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

Chapter 349

"What, according to your understanding, would be the method used to breach this Wall of ice?"

"Flames? Vibrations? Or perhaps some kind of attack that is similar yet completely different?"

Seeing that Erevi actually possessed some knowledge about the natural barrier that was the Wall, Kal's eyes lit up, and he quickly asked.

If they could obtain a clear understanding, then their later defenses against the attacks of the White Walkers would also become more targeted and better prepared.

However, when faced with this question, Erevi thought for a moment, then shook her head.

"Hard to say. I have not studied this thing in any great detail. Moreover, some of the rules of this world are not the same as those of our world—for example, the seasons here."

"Even what I just said was only a judgment based on intuition and experience."

"If we want to know for certain, it would require a systematic study of this world's knowledge, whether magic or gods. I can sense that the course of this world is not ordinary—there are certain patterns behind it."

Erevi explained in detail, speaking of what she had sensed since arriving in this world.

Erevi truly deserved her reputation as a great figure—she could still give him surprises. Kal immediately excitedly slapped the plumpness before him.

It was simply too convenient to the hand.

"You are not wrong. Some believe that behind this world lies the contest of gods, or perhaps something else. No one can provide any concrete proof."

"This possibility is simply the most likely."

…

The Wall lay far from Storm's End. Under ordinary marching conditions, traveling the stretch of the Kingsroad that connected Storm's End to the Wall—even for a three-man team with six horses riding at full speed—would still require nearly two months to accomplish.

But this problem was obviously no problem for a giant dragon that could soar through the sky, drink all kinds of potions, and fly without sleep.

In only two days and one night, Robert—supplied without limit with all manner of potions, strength potions whenever he lacked strength, agility potions whenever his speed was not fast enough, energy potions whenever he grew tired, and other miscellaneous concoctions—hurried along and still arrived at Storm's End by the evening of the second day.

Yet just as Kal and Robert, already so tired that he had begun sticking out his tongue, prepared to press down through the clouds and descend, they suddenly discovered that Storm's End—where Kal had only ordered that it be surrounded—was actually in the midst of a battle.

Storm's End was a fortress built upon a cliff. The walls facing the sea rose fully 45 meters above the waters below.

Thus, attempting to launch an attack on Storm's End from the sea was nothing short of a fantasy; only on land did attackers have even the slightest opportunity.

Yet now at Storm's End, not only was the fleet on the sea harassing and attacking the castle atop the cliffs, but on land a brutal siege battle was already underway.

The clamor of killing and fighting was so loud that even Kal could hear it from the sky.

"What is going on? Did I not tell Arwyn Oakheart and the others not to act rashly?"

"Could it be that Stannis, seeing that victory was hopeless, tried to break out, only to be forced back by Arwyn Oakheart and the others?"

Looking down at the battlefield below, Kal found himself utterly unable to make sense of it. Only this conjecture seemed somewhat plausible.

However, as Robert began to descend gradually from above the clouds, Kal looked again at the battlefield below and saw that the army leading the assault on Storm's End was in fact the Dornish host, their banners bearing the emblem of a red sun pierced by a golden spear. For a moment, Kal was left somewhat stunned.

"Let's go down and take a look."

If he could not figure it out, then he would simply ask.

Kal patted Robert's neck. At once Robert gave a dragon's roar, like thunder.

The roar caused the battlefield below, where the sounds of killing rang out in waves, to fall suddenly quiet.

Hearing the sound, people looked up one after another, only to see a golden figure slowly descending from the sky.

The Reach nobles stationed at the rear to supervise the battle—doing only some auxiliary harassment—also looked up instinctively. Then their faces filled with joy.

"It's a dragon! King Kal has returned!"

Amid the astonished cheers, the dragon landed behind the battlefield. Kal leapt directly down from the dragon's back, his gaze strange as he looked at the battlefield before him.

Before long, the Reach nobles led by Lady Arwyn rushed forward together and knelt in a mass before Kal.

"Welcome back, Your Grace!"

"Rise," Kal said, unwilling to bother with excessive ceremony. He waved his hand, then quickly asked again, "Did I not give the order that Storm's End was not to be attacked, and that everything was to wait until I returned?"

"So what exactly is going on here?"

As he spoke, Kal pointed toward the battlefield before them.

Because of his appearance, the once-heated battlefield suddenly slowed in tempo. Both sides—the attackers and the defenders—could not help but cast their gazes over.

Seeing that the king had asked, Lady quickly stepped forward.

"Your Grace, we have always followed your orders. However, these Dornish troops seemed eager to gain further honor, so…"

Not even a ghost would believe that.

