Jon Snow was nowhere to be seen today. It was said that after being invited by the Hand of the King to a family feast last night, he had not returned. Since Jon couldn't be found, Kal simply couldn't be bothered to look for him.
After all, there was no way that boy could possibly lack a proper set of equipnt now.
"Sam, you're coming too."
Taking the reins, Kal glanced at the noticeably slimr fat man and thought for a mont—he would have armor made for him as well.
He didn't want to show favoritism.
Besides, it wasn't as though he was short on money.
"?" Sam pointed at himself, blank-faced.
"If you want to prove yourself, bring a horse over."
Kal did not look for any excuse; he simply put pressure on him in silence.
At these words, Sam's fat face went pale at once, yet he did not shrink back, because he knew his life-taking father would arrive at King's Landing in a few days.
By now much recovered from last night's hangover, Tyrion also mounted a mare with a specially made saddle.
Looking at this eldest son of House Tarly, though he did not quite understand why Kal El cared so much about this cowardly fat man, he was still happy to have one more person to tease.
"Aren't you going to thank Lord Kal El?!"
Tyrion grinned, his eyes full of slyness.
At these words, Kal t his gaze in tacit understanding.
"Ah— right, lis—— uhm, thank you, Lord Kal El, wai—?"
Just then, with the groom's help, Sam had mounted a workhorse. Hearing Tyrion's reminder, he subconsciously wanted to thank Kal.
But halfway through, being innately sensitive to words and blessed with a decent mory, he imdiately sensed sothing different.
"Lord Kal, have you already decided on your surna?"
"El, ah— why can't I quite rember what this na ans?"
Muttering as he sat on his own horse, Sam rummaged through his mories, yet could not recall in which book he had seen the surna El, nor what it signified.
Seeing the fat man like this, Tyrion's sly plan succeeded.
"Stop thinking, little fatty. Even I don't rember what El signifies, because this is simply a term newly coined by Lord Kal El himself."
Kal, listening to their talk at the side, did not interject.
They, of course, would not know what El signified.
But what Kal knew was that this surna would, after him, resound through the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, and even the whole world.
By then, there would naturally be those who would know what Kal's surna El signified.
Because they would explain it themselves, just as Targaryen signifies the dragon-king family.
However, Kal paid no mind to their chat; instead, he subconsciously cast a glance at the horse Sam was riding.
As one who had dealt with these fellows for quite so ti, he had no small study of horses.
This was also why Fawkes was so expensive, yet Kal still bought him to be his companion.
The horse the groom brought for Samwell Tarly was actually not the kind of warhorse that Kal and the others rode, but a draft horse—also called a workhorse—a type of horse good at carrying heavy loads.
Although they were far from ideal mounts for combat, they could still be ridden onto the battlefield.
At the mont, for Sam, it was naturally the most suitable choice.
"Interested in serving House El? You're worth more than you think."
Seeing how quick-witted this groom from the Red Keep was, and how capable he seed, Kal thought he ought to make more effort for the House El that he had not yet fully established.
At the very least, for now, he would need such talents to help build his House El.
Hearing without any ntal preparation that Lord Kal El wanted him to work for his house, the groom froze for an instant before quickly reacting.
The words of Lord Kal El before him could not have been clearer—he was being recruited.
At the sa ti, he understood that in the Red Keep he was rely a groom. Yet now, with this young newly risen Lord of Casterly Rock personally seeking him out, once he went to serve at Casterly Rock, his promotion to master of the stables might be within arm's reach.
At the thought of this, of the imminent raise and advancent, the clever groom imdiately knelt to the ground without a mont's hesitation.
"It is my honor to serve you, my lord."
Hearing this, Kal could not help but laugh.
"You're quick and clever, and quite capable as well. Tell your na."
Yet as soon as Kal asked for his na, the groom's face suddenly stiffened, as though he had recalled sothing; his eyes began to dart away, not daring to et Kal's gaze.
"What's wrong?" Kal did not understand his aning—was his na sothing shaful to speak?
There were plenty of people in this world nad Dick, weren't there?
"M-my lord, perhaps you could give a new na," the groom said in a panic, hastily bowing to the ground.
But he still did not say his own na; instead, he asked Kal to give him a new one.
Sam and Bronn both looked at him with strange expressions.
They had never seen anyone so sycophantic.
But the quick-witted Tyrion imdiately understood why this groom was acting that way.
"Don't tell your na is also Kal," the dwarf burst into laughter, as though he had just thought of sothing amusing.
Hearing the dwarf's words, Kal finally caught on.
But he did not feel offended; instead, he thought he and this groom were fated to et. "It seems we share so fate. In that case, from today on, your na shall be Ferrari."
He himself, as Kal, had once raised donkeys in the Vale of Arryn, and now this Kal in King's Landing was raising horses.
It was truly amusing.
After speaking, Kal laughed aloud, tugged on Fawkes's reins, and turned his horse toward the gate of the Red Keep.
The groom forrly nad Kal—now newly nad Ferrari—was brimming with excitent, and only after Kal and his party had departed did he grin widely and climb up from the ground.
The servants of the Red Keep who had witnessed the scene all ca forward to congratulate Ferrari.
For everyone knew that from this day onward, the lad's fortune had changed.
...
That day, Kal was dressed in a black silk high-collared robe trimd with gold and adorned with red silk, a crimson belt with golden inlay fastened at his waist.
Over his left shoulder hung a bright red cloak just as striking.
Mounted on the chestnut-red Fawkes, his black hair stread in the wind, making Lord Kal El appear all the more gallant and spirited.
This was his first public appearance since becoming Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West.
Riding through the King's Gate, in the blink of an eye, Kal and his companions entered the stench-filled streets of the city.
Though he had grown sowhat accustod to this kind of life, Kal still felt a faint discomfort.
"Seven hells, once I get the chance, I'll see to it this privy of a city is cleaned up—and if anyone dares dump his night's piss and shit on the street again, I'll shove his head into his own chamber pot."
Forced to slow his pace, his sharp senses caught that deadly stench, and Kal couldn't help cursing aloud.
"What are you muttering about?"
From behind, Tyrion had heard Kal saying sothing but hadn't caught it clearly.
He rode up, curiosity on his face, and asked.
But Kal didn't continue the topic. While letting Fawkes weave through the crowded streets on his own, he suddenly seed to recall sothing and turned to glance at Tyrion, who had caught up.
"It's nothing. I just happened to rember—Sandor Clegane ca to King's Landing with you all, didn't he? How did he co here?"
The reason Kal insisted on riding after leaving the Red Keep was actually nothing more than that he simply didn't want to step on any "landmines" on the ground.
When Tyrion suddenly heard Kal ntion Sandor Clegane, he froze slightly.
"The Hound?" Tyrion didn't understand why Kal suddenly brought him up. "When he heard in King's Landing that you had killed his brother, he went mad and demanded to co to King's Landing—he said he had to see you."
"To keep him from going berserk, Robb released him."
As he spoke, Tyrion glanced at Kal. "But after leaving Winterfell, he was transferred to the dungeons of the Red Keep."
"These past few busy days, I'd actually forgotten about him."
Hearing this, Kal hadn't expected the matter to have unfolded that way.
---
I will post so extra Chapters in Patreon, you can check it out. >> patreon/TitoVillar
---
Reviews
All reviews (0)