Heartsbane was a greatsword meant to be wielded with two hands, yet in Kal's grasp it looked like a slightly longer, larger one-handed sword.
Holding his spoils, Kal casually twirled the two-handed greatsword in his hands, drawing several sword flourishes with ease. The keen edge sliced through the air, producing a clear, pleasing whistling sound.
Weapons of Valyrian steel were light yet hard, sharper than any other steel, and did not decay even after hundreds of years.
Aside from the dragonbone-hilted dagger that Robert had given him as a gift when he knighted him, this was the second Valyrian steel weapon Kal had obtained.
He liked it very much.
"Lord Randyll Tarly, it seems you made the right choice."
Kal spoke with a smile.
Watching this man toy with Heartsbane, which had once belonged to his own house, Randyll felt a sharp pain twist in his chest.
Yet since Kal had defeated him on the open battlefield through command of armies rather than through personal force, Randyll Tarly had no grounds to deny his defeat.
Thus he could only turn his head away, forcing himself not to look at Kal playing with Heartsbane, and instead gaze toward his soldiers, who had ceased fighting and were staring at him with blank expressions.
"I did not lead them out to die," he said. "And you are formidable, Your Grace. You are far more capable than anyone imagined."
"Most people's understanding of you stops at a shallow surface. If, after my defeat, anyone still looks at you that way, they will find no success before you."
At these words, Kal showed no particular reaction.
What kind of man he was—the Seven Kingdoms would see clearly in time.
So he sheathed Heartsbane, the corners of his mouth curved in a smile as he looked at Randyll Tarly, who stood before him openly acknowledging his defeat.
"You address me as Your Grace. It seems you are not averse to pledging your loyalty to me."
Kal's intent was unmistakable: what he sought was not merely Heartsbane.
Randyll fell silent. His gaze involuntarily swept over the surroundings, and as the sun rose, the patches of mud pits scattered across the grassland were now clearly visible.
It was precisely such a simple thing that had made him taste defeat once.
No—rather, it should be said that Kal had long anticipated his intentions.
From the very beginning, everything he had done had been within Kal's calculations. All his actions amounted to nothing more than following Kal's plan and crawling straight into the pocket prepared for him.
As a general who had long since made his name, Randyll Tarly knew very clearly where he had failed.
Therefore, faced with Kal's undisguised attempt at recruitment, he merely said calmly, "I do not deny it. But before my liege has also tasted defeat, I will not kneel to you."
"Then I look forward to that day."
Kal raised his head and looked up at the sky, feeling that today would be a fine day.
White ravens flew throughout the Seven Kingdoms, bringing news of summer's end.
How many days of weather like this there would still be in the future was unknown.
"Besides you, I want your army. I know you will not refuse me."
Before leaving, Kal left Randyll Tarly with only that single sentence.
The Lord of Horn Hill also tacitly accepted his demand.
It was yet another victory—one that even felt somewhat inexplicable.
This strategic contest between Kal and Randyll Tarly was one in which only the two of them understood where each had gained the advantage, and where each had lost.
Randyll Tarly, who ought to have been seasoned and steady, lost to his own impatience.
Kal Baratheon, who ought to have been young and impetuous, instead won through his steadiness and patience.
It was as though the gods had played a joke on the two of them.
The maesters accompanying the army recorded everything that had occurred on the battlefield. This information would be sent to the Citadel for the maesters there to record and study.
But that was all additional work. What they needed to do now was to tally the losses Kal had suffered in winning this war, as well as the gains he could reap.
At the same time, they also had to provide the work of healers.
If nothing unexpected occurred, they would still have to linger in this place for several more days.
Upon returning to his own command tent, Kal removed the armor of Randyll Tarly's army that he had been wearing and changed back into his usual clothes.
He entrusted Heartsbane to Arys Oakheart to carry, having him bear it and follow at his side.
As for Randyll Tarly, after giving orders to his own troops and instructing them to submit obediently to the arrangements, he himself consciously sought out a wooden prison that had only just been built not long ago, climbed inside, and immediately lay down to sleep, unwilling to deal with anyone.
He needed to give himself a bit of space to lick his wounds alone.
As for Kal, he gathered the group of people currently under his command and convened a post-battle military council.
As soon as the meeting began, Kal's gaze swept toward a woman seated not far below his right hand, her face still not showing many wrinkles.
"Lady Arwyn Oakheart—up to now, does House Hightower still have no reaction?"
After being stripped by Kal of the status of lord of Old Oak, Arwyn Oakheart chose to join Kal's army.
Considering that he did indeed lack a "guide" familiar with the Reach, Kal also tacitly allowed her intent, and handed the work concerning intelligence at present over to her.