Hearing Lady Arwyn's explanation, the corner of Kal's mouth twitched.

The Dornish did not bear the same hatred toward Stannis as they did toward Tywin Lannister. And when it came down to it, this was still Kal's family affair. Given Dorne's lukewarm—and even faintly hostile—relationship with the Seven Kingdoms, it was hard to believe they would trouble themselves with such a thankless task.

Thinking this, Kal could not help but glance at these nobles, each one as shrewd as the next.

He was not a fool. After a moment's thought, he understood roughly what was going on.

Then he shook his head.

"Enough. Have them withdraw. I have already seen Dorne's sincerity and loyalty. There is no need to create such needless losses now."

"And Stannis is no fool either. After I left him to stew for this period of time, he has likely cooled down enough."

"Tomorrow I will speak with him directly. I believe he will be able to see the reality before him and know what he ought to do."

"And after the troops withdraw, have Prince Oberyn Martell come see me. Tell him I invite him."

Kal had no interest in dwelling on these political matters. Once he had roughly understood the reason, he decisively put an end to this war that used blood as a performance and a show of allegiance.

After speaking, Kal beckoned to Erevi, then immediately turned and walked toward the command tent on his side.

Having received Kal's order, Lady Arwyn hurriedly nodded in acknowledgment. She did not even spare a thought for the fact that there was a dark-skinned woman riding on the king's dragon.

Before long, the signal to withdraw spread across the battlefield. With the appearance of the dragon, both sides—already unwilling to continue the fight—smoothly ceased hostilities.

After roughly half an hour, Oberyn Martell, clad in armor and covered in blood, strode into Kal's command tent and at once saw the young man seated at the head.

Compared with the last time he had seen him, his bearing was even stronger.

With only a glance, Oberyn noticed the change in Kal.

He stepped forward quickly and gave a slight bow. "Greetings, Your Grace, King Kal."

After finishing the salute, Oberyn raised his head again and noticed the conspicuous woman beside Kal—a woman with dark gray skin and a pair of long, pointed ears.

He could not help but look at the woman a few more times. Though puzzled, Oberyn continued, "May I know why the king has summoned me?"

Seeing that the "Red Viper" had clearly known he had been summoned yet deliberately come before him wearing blood-stained battle armor, Kal could not help but mutter inwardly that Oberyn was no simple man.

They were all seasoned schemers.

"Besides not wishing for the soldiers to pay with their lives unnecessarily, I believe I must offer an apology to Prince Oberyn for my discourtesy the last time."

As he spoke, Kal raised a hand and gestured toward the empty seat beside him. "Sit."

Hearing Kal's words, Oberyn was slightly startled. He then recalled that the last time the two had crossed paths had been in King's Landing.

At that time Robert had just suffered an assassination attempt, then returned and died in King's Landing.

If both sides had not still exercised some restraint—and if the sudden appearance of the Faceless assassin had not diverted the conflict—perhaps he would already have lost his life, and Dorne would have been drawn into the war as well.

Thinking back on how he had later been thrown into prison, he realized it had actually been fortune and luck. After all, once the misunderstanding was cleared up, matters had ultimately not developed in the worst possible direction.

Oberyn took his seat and gave a slight bow. "That matter was nothing more than a misunderstanding, Your Grace. I have never taken it to heart."

"Still, I am grateful that Your Grace was able to remain calm at the time. Perhaps fortune favored me."

"And it seems that not much time has passed since we last parted, yet in the blink of an eye things have come to this. It truly invites a sigh."

Listening to Oberyn say that he had not taken the matter to heart while still bringing it up again and again between the lines, Kal shook his head once more.

"Yes. Fortunately we stopped in time and discovered who the true culprit was."

"Otherwise Tywin Lannister might well have escaped punishment."

"Though it is a pity that during this journey to the North I was unable to personally end his life and bring back his head."

Kal did not respond to Oberyn's words and simply shifted the subject.

Then he looked at Oberyn, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. "Perhaps I might also send his head—together with the Mountain's head from before—to Dorne as a token of friendship and a gift."

Hearing Kal's high-sounding words, Oberyn—who had deliberately come without even wiping the blood from his face—could not help but twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Sure enough, this boy was not as simple as he had seemed, all brute strength and nothing else.

Faced with the emotional card he had played, the fellow not only defused it in a single move, but also casually brought up the matter of the Mountain.

With a wry smile, Oberyn could not be bothered to keep up the act any longer. He simply lifted one leg and leaned back against the chair.

