair, there wasn't really anything wrong with what Tyrion had said—because this was exactly the kind of thing Robert would do. It fit perfectly with his character.
But it was precisely because of that that the urgency Robert had shown earlier felt... off. Unfamiliar, even. After all, this man had always seed too lazy to care about anything beyond eating, drinking, and whoring.
Still, even if that was true, the problem wasn't what he was doing—but when he was doing it.
That was what made Kal start to lean toward conspiracy theories, wondering if perhaps certain people, for certain reasons, had simply grown tired of waiting.
Or maybe—maybe it had sothing to do with him. Maybe that was what stirred the butterfly's wings into motion.
As the thoughts spiraled, Kal's mind grew more tangled. One by one, he began speculating, trying to rule out who could possibly be the puppet master behind this sudden incident.
But no matter how hard he thought about it, he ca up with nothing.
First off, the two high-level players in King's Landing—the ones who had handed him the map—didn't seem like they had anything to do with this. One of them had absolutely no reason to, and taking such action didn't align with his interests.
After all, their core objectives were fundantally different. One sought to maintain stability. His ideal scenario was for nothing at all to happen.
The other, anwhile, aid to create controlled chaos within a structured system. He would then use the smoke and mirrors to quietly climb his ladder—one that led directly to his true goal.
So, for both of them, now was not the ti to target Robert.
Not to ntion, both had already made their moves, in a sense.
One had successfully created chaos, all while keeping himself perfectly hidden behind the curtain.
The other was working hard behind the scenes to stabilize the current situation—within the boundaries of the existing rules.
What's more, if Eddard Stark really were to co south, that would be good news for both of them.
So from any angle, it was clear: Littlefinger and the Spider, both lurking in King's Landing, couldn't have been the masterminds behind this incident.
As for that long-haired, hot-headed table-flipper... well, even she probably wouldn't go this far.
Though to be fair, this kind of move did seem like sothing she was capable of.
But once his thoughts reached that point, Kal wasn't confident enough to say for sure.
Could it really be... Cersei?
After all, she did seem to have a legitimate motive for sothing like this!
Watching Kal's expression shift through confusion, doubt, and deep thought in response to his words, Tyrion, who was sitting nearby, couldn't help but burst out laughing.
Fortunately, that laugh snapped Kal out of the haze caused by overthinking the problem.
Kal instinctively looked down at Tyrion, unsure what he was laughing at.
But in response to Kal's clear 'threat' written all over his face, the clever and sharp-eyed Tyrion Lannister simply took a leisurely sip of red wine—completely unfazed.
"Bastard, are you wondering why Robert stopped here?" Tyrion smacked his lips and asked casually, as if he had seen straight through Kal's thoughts.
"Of course!" Kal answered directly, not bothering to hide his confusion. "Shouldn't we be heading nonstop toward the North right now?"
"Maybe Lord Stark has already prepared a grand feast to welco the king, but the king just wants to have a little fun here first…"
As he spoke, Kal spread his hands, as if it was all just a bit strange—nothing more.
"Or maybe," Tyrion said, tilting his head slightly, "he simply wanted to relive his forr 'glory'?"
Then, with a tone that was relaxed but laced with uncertainty, he looked at Kal and added, "And maybe... show it off to 'soone' one last ti."
"…"
Kal didn't respond to Tyrion's remark.
He stayed silent, having clearly caught the emphasis Tyrion had placed on the words 'soone' and 'glory', and seen the unmistakable look of mockery on the dwarf's face—an unhidden smirk laced with biting amusent.
Kal hadn't intended to understand what Tyrion was implying… but now, he did.
Still, his face remained a mask of confusion, as if he half-understood, but couldn't fully piece it together.
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