A perfectly good "date" thus ended on an unhappy note.
Jon and the others could not quite make out what Kal was thinking, but none of them spoke, each maintaining the silence proper to their station.
After so many such occasions, they had already grown accustomed to placing their trust in their king.
All the more so when he was a man suspected of being an incarnation of the Seven.
And as time passed, Kal too seemed to lose his interest in sightseeing. The party then returned to their own encampment.
"Your Majesty, regarding tomorrow's battle, should we make some preparations?"
After the attendants finished clearing away Kal's dining plates, Jon—who had arrived not long ago and had been waiting to one side—stepped forward and asked in a low voice.
During the time Kal had returned to the camp and taken his meal, Lady Arwyn Oakheart and the others had already prepared a pre-battle council. They had reminded Jon to inform the king, which was why he was here.
Hearing Jon's reminder, Kal raised his head and glanced at him. He set down the napkin with which he had wiped his mouth and rubbed his chin.
After thinking it over, he waved his hand and said, "Very well. As it happens, I was planning to give you a task as well."
"I await your command."
At those words, Jon immediately straightened up, his expression solemn.
"That will do," Kal said with a smile as he rose to his feet, strolling to the entrance of the tent and lifting the flap to glance outside.
People moved constantly through the military camp. Even knowing that they were about to face an enemy two or three times their own number, the soldiers showed no great sign of panic.
Taking all of this in, Kal nodded with satisfaction.
Only then did he continue, "This task is very important. I want to see how you perform. You would do well to be mentally prepared."
After saying this, Kal finally let the tent flap fall and turned to look at Jon, his tone becoming much more solemn.
Seeing that the matter did not seem simple, Jon instinctively grew tense.
"Your Majesty, what do you wish me to do?"
Jon remembered that the last time Kal had entrusted him with a task, it had been to deliver a gift to House Martell.
That gift had been the Mountain's head.
After that, many things had happened.
It was also after that incident, upon returning to King's Landing, that he had learned of his true identity.
Although not much time had passed, why did it feel as though a very long time had gone by?
Thinking of this, Jon could not help but sigh inwardly—this was a secret shared between himself and Eddard Stark.
Kal, however, had no idea that Jon had thought of so many things in such a short span of time.
Facing the tense Jon, he merely shrugged with a relaxed expression.
"Do not be nervous. The task is very simple."
"I only need you to go eat something first. Then you are to gather Lady Arwyn Oakheart and the others. As for exactly which people, I do not care—this is something you must decide for yourself."
"Because the upcoming meeting will be presided over by you. Throughout the entire process, I will only listen. I will not answer any of your questions, nor will I give you any advice."
"That is the task I am giving you. Do you understand?"
"If you understand, then go eat something first. I will wait for you here."
Hearing this without any mental preparation, the seriousness that had been on Jon's face caused his eyes to widen little by little.
His first reaction was disbelief, followed immediately by a sharp tightening in his chest, as if he were about to be unable to breathe.
Because if he had not misheard, Kal's meaning was that he intended to hand the coming war over to him.
He had never imagined that at such a critical moment, Kal would suddenly step aside and throw all the burden onto his shoulders. This instantly threw him into panic.
"What? I'm to fight this war?"
"Y-Your Majesty, th-this…"
The flustered youth looked utterly panicked, nearly unable to get the words out.
A massive war involving tens of thousands of men, one that concerned the political balance of the dynasty and the situation of the Seven Kingdoms, was being so casually handed to him by the king standing before him.
It was not as though he did not know how important this war was.
Yet at such a moment, the king was placing a war that could decide the future of the kingdom into his hands.
What virtue or ability did he, Jon White Wolf, possibly possess to be capable of such a thing?
If this was not sheer madness, then what was it?
At that moment, Jon almost wished that the task Kal had given him was to go slay a dragon—at least that way, he would die more cleanly, and with greater clarity.
But faced with Jon—his face flushed red, so anxious he was nearly in tears—Kal merely wore a cold smile and patted him on the shoulder.
"You must trust yourself, Jon. If you truly fear that you cannot manage it, I suggest you bring Lord Randyll Tarly along as well."
"From this moment on, you must learn how to become a qualified leader. This is a talent you were born with."
"Lord Eddard Stark could do it, and so can you. If you still feel that you are not up to it, then first learn what it means to recognize and make use of capable people, and to listen well."
"I look forward to seeing you handle this."
"So from this moment onward, Ser Jon White Wolf, I formally appoint you—acting in my capacity as your king—as the overall commander for the assault and defense of Highgarden. I look forward to your performance."
