Game of Thrones: Bastard? I’m the Damn Heir!

Chapter 347

"This place is getting livelier by the day…"

In the dim dungeon, a figure in a white cloak leaned against the iron bars, craning his head to look out into the corridor beyond.

As his voice fell, another figure lying in the darkness inside the cell spoke as well.

"Stannis has already gone mad. He has no road left to retreat, yet he still intends to resist to the very end."

"That witch has bewitched his mind. A fool!"

With that said, the Kingsguard knight Ser Balon Swann, leaning against the bars, tapped the iron railing and glanced toward his neighbor in the next cell.

"Hey—Onion Knight, tell me. Was Stannis Baratheon always like this in the past?"

In the darkness, the crisp knocking of iron on iron echoed through the empty dungeon. Yet Davos, imprisoned in the cell next door, did not respond to Balon's question at all.

Seeing that he remained silent, Balon found it dull and sat back down again.

His gaze shifted toward the third man in the same cell.

"Arys, His Grace sent us to protect Lord Eddard Stark. Don't you think this method of protection is somewhat… helpless?"

Lying on the bed, Arys Oakheart turned his head to look at him. Then his gaze passed over him and settled on the cell directly opposite.

"If Stannis Baratheon truly does that, I will defend my duty with my life."

Arys replied in a solemn tone to his sworn brother.

With that, he also sat up.

"Ser Barristan Selmy is right across from us. Do not worry, Balon. With him here, nothing will happen."

Balon shrugged.

"That's true… Still, I wonder when His Grace will return from the North. Let us hope it will not take too long…"

Their conversation was not kept quiet. In the silent dungeon, everyone heard their exchange.

And as the two of them spoke of the North, in the equally dim cell opposite, Eddard Stark, his face weary and worn, raised his head.

"So many things have truly happened in the North?"

"Robb… Tywin Lannister… and Balon Greyjoy…"

Leaning against the innermost wall, Eddard's gaze drifted toward the only opening in the dungeon—a hole the size of a man's head, slanting upward—and he could not help but murmur to himself.

Barristan, who had been half-crouched on the ground doing some simple exercises to keep his body moving, heard his words. Wiping the sweat from his face, he stood up.

"Lord Stark need not worry. The king is there, and the king also has dragons. Nothing will happen to the North."

Barristan assumed Eddard was worried about his homeland, the North, and could not help but offer a word of reassurance.

Eddard merely shook his head.

When he first heard that trouble had arisen in the North, he had indeed felt a moment of worry. But remembering that the king had long ago arranged for the armies of the Vale to enter the North, he was not nearly as concerned about it as he might have imagined.

With the strength of the North and the Vale, Balon Greyjoy, who had abandoned his ships and come ashore, could hardly stir up any real trouble. And Eddard felt that when Balon did this, he perhaps had not intended rebellion from the beginning, but rather wanted to bring his son back.

As for Tywin Lannister, he was likewise nothing to fear.

"Ser Barristan, I have failed King Kal's expectations, and I have never truly been of help to him."

"If this absurd war can end peacefully, I intend to resign from my post and ask the king to relieve me of my duties."

Drawing his gaze back, Eddard looked toward Barristan and spoke in a complicated tone.

Ever since he had decided to ride south to serve as Robert's Hand of the King, in the war against the Lannisters he had accomplished little of note, merely being led about the battlefield by Tywin.

In the end, he had even passively fallen into an extremely dire situation.

At that time, Kal, who had only been a knight and nominally the Warden of the East, had descended like a divine soldier to save the kingdom, pulling him and Robert out of the mire.

Yet afterward, in the handling of the Lannisters, his own mercy had planted such hidden dangers. And now Kal, who had already become king, still had to rush here at this critical moment to clean up the mess left by his past mistake.

Then there was Robert's sudden death, followed by Kal being entrusted with the throne at the last moment.

He had accomplished nothing then either, and had not even managed to give the young man sufficient support.

He had always been dragging things down, always forcing the king to run about because of his own foolish mercy.

It had been so when the Lannisters were divided after the war, and it was so now as well—because he had not wished to see Robert's brothers and Kal turn against one another, and had attempted to resolve the matter by peaceful means.

And now not only had Edric Storm been sacrificed by that evil witch to some dark god, but he himself had also become a hostage used to threaten Kal.

"I am not a competent Hand of the King—only a fool."

Hearing this, Barristan opened his mouth, yet for a moment he did not know how to comfort him.

