As the hours passed, evening drew near.
The sun set in the west.
Gathering up the disarmed Lannister soldiers, Kal left a force of just over a thousand of his own men to guard the three to four thousand Lannister captives.
For the moment he could only house them outside the city, down by the bay near the Iron Gate on the Blackwater.
That way, fewer men would be needed to keep watch, and there would be no fear of them turning restless inside the walls.
And since these men had already lost all fighting power, Kal had no time or energy left to waste on them.
With only about three hundred troops—clad in freshly stripped armor still warm from its former owners—Kal once more set out toward the Red Keep.
But when he had climbed halfway up Aegon's High Hill, a figure suddenly stepped out from the crowd lining the road: a beggar cloaked in a foul-smelling, tattered mantle.
The beggar blocked the path of Kal's host, then pulled back his hood.
Kal raised a hand, halting Chella beside him, who had reflexively moved to strike the man down.
Kal studied him: a full, filthy beard covering his jaw, hair greasy and matted, unwashed for gods knew how long.
With all that growth masking his features, and grime and stench thick on his face, Kal could not see what the man truly looked like.
But as the beggar barred his way, the once-bent frame slowly straightened, no longer trembling as if death were about to take him.
"My lord—" the beggar blocked Kal's way and began to speak.
"I feel a familiar presence in you—" But before the cloaked figure could finish, Kal suddenly cut him off.
He stepped forward, circling the man who, once he straightened his spine, stood barely a head shorter than himself. Kal studied him closely.
Yes, a man of stature.
Not the frail beggar he had seemed a moment ago, but a burly figure altogether different.
Kal's mouth curved in a smile. He flared his nostrils, drawing in a faint hiss of air, and said, "There's a nobility about you that no beggar should possess. And beneath that stench, the scent of powders—hardly belonging to a beggar either. Am I right? Lord Varys, Master of Whisperers."
Kal was bluffing outright, but it did nothing to dent his confidence.
The truth was, he had not recognized the man at all.
The beggar's only slip was his bearing: the lack of fear when he stopped Kal's host, the sudden shift from a hunched frame to the stance of a strong man.
That, and the masterful disguise before him, led Kal to think of only one man—the Spider, Varys.
It seemed Kal Stone's unmasking struck home, for Varys's pupils quivered ever so slightly.
Looking at the confidence on the young Warden of the East's face, the eunuch found himself wondering if his disguise had indeed betrayed some flaw.
Yet he hid the thought well, pushing it aside.
For the matter at hand was far more pressing.
Feigning no surprise at Kal's recognition, Varys chuckled, reaching up to peel away the false hair and beard.
His body bent once more into that familiar posture Kal had seen back in the Red Keep.
With a sycophantic smile on his face, his sharp eunuch's voice squeezed out of his throat: "Ser Kal, your eye for detail is truly keen. I daresay King Robert's trust in you, his naming you Warden of the East, must indeed be born of your excellence. You are right, noble Ser Kal. I am Varys."
Seeing Varys directly admit he was the Master of Whisperers, Kal halted his steps behind him.
"Then, Lord Varys, as the Master of Whisperers, may I ask why you are here, and dressed in such a manner?"
"And why did you stop me?"
Kal's voice was calm and drawn out, difficult to read.
And because Kal Stone was standing behind him, Varys could not see the expression on the newly appointed Warden of the East's face.
But Varys did not feign ignorance; he heard the hidden meaning in Kal's words.
He still kept his body slightly hunched, his voice carrying that distinct note of obsequiousness.
"Ser Kal, you flatter me. I am merely a eunuch, a broken man. It was only because I grew up in such a state that I was forced to relearn certain skills I once thought long forgotten."
He first explained his disguise. In his low chuckle lingered a trace of heaviness.
His tone faltered briefly before he drew a deep breath. Then, with his back to Kal, he continued, "Kevan Lannister launched his assault on King's Landing in the dead of night, just before dawn."
"At that time, aside from the brothel guests, the whole city was fast asleep. And I was only a eunuch," Varys added with a touch of mockery.
"Lannister's army rowed down the Blackwater from upstream and struck suddenly. By the time I awoke and received the news, the Red Keep had already fallen."
"Fortunately, in serving His Majesty all these years in King's Landing, I had come to know a few of the keep's secret tunnels."
"So before Kevan Lannister's soldiers found me, I had already fled through the passages."
"As you see, Ser Kal, I disguised myself this way and hid in Flea Bottom, barely eluding their searches."
Having answered Kal's questions, Varys fell silent once more.
But when no response came from behind him after some time, he cautiously turned his head.
Noticing Varys's uncertain gaze, Kal's expression was stern.
"You mean to say you only realized King's Landing had fallen once the Red Keep was breached?"