Patting Jon on the shoulder once more, Kal brushed past him, found his own reclining chair, lay down, closed his eyes, and began to sleep.
It was an utterly brazen manner of leaving everything unattended, as though to say that Jon would simply have to deal with it himself.
Seeing that Kal did not seem to be joking, Jon stood there hesitating several times before finally forcing down his unease, biting his lip, and turning to leave the tent.
Whether the king was joking or not, his only choice now was to steel himself and press on.
The meeting that followed unfolded exactly as Kal had said: he neither spoke nor uttered a word, merely observing the entire time with a smile on his face, as though he were nothing more than a decorative ornament.
At the meeting, Jon made sure that everyone he felt he could summon had the chance to speak and offer suggestions. Yet whenever people's gazes instinctively turned toward the king, Kal still sat there with his eyes half-closed, wearing an unhurried, leisurely expression.
Randyll Tarly, who had been awakened from a wooden cell and brought here, learned of the situation and then saw that Kal truly did not intend to intervene in the slightest, just as he had said.
For the sake of his own calculations and original intentions, he had not wanted to offer counsel or speak at all. Yet when the meeting reached its midpoint, he ultimately failed to hold onto his patience.
The moment he spoke, Jon visibly let out a breath of relief.
Kal, seated to the side, merely lifted his eyelids to glance at him once, then continued listening in.
And faced with the king's obvious intention to temper and train Jon, those present were not sparing with their own thoughts.
Thus the pre-battle council carried on under Jon's tense expression until nightfall. Meticulous in every detail, he even had the maester write down every single task that needed to be done as a memorandum, so as to remind himself later.
As for Kal, he had long since fallen asleep.
...
Time passed in a blink, and the sky gradually brightened.
By then, the great armies of both sides had already assembled at the agreed-upon battlefield, facing one another.
At a glance, the enemy's numbers were indeed formidable. A force of more than thirty thousand men stretched out into a long formation, its momentum overwhelming.
On Kal's side, even after incorporating the forces of Randyll Tarly, their numbers had only just reached a scale of roughly fifteen thousand men.
They were outnumbered by more than half.
As the battle drew nearer and the tension mounted, Jon still could not restrain himself and came to Kal's side.
"Your Majesty…"
Kal, of course, knew what Jon had come for.
He did not look at him. He simply sat atop a large rock, arms folded, head tilted upward as he gazed at the sky.
At this moment, Kal was not only dressed in brocade robes, he was not even mounted on a horse. It was as though the place where he stood was not a battlefield at all, but an outing in the countryside.
As for Jon's arrival, Kal merely said calmly, "The agenda of your meeting yesterday was very thorough. Lord Randyll Tarly is quite capable. You may try listening to his suggestions."
"However, I must remind you that as the commander, you must also have ideas of your own."
"Once you sit in this position, you must always clearly understand that you are the one who makes the decisions. Therefore, you must be clear about your purpose, and about what your will is."
"Go. Set your mind at ease. This victory was already decided from the very beginning."
From the moment he awoke, Kal had been staring at the sky above, as though there were some beautiful sight to behold there.
Jon instinctively followed his gaze and looked up at the sky as well, yet discovered nothing.
There was only blue sky and white clouds drifting leisurely.
Having come only to receive advice like this, Jon finally abandoned his earlier intentions altogether.
Casting a glance at the king—who today seemed to have deliberately changed into a blue-green brocade robe—he performed a subdued salute and turned to leave.
On the way back, he quickly gathered himself, forcing the unease from his expression and returning it to calm.
There was no room left to turn back. The only thing he could do now was press on.
"Commander!"
Seeing him arrive, Arys Oakheart—who had likewise been thrown by Kal to Jon as a beast of burden—hurriedly stepped forward to greet him.
The remaining men immediately followed suit.
Even Sandor Clegane, the Hound, gave a curt nod.
Jon glanced at them, then cast another look toward the king standing on the high ground not far away. He cleared his throat lightly, tugged on the reins, and turned back around.
"Advance!"
With the order given, the great army began to move.
Although that man—steady as a pillar that held the sea in place—was merely watching the battle from the sidelines, for those soldiers who had witnessed miracles with their own eyes, and who clearly knew how effortlessly the king had defeated famous generals renowned throughout the Seven Kingdoms, their morale remained high all the same.
In the wind, banners streamed and fluttered. Aside from the jeweled river banner representing Kal and the crowned stag banner of House Baratheon, this battle also saw the addition of the white direwolf banner of House White Wolf.