For when Eddard spoke these words and he thought back on everything, it truly did seem that events had unfolded exactly so.

Although it could not all be blamed on Eddard. What he had tried to do was merely handle the affairs of the realm in a more gentle and restrained manner.

Yet the outcome seemed to leave little room for argument.

The matter of Tywin Lannister had been like that. And as Hand of the King, when Robert ignored the affairs of state and he himself had overseen the court and coordinated everything, it had been the same.

In the dungeon, as the two spoke, the two Kingsguard, Arys Oakheart and Balon Swann, imprisoned across from them, both fell silent.

This was a conversation between great men; there was no place for them to interrupt.

As for the Onion Knight, ever since he had been thrown in here, he had hardly spoken at all.

"Do not think that way, Lord Stark. You have done nothing wrong. It is merely that reality does not always follow one's wishes. You have governed the affairs of state and the realm well—everyone can see that."

Barristan could think of nothing better to say and could only offer a few words of comfort.

Yet at the corner of Eddard's mouth there appeared only a bitter smile.

"Ser Barristan… I wish to ask something of you… both as Hand of the King, and as a personal request."

Eddard's tone became solemn, and Barristan sensed that something was wrong.

He looked toward Eddard, and saw only a trace of determination on his face.

"Speak, so long as it does not violate the oaths and morals I uphold."

"It will not. This is only a plea," Eddard shook his head slightly.

"I wish to ask you—if the time comes that Stannis truly uses me to threaten King Kal, I want you to kill me."

The moment these words were spoken, not only Barristan, but even the Onion Knight, Davos, who had been lying on the bed in the neighboring cell like a living corpse, could not help turning his head toward them.

"This…" Barristan frowned deeply. "No. I cannot agree to this. Protecting your safety is my duty!"

"No, Ser Barristan," Eddard grew somewhat agitated. He rose to his feet and reached out to press down on Barristan, who had rejected him without hesitation.

"Kal has never given you any order to guard me or protect my life."

"I remember clearly that when Kal left King's Landing, he refused to take you with him. The order he gave you was only to protect my daughter, Sansa Stark."

"After Renly Baratheon was killed by Stannis with that shadow, you still forced your way into Storm's End to rescue me. That was because of your own sense of justice. It was not the king's command, and still less your duty."

"Unlike Arys and the others, you can do this."

Hearing this, Barristan himself had not considered that point before.

Indeed—throughout everything, the king had never issued such an order to him. When the king had accepted the royal decree, completed King Robert's funeral, and departed King's Landing, the reason he left him behind had been to protect his future queen, Sansa Stark.

And now he had left Sansa behind in King's Landing, while he himself was here sitting in prison together with Eddard.

"I…" looking at the resolute gaze of Eddard, Barristan found himself unable to speak.

After a long moment, Barristan let out a sigh, and the entire dungeon fell silent once more.

The Onion Knight lay on the stone bed. He drew his gaze back and looked toward the small window, the only opening in the cell, not knowing what he was thinking.

Then he too could not help letting out a sigh, his eyes still confused and hollow.

And in the dungeon where Eddard and Barristan were imprisoned, Arys and Balon Swann looked at one another.

After a moment, Arys glanced toward the opposite cell, then cautiously pulled Balon into a corner by the wall and lowered his voice as much as possible.

"The order His Grace gave us was to protect Lord Eddard Stark. If the time really comes, and Ser Barristan truly intends to kill Lord Eddard Stark…"

Arys did not continue the rest of the sentence, but Balon Swann understood his meaning.

When they thought of how just moments ago they had believed that with Barristan present, Eddard would absolutely be safe, the two of them could not help feeling speechless.

"So… then we…"

The unfortunate Arys and Balon both wore conflicted expressions. After a long moment, a sigh also came from this cell.

…

"The affairs in the North have already been completely settled, yet His Grace is still there. We have even just received word that His Grace has assembled an expeditionary force and marched beyond the Wall."

"At this rate, who knows how long His Grace will remain in the North."

"Lady Arwyn Oakheart, are we still only going to maintain the siege?"

"I suggest we attempt an assault. If we simply stay here and do nothing, we are merely wasting time."

"In the past that foolish pufferfish feared excessive losses in storming the castle, so he adopted a strategy of siege, hoping to force Stannis Baratheon to surrender once his food and supplies were exhausted."

"But what was the result? He accomplished nothing. A mere smuggler turned an entire year of his efforts into nothing."

"I also think we could attempt something. After all, imitating Mace Tyrell only wastes more resources and time, and serves no purpose at all."