There was nothing wrong with her work, but that inexplicable fanatical faith she held toward him made Kal somewhat troubled.
Recently, the rumors in the army about that "Eighth God" were first spread from her side.
Seeing that Kal asked about this matter first the moment he spoke, Lady Arwyn Oakheart's face was solemn, her expression grave and respectful.
"Your Grace, House Hightower seems to have no intention at all," she said. "Lord Leyton Hightower has also been staying in the Hightower. It seems they do not wish to become involved in this rebellion led by House Tyrell."
Having received such an answer, Kal's fingers could not help but lightly tap the tabletop.
After a long while, he shook his head.
"Then if that is the case, do not mind them. Whatever their intentions are, they will naturally express them later."
In truth, Kal was somewhat unable to get a firm read on House Hightower—or rather, on what the Citadel thought of him.
Although Kal had always been on guard against them, since the Hightowers had done nothing, at a time like this it was not easy for him to do anything extra.
Of course, if they could keep silent all along, then Kal would naturally be pleased to see it.
However, Kal did not dwell further on this matter, yet Lady Arwyn Oakheart's tightly furrowed brows did not relax.
She continued, "Your Grace, during the period in which I was gathering information, I also obtained another piece of news."
"It is said that the fleet of the Arbor has already received House Tyrell's order to set sail, and the target seems to be Lannisport and Casterly Rock—."
This was major news.
The moment Lady Arwyn Oakheart said this, everyone present looked over.
Jon and the others could not help but furrow their brows as well.
However, upon hearing this, Kal instead gave a slight start.
"What does this mean—are they trying to play a house-swapping tactic with me?"
"Or do they think they can use this to force me back, or believe they can swallow me from both sides at once?"
Kal could not hold it in, his expression breaking, and he even let out a laugh of anger.
Yet although he was laughing, the people present wore expressions of utter confusion.
No one else spoke, but seeing Kal treat the Arbor with such obvious disregard, Lady Arwyn Oakheart hurriedly offered a quiet reminder.
"Your Grace—The Redwyne family's fleet from the Arbor is extremely powerful. It can be said to be among the strongest military forces in the Seven Kingdoms. I think perhaps you should be more cautious."
Kal, however, merely shook his head again and continued smiling.
"No need to worry. Although Jon bringing troops to reinforce us seems to have left Lannisport short of forces, that is not a major issue."
"I made preparations for this place long ago."
"And besides, Casterly Rock is not a place that can be taken simply by having a strong army."
Kal spoke lightly, but just after saying this, he paused slightly.
Then he turned his head and said, "Still, what you say is not without reason. In that case, let us do this. I remember that before I came, Tyrion mentioned to me that some of the nobles of the Westerlands seemed to have ulterior motives."
At that moment, a good idea suddenly occurred to Kal. As he spoke, he looked toward the maesters accompanying the army seated at the council table.
"Help me draft a letter. Announce to all nobles throughout the Westerlands that they must immediately dispatch troops to reinforce Lannisport and Casterly Rock."
"Then warn them in the letter that if anyone defies my summons, I will directly regard his house as being in rebellion."
"Damn it, fighting a few battles made me forget about these people—hm, yes. Write it exactly as I said. No need for any fancy wording. Be direct."
Amid a room full of bewildered expressions, Kal dealt with the matter just like that.
Everyone present, except Jon, was left staring blankly.
The Stark bastard's eyes showed a thoughtful look.
The unfortunate maester, though confused, could only lower his head and get to work.
After he hastily produced a draft, Kal looked it over and only nodded in satisfaction before letting him go.
"Mm, yes, write it like this. After that, just fill in the names."
"So, where were we? Let's continue."
Seeing her king take such an attitude, Lady Arwyn Oakheart parted her lips, but in the end could only smile bitterly and shake her head.
Since the king himself said he had arrangements, and was now even mobilizing all the nobles of the Westerlands to send reinforcements, there was nothing more she could say.
Yet precisely because of this, Kal's current expedition into the southern Reach looked strange no matter how one viewed it.
After all, a king—who had previously even been Warden of the West—was now waging war as a bare commander, with no real backing, even his current manpower having been built up bit by bit through fighting.
Within the entire army, there was not a single reinforcement force from the nobles of the Westerlands.
Damn it—since the beginning of Westeros's history, no one had ever heard of a lord fighting a war like this.
Could this be what it meant to be a god?
Lady Arwyn Oakheart was lost in her own thoughts, yet her mouth did not stop speaking.
"As for the rest, aside from the vanguard force of Lord Randyll Tarly that Your Grace has already defeated, all the Reach armies assembled in response to Highgarden's summons are currently gathered near Highgarden."