"Your Grace, King Kal—no discord, no concord. I believe we are friends, and Dorne as well."

Too lazy to trade further verbal thrusts, Oberyn laid his cards plainly on the table.

Kal smiled with satisfaction. "The Mountain's head has made our friendship most solid."

"So Prince Doran—and Dorne—think the same?"

Oberyn nodded.

"Of course, Your Grace. My brother, Prince Doran Martell, is unable to travel because of his health, and cannot personally come to express his loyalty to you. I hope you will not mind if I offer Dorne's and House Martell's allegiance to you in his stead."

"Of course I do not mind. It is my honor."

One old fox and one young fox.

With only a few words between them, the two quietly drew the line that would define the relationship between Dorne and the Seven Kingdoms now ruled by Kal.

When the words were finished, the two looked at each other and both laughed.

When clever men speak, it is always this simple. From Dorne's present actions and Oberyn's promise, Kal understood their meaning.

"It is already late outside, Prince Oberyn. As it happens Lady Arwyn and the others have prepared a feast for me. Why not join us?"

Glancing at the darkening sky outside the tent, Kal extended the invitation.

The matter settled and everyone satisfied, inviting him to share a meal was only natural.

Hearing this, Oberyn also rose with a smile and placed a hand over his chest in salute.

"I am honored to receive your invitation, Your Grace. Please allow me to change into more proper attire, so as not to disgrace it."

"Only proper. There is still some time before the feast. My pet went into the forest and hunted several aurochs. The last time I tasted them was on the riverbank at King's Landing—now I shall have the chance to enjoy that delicacy again."

As Kal spoke, he also stood and gestured with his hand.

Oberyn assumed Kal meant that giant dragon and could not help but complain inwardly.

"To enjoy the giant—watch out!"

Just as Oberyn was about to say something polite, a sudden cold gust swept through the tent, and something seemed to flash inside.

Before Oberyn could finish his words, his neck instinctively jerked back.

Looking up, he saw a shadow standing before him.

The next moment, the shadow drew a sword and, in a flash, thrust it toward the chest of Kal, who had just risen to see his guest out.

As a capable warrior, Oberyn's reaction could not have been faster. Realizing something was wrong, he instinctively shouted a warning and lunged toward the shadow that was rushing at Kal with a blade in hand.

And just as he stared wide-eyed, his gaze nearly splitting with fury at the scene before him, recalling what the "Knight of Flowers," Loras Tyrell, had once said about Renly's death—

Kal and the somewhat mysterious dark gray-skinned woman both seemed unsurprised by the appearance of this shadow.

Even when the cold wind swept through and the shadow leapt up from the ground with the flicker of the lamplight, the corner of Kal's mouth curled into a faint smile.

Facing the shadow's assassination attempt, Oberyn—who had only just shifted his foot forward by a small step—saw the loosely standing Kal suddenly flash with light in his right hand.

Then a long sword whose blade glowed with radiance was lightly raised, casually knocking aside the shadow sword that had been thrust toward his chest.

In the next instant, a faint glimmer also lit at the tip of Kal's foot.

At the very moment the shadow sword was deflected, he kicked toward the belly of the shadow that by all rights should have been intangible and formless.

The two collided without a sound.

Yet whether it was the suddenly appeared radiant sword that had parried the shadow blade—which was said to slice through armor that even a great axe could not cleave, cutting it like butter—

Or the foot that struck the shadow—

Both seemed to have hit something solid.

The shadow that had risen from the lamplight was kicked over and knocked to the ground.

As the shadow fell, as though formed of dark smoke, it appeared to have suffered some harm; the elusive smoke scattered like drifting dust.

"Stannis, you chose the wrong opponent."

"And you should not have used such means against me."

After deflecting the assassination with a single stroke and kicking the shadow assassin aside, Kal raised the glowing longsword and pointed it coldly at the shadow lying on the ground.

But the shadow seemed to possess no reason. After writhing about on the ground in confusion, it rose again.

The shadow sword in its hand once more pointed toward Kal, its tip aimed at his throat.

Oberyn, who had instinctively wanted to do something, froze in place, staring blankly at everything unfolding before him.

By now he had already realized what had happened. A chill ran down his back, and cold sweat unknowingly slid down, soaking through his clothes.

At that moment, only one thought remained in his mind.

'Why is it that every time I am alone with Kal Baratheon in a situation like this, he ends up being assassinated?'

'Last time it was the Faceless assassin during Robert's affair, and now this sorcerous shadow assassin…'

'Damn it, what exactly is going wrong?!'

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