"For all we know, Stannis Baratheon may be laughing at us inside Storm's End, just as he laughed at that pufferfish before. If I were Stannis, I certainly would not repeat the same mistake again."

Outside Storm's End, among the army that had completely encircled the castle—having joined forces with the Dornish armies and sealed it tightly from both sea and land—a routine council meeting was being held.

Lady Arwyn Oakheart sat at the head of the table, holding several letters in her hands as she read through them, while half-listening to the arguments exchanged across the council table.

Garlan Tyrell stood behind Lady Arwyn with a stiff expression, listening as the men at the table—most of whom had once been his father's bannermen—took turns cursing the "pufferfish" and insulting Mace Tyrell, who had already lost his title and been reduced to a commoner.

Watching the gathering grow increasingly animated as the discussion went on, their voices rising with excitement, Garlan found himself unable to tell what truly motivated them.

Were these men merely using this opportunity to curse the former House Tyrell, drawing a clear line between themselves and their old liege in order to display their loyalty to King Kal and the Governor of the Mander?

Or had they always despised House Tyrell, only restrained by rank and circumstance before, and now finally seizing the chance to pour out the resentment they had long harbored?

He could not tell.

He truly could not tell.

As a Kingsguard, he could only stand silently to the side and listen.

Before departing, the king had ordered them both to protect Eddard Stark, who was being unlawfully detained inside Storm's End by Stannis Baratheon, and to remain here to support Lady Arwyn on the king's behalf.

Because of their previous identities, the three of them had discussed the matter and decided that Arys Oakheart and Balon Swann would go to Storm's End.

He himself would remain here, representing both the king and the various noble lords of the Reach.

Yet now, with the fall of House Tyrell, and with Baelor Hightower, heir of the Hightower, having arrived, the winds seemed to be shifting in a direction quite different from what he had imagined.

At the thought of this, Garlan could not help frowning. His gaze swept toward Baelor, who was still smiling as he spoke with the person beside him about something unknown.

'Surely these people aren't actually cursing me as well?' Garlan could not help thinking to himself. Yet his eyes shifted again toward his younger brother, who sat silently at the council table—the "Knight of Flowers," Loras Tyrell.

Although House Tyrell had been stripped of its status by Kal because of what had happened before, the king had not taken further action. He had even kept the former "Rose of Highgarden," Margaery Tyrell, at Casterly Rock.

Therefore, many of the nobles tacitly accepted that Loras could still sit at the table.

Thinking of these things, Garlan could not help recalling the events of the past few months, and inwardly he let out a sigh.

The noisy discussion continued for quite some time. By then, Lady Arwyn, seated at the head of the table, had nearly finished dealing with the official letters in her hands. She glanced at the sky outside the tent—it was nearly time for the midday meal.

She then tapped the table.

"Enough, enough. Quiet down. Before leaving, the king's order was clear—we are to maintain the siege only and not attack. No rash actions."

"If anyone wishes to violate the king's command, I permit him to try it alone. Of course, that will have nothing to do with the rest of us, and I will bear no responsibility for it."

As soon as Lady Arwyn spoke, the council table immediately fell silent.

The moment she invoked Kal, the many nobles—who had merely been bored and using the chance to curse House Tyrell—looked at one another, shrugged, and pretended that nothing had happened.

Of course, Lady Arwyn had not spoken merely to quiet them.

Aside from reminding them that it was nearly time for the meal, she paused for a moment, then suddenly added, "However, it is not as if there is no solution."

Those who had not been paying much attention immediately turned their heads toward her.

"There is no need for us to hurry. The king's command is already clear, and fighting would only cost more."

"After all, once the king is free and returns with his dragon, a few breaths of dragonfire might well burn through these stones."

"What the Drowned God and the Storm God cannot accomplish does not mean the 'king' cannot."

At this point, Lady Arwyn deliberately emphasized the word "king." Everyone present understood the implication and nodded silently.

This was also why they had been so enthusiastic in cursing the "pufferfish," condemning House Tyrell, and even insulting House Redwyne of the Arbor.

"My lady speaks well. But the method you mentioned just now—what is it?"

Baelor had sensed that Arwyn seemed to be hinting at something.

Lady Arwyn looked toward him, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly.

"The ones besieging Storm's End are not only us. Prince Oberyn of Dorne may well be more impatient than we are."

"After all, they truly do need to do something now to prove themselves."

---

I will post some extra Chapters in Patreon, you can check it out. >> patreon.com/TitoVillar

---