The vast host surged forward across the plain, producing a thunderous rumble.
The infantry advanced head-on, while the cavalry roamed continuously along both flanks and even to the rear, waiting at all times for their orders to be delivered.
Seeing that Kal's side truly showed no fear of war, House Tyrell and the others at Highgarden also began to march in unison.
Upon the battlefield—long since cleared—the north wind swept across, carrying with it a tense, desolate chill.
"At last, it's here."
Kal, who had been observing the heavens since morning, suddenly let a faint smile curl at the corner of his mouth and spoke softly.
His voice was like an unquestionable decree. As soon as the words fell, they scattered with the wind.
On the battlefield, both sides' soldiers—having already reached suitable positions—formed up. The long spears they held aloft were immediately lowered, resting upon the shoulders of the comrades before them.
Suddenly, a sharp, urgent blast of horns rang out from within the ranks. The formations that had been advancing at a measured pace halted at once. The shield-bearing troops at the front swiftly raised their shields, angling them upward toward the sky.
A few seconds later, a sudden, rapid sound like pounding rain burst through the air, and the sky overhead abruptly darkened.
"Defend!"
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh…
Thud, thud, thud…
A rain of arrows fell. Aside from a few truly unlucky men struck by stray shafts slipping through imperfect gaps, the vast majority of the arrows were claimed by shields and the ground around them.
As for the wounded, pairs of hands seized them by the back of the collar and dragged them out of the formation. Those responsible for logistics hurried forward, quickly carrying these "obstructions" away.
At the center of the army, seeing the formation withstand the enemy's attack just as he had anticipated, Jon swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing, and finally let his tension ease a little.
Though everything had been rushed, and he himself had never before faced such a massive and formal war, fortunately, Randyll Tarly's men were experienced. After pushing these arrangements down to the lower levels of command, the results had indeed been significant.
"There's more to come—but it's also time for us to strike back."
At that moment, Garlan Tyrell, who was likewise at Jon's side, suddenly spoke up.
The expression on his face was strange—caught between hesitation and distress.
Yet he still stood there.
Jon glanced at him instinctively, then quickly refocused his attention on the fighting ahead.
Sure enough, taking advantage of the brief lull after the arrow barrage, two mixed formations of archers and infantry on the flanks slightly behind the main infantry line immediately advanced.
Having identified the enemy archers' points of attack, they swiftly occupied open ground that had not been struck, quickly drawing their bows and nocking arrows.
Amid the whoosh-whoosh of flying arrows, the archers on Kal's side returned fire against the enemy.
During this process, with cover provided by the archers on the right flank, the infantry formation continued to advance with shields raised.
Thus, after both sides exchanged blows back and forth for a time, the battle line was pushed into a sensitive, critical position.
Signal flags waved, and horns sounded.
In the span of a single instant, the infantry who had reached their designated positions seized their weapons, abandoned their formations, and charged forward at speed, shouting as they went.
Mirroring Kal's side, Highgarden's forces executed the same arrangement.
If one could look down from high above at this moment, it would be plainly visible that two torrents of different colors were crashing into one another, merging into a single mass.
Blood burst forth without restraint, while screams, wails, and curses rang back and forth.
Jon was not on the front line.
Yet when the infantry of both sides collided and became entangled, tension once again crept into his expression.
No matter what, the fact remained indisputable: on the battlefield, Kal's forces were indeed fewer in number.
Although at this moment the two sides had only just collided and nothing was yet obvious, when viewed as a whole, the enemy was in fact showing signs of an encirclement.
"Right-wing cavalry, move out. Divide into three detachments. Two will strike the enemy formation according to plan to split it, coordinating with the infantry's advance."
"The remaining detachment is to harass and maneuver, creating space for our right wing."
"If the enemy cavalry also moves, the left-wing cavalry is to act immediately. Divide into two groups. One will meet the enemy cavalry head-on, but only to draw them in. The other will slow its movement and lag behind. At the moment the enemy cavalry is successfully lured in, the rear cavalry will separate from the vanguard and cut them off at the waist."
"Once we gain an advantage, all rear-wing cavalry will move together to support the left wing. We will open the situation from the left and seize a local advantage on the battlefield!"
Watching the development of the battle before him, Jon remained extremely tense, yet at the same time calmly issued his commands.
Upon receiving his orders, Arys Oakheart, Garlan Tyrell, and Ser Balon Swann responded at once, swiftly heading toward the cavalry units each was responsible for.