"Forgive me, Lord Varys, but as Master of Whisperers, would you not call that a failure of duty? Though perhaps only the King may rightly question you."
"But I also expect you to tell me the reason. After all, I too must report truthfully to His Majesty."
Kal's expression was solemn, his eyes revealing neither joy nor anger.
Yet his tone carried an inexplicable pressure—especially now, when he had only just subdued this city that had been seized by the enemy.
Varys, who had been glancing at him sidelong, quickly lowered his head at those words, his eyes dropping to Kal's boots.
"Ser Kal, your doubts are not unfounded." Faced with Kal's oppressive gaze, the spymaster's voice grew flustered. "And you are right—since I am the Master of Whisperers, I must prove my worth."
"Oh~? Then it seems, Lord Varys, that you must have learned something!"
Kal caught the hidden meaning in the fat man's words.
"Though Flea Bottom's conditions are far from pleasant, I must admit it is indeed a good hiding place."
Seeing the warrior's tone relax slightly, Varys looked as if he had let out a breath of relief.
"So, after some time investigating, I discovered that Lannister had inside men within King's Landing."
"It was precisely with their help that Kevan Lannister so easily seized the city and took its people hostage."
"To capture King's Landing without raising a stir… it isn't hard to guess who that person was." A cold smile flickered across Kal's otherwise impassive face. "It seems the one derelict in duty was not you, Lord Varys."
"The Gold Cloaks betrayed the King, didn't they?"
Kal's gaze was icy, his bearing firm and resolute.
At these words, Varys's pupils flickered slightly beneath his lowered eyes. But he recovered quickly, lifting his head and seizing on Kal's words.
"Not all the Gold Cloaks betrayed the Iron Throne, but Commander Janos Slynt of the City Watch cannot escape responsibility!"
"Yes, Ser Kal, you are correct." Varys's voice grew heated. "As the son of a butcher, Janos Slynt betrayed the King!"
"He was once Captain of the Gates. After the death of his predecessor, Ser Manly Stokeworth, he was promoted to Commander of the City Watch."
"I know of this," Kal replied evenly, his voice once more calm and unruffled. Yet when he looked at Varys, there was a faint, ambiguous smile in his eyes.
Varys keenly caught it.
Then he poured out all that the commander of the City Watch had done during his tenure.
"But what you may not know, Ser Kal, is that the Gold Cloaks are no longer what they once were."
"During Janos Slynt's command, he became infamous for taking bribes and selling offices. Nearly half the officers of the Watch had to pay him from their own wages. Under his leadership, the Gold Cloaks nearly tripled in number."
Kal seemed surprised, his brow furrowing. "Lord Jon Arryn was not a man easily deceived."
Hearing this, Varys gave a bitter smile.
"Of course Lord Jon Arryn discovered it. He even found two men willing to testify against Slynt. But not long after, both were found murdered."
"After that, Lord Arryn told His Majesty the King."
"All right, I can already imagine what happened then." Hearing this, and recalling how the commander still sat securely in his post, Kal needed no further thought to know how Robert would have handled it.
Varys's smile was awkward. "If I recall correctly, the King told the Hand, 'Better the open thief than the hidden one—at least the next may be worse.' And so, Slynt kept his position."
"Though that does sound like the King, doesn't it strike you as odd?" There was a note of doubt in Kal's voice.
Hearing this and the way the matter had been handled, Kal, though aware of the situation, now truly found it strange.
For no matter what, Robert Baratheon was not so foolish.
So Kal's gaze toward Varys grew more intent.
"These words came from Lord Petyr Baelish, the King's Master of Coin—he heard them directly from His Majesty."
Facing Kal's suspicion, Varys gave a fitting answer.
At that, Kal shrugged, understanding what the matter really was.
Since his purpose had been achieved, he no longer cared to dwell on such old trifles. Turning back to Varys, the smile on his face grew sincere.
"Well then, Lord Varys, I'm glad you told me this."
"I think you too were a victim. I will report truthfully to both the King and Lord Eddard Stark, the Hand, about what happened to you, and clear your name."
"You should know—just now, I thought your head was among those stuck on the iron pikes. To be honest, I even mourned you for a moment."
As Kal spoke, he raised his hand and pointed to the Red Keep in the distance, where severed heads could still faintly be seen, with flocks of birds taking off and landing around them.
Looking at Varys blocking his way, though Kal's tone was not entirely heartfelt, it hardly mattered—Varys paid it no mind.
He looked at Kal Stone with a moved expression—the very bastard whom King Robert Baratheon had personally knighted, later granting him the title of Warden of the East on the battlefield.
"It is my honor, Ser Kal," Varys said, bowing to him with genuine respect.
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