"However, at present it is unclear whether they will cross the Mander to come seek trouble with us, or remain at Highgarden to await Your Grace's arrival for a punitive campaign."
Compared to the matter of the Redwyne fleet, what Kal cared about more was the situation at hand.
Hearing Lady Arwyn Oakheart's report, he rubbed his chin.
"Regardless of what they intend, for now we should adjust the army as quickly as possible and absorb the men brought over by Lord Randyll Tarly."
"Disperse and incorporate a small portion. As for the rest, if there are any stubborn elements who do not know their place, send them directly to the rear at Old Oak for reformation."
"Then handle the remaining matters as you see fit."
"That being the case, set the time. I want the army to set out in no more than a week. There will be a good show to watch next."
Hearing Kal say this, those present exchanged glances.
Why was it that ever since defeating Randyll Tarly, His Grace Kal seemed to have developed a sense of being carried away?
Kal had even become almost frivolous in his view of war.
"Your Grace, should you not be more cautious?" Lady Arwyn Oakheart said. "According to the news, the troops Highgarden has already gathered have exceeded twenty thousand. If we wait another week to ten days, their numbers may reach over thirty thousand—"
It was still Lady Arwyn Oakheart speaking; she hurriedly voiced her admonition.
However, in response to her concern, Kal merely narrowed his eyes and gave a mysterious smile.
"No need to worry. This war will most likely not be fought. Now that the forces from the Arbor have gone to Casterly Rock, there will be a good show to watch."
...
Time passed in a flash. The encounter battle on the Ocean Road, as the news spread, stirred up a tremendous uproar throughout the Seven Kingdoms.
No one had expected that Randyll Tarly, who had long since proven himself, would suffer such a brutal defeat at the hands of Kal Baratheon.
He had only delivered the challenge letter during the day, and then before dawn the next day, he had already been handed a complete loss.
Not only had he become a prisoner, but his house sword, Heartsbane, had also become someone else's spoil of war.
Even if Randyll Tarly's force was only a vanguard, by any measure it should not have suffered such a disastrous defeat.
Five or six thousand elite light cavalry—fighting on open plains against an enemy force that was mostly infantry, with cavalry only half of his own.
It was not as though he held some decisive advantage, but no matter how one thought about it, it should not have been such a giveaway.
In a single battle, everything had been handed over cleanly.
Dragged before a council to be accused of a crime would already have been warranted.
Yet the details of the battle had not spread outward. What people knew was only that Randyll Tarly had lost to Kal Baratheon; of the remaining details they knew absolutely nothing.
However, no matter how absurd the ending of the story was, as the war in the Reach rose up, people's eyes still could not help but turn toward it.
Toward this Kal Baratheon, who could repeatedly create miracles, people's hearts were filled with curiosity.
At this moment, Renly Baratheon—who had already departed Highgarden but had not yet reached his own Storm's End—and Stannis Baratheon, who had just released Eddard Stark on Dragonstone, were both paying even more solemn attention to this battle.
Setting aside for the moment how this inexplicable war stirred up by Kal Baratheon would ultimately turn out, or whether this man was truly overly confident and reckless, daring to challenge the entire southern Reach and its many nobles on his own—
At the very least, for the two of them, whether Kal won or lost at this moment would affect the course of history to come.
If Kal were to fail, then it would mean that Renly Baratheon had won.
At that point, the Baratheon family's struggle would be left with only Renly Baratheon and Stannis Baratheon, the two brothers who had yet to make their moves.
But if Kal were to win—
Then it would be hard to say whether Renly Baratheon and Stannis Baratheon would still have any chance at all.
Instead, they would have to seriously consider whether the two brothers should simply bow their heads in submission, or continue to grit their teeth and contend for the Iron Throne.
In any case, amid this somewhat absurd and farcical situation, Highgarden had come to be the vortex of the storm in the Seven Kingdoms.
Even Tywin Lannister's defection from the black cloaks and his attack on House Umber was not enough to draw people's attention away from this war that would determine the future direction of the Seven Kingdoms.
Meanwhile, in the not-so-distant Westerlands at Casterly Rock, a pitiful dwarf was clutching his hair tightly with both hands, feeling on the verge of collapse.
"Why didn't I think of smashing my head to death against the Iron Throne in the Red Keep back then?"
"Look at this damned thing—where did Kal Baratheon get this kind of confidence in me?"
But the dwarf's complaints did not earn him any comfort. Instead, Dogtooth Kossi, the long-absent chief steward of Casterly Rock, came up with a headache-ridden expression, holding a visiting card.
"Apologies, Lord Tyrion Lannister. Let us set aside the matter of the war we are about to face for now—the Septon of Casterly Rock wishes to speak with you."
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