Three of the cavalry detachments had been planned from the outset to be led by them.
As for the cavalry at the rear wing, it was under the command of Sandor Clegane. He had not moved yet. Although Jon had already issued the order, the situation at present was still unclear, and the rear-wing cavalry could not move for the time being.
On the high hill, Kal was no longer gazing at the sky, nor was he sitting upon the rock.
He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, quietly observing the battle below as commanded by Jon.
Although this was Jon's first time commanding a major battle with roughly fifty thousand troops on both sides combined, it was clear that he truly had talent.
The more tense the moment, the better his performance became.
Kal did not know the enemy's specific tactics, but having observed yesterday's meeting, as he looked at the situation unfolding on the battlefield before him, he could also see that Jon's responses were indeed steady and appropriate.
At the very least, the anticipated tactics were being executed, and the rhythm of command was also quite solid.
When, on the battlefield below, the central infantry appeared to be on the verge of suffering a disadvantage, the left-wing cavalry immediately split into three detachments and moved out.
One detachment roamed and harassed, guarding against enemy cavalry attacks, while the remaining two quickly cut into the Tyrell side's infantry formation. They did not press deeply, instead biting off a piece and immediately withdrawing.
The three cavalry detachments maintained a constant sense of being just within reach yet just out of reach.
Although the damage they caused was not great, they did indeed check the enemy's intentions and opened up space for the encirclement by the right-wing formation, allowing the infantry to catch their breath.
Naturally, the enemy did not remain idle in response to the movement of these three cavalry units.
Very quickly, they likewise dispatched cavalry to counter them, but in that fleeting moment, Jon's command objective had already been achieved. The three detached cavalry units instantly merged into a single force.
They did not engage directly. Instead, they kited the enemy cavalry, denying them any opportunity to counterattack.
Yet whenever the enemy showed signs of slowing down, they immediately closed in with threatening maneuvers, forcing that cavalry force into unfavorable exchanges and making them suffer a stifling loss.
And the most brilliant part was still the left wing.
Seeing their own cavalry already deployed, the Highgarden side sent out all of their cavalry at once.
The moment this movement was observed, the left-wing cavalry force under Jon's command immediately took action.
Two cavalry units advanced, one acting as a baiting vanguard, the other following half a beat behind as a rearguard.
Then, at the very instant the two cavalry forces were about to collide, the vanguard cavalry immediately wheeled their horses around, making a sharp turn and putting on the appearance of fleeing.
Instinctively, the opposing cavalry spurred their mounts and gave chase at once.
Before anyone realized it, both cavalry forces had been drawn into a wide arc.
At that moment, the cavalry detachment on Kal's side that served as the rearguard deliberately lagged half a beat behind. With the vanguard providing cover, a gap was instantly opened along the flank.
Seizing this advantage in a split second, the rearguard cavalry that had intentionally slowed down immediately launched a full-speed charge, striking straight at the exposed vital point of the enemy's formation.
However, the battlefield changed in the blink of an eye. The moment Jon saw that the left-wing tactic was succeeding—just as the vanguard had finished luring the enemy into the turn—he immediately drew out the largest rear-wing cavalry regiment and sent it charging forward at full speed to support the battle on the left wing.
"Not bad. Randyll Tarly truly lives up to his reputation as a great commander—he really knows how to fight a war. And Jon, too, is just as keen and decisive in grasping the situation."
"With things like this, I can finally set my mind at ease."
As both an observer and someone fully in the know, although the war had only just begun and was not yet over, Kal had already seen the outcome.
If nothing unexpected occurred, once Jon truly opened up the situation on the left wing, this battle would already be half won.
On an open plain battlefield, when infantry formations clash head-on to fill the lines, these knightly lords are all absolute kings.
What if the enemy has greater numbers? They can still be slaughtered like dogs.
And given the current situation—Highgarden's cavalry responding in haste and lacking any real defensive tactics—the left wing gaining the advantage was already a foregone conclusion.
"Since that's the case, it's time for us to take the stage as well."
"If I remember correctly, Willas Tyrell and that esteemed Lord Pufferfish both invited me to be their guest, didn't they?!"
Karl said with a broad smile.
The moment his words fell, in the sky—which after days of continuous rain had finally welcomed a clear day—there suddenly rang out an ear-splitting dragon's roar.
A dark shadow slowly flew in from the distant sky, glinting faintly with a golden sheen in the morning sunlight.
And it was growing larger and larger.
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