From this moment on, people finally understood in a truly tangible way why this man bore the name Bloodwind.
No—more than that.
Any weapon in his hands—whether a lance, a greatsword, or a warhammer—would radiate a brilliance like the sun itself the instant it appeared.
No one illuminated by that light could summon anything called courage in his presence.
And the ring of lightning that guarded his body would unerringly seek out every enemy near him, as though even daring to lift their eyes toward him was forbidden, and must be punished by the hand of a god.
A god walking among men.
The moment the two sides came into contact, the war was already over.
A single man charging into an army of a thousand—under the radiance of light and thunder, it was instead the thousand-man army that collapsed entirely, like an illusory soap bubble bursting all at once.
Thus, the battle began swiftly, and it ended just as swiftly.
By the time Kal cut through the battlefield and hurled Garlan Tyrell down before the Lady of the castle of Old Oak, Arwyn Oakheart, only one choice remained to her.
Dismount.
Kneel.
Bow low.
She knelt beneath the man who, holding a faintly glowing lance in one hand, wreathed in crackling lightning, sat astride a dark chestnut warhorse and looked down upon her from above.
"The House of Oakheart awaits your command, Your Majesty King Kal I of the great House Baratheon."
"The great Knight of Bloodwind, the warrior hailed alongside courage and strength, Father of Dragons, master of light and thunder—great and exalted… my lord."
Lady Arwyn Oakheart bowed low, kneeling upon the ground, her forehead pressed firmly to the earth.
At the edge of her vision, she could see only the grass before her, the soil churned by the horse's hooves, and the hem of a cloak fluttering in the wind—black as its base, edged in red and traced with gold, bearing the sigil of the Ruby Ford.
Yet her voice had never been as reverent, as devout, as it was at this moment.
She softly recited the titles she had witnessed and heard, as though reading from The Seven-Pointed Star.
At this moment, even when praying to the Seven within the sept, she had never been as sincere as she was now.
Facing the man before her, she could not help but recall what was recorded in The Seven-Pointed Star: according to legend, the Seven had once taken human form and walked among the hills of Andalos.
There, they personally crowned Hugo, the "King of the Hills," and promised that his descendants would one day possess a great kingdom in the Promised Land.
The "King of the Hills," Hugo, had also seen in a heaven-sent vision that one day there would be a Promised Land belonging to the Andals, which he described as "a land of gold among the peaks."
And when she thought of the Seven taking human form, when she thought of The Seven-Pointed Star, Lady Arwyn Oakheart, kneeling upon the ground, could not help but think of the doctrines recorded within The Seven-Pointed Star.
The doctrine said: "Pride is the beginning of failure."
"The lives of mortals are but candles in the wind; even a gentle breeze may extinguish them."
"In this world, death is never far from us, and the Seven Hells await those sinners who fail to repent."
Facing Kal, they seemed to be precisely those candles in the wind.
But the doctrine also said: "All sins shall ultimately be forgiven, but one must first accept punishment."
Lady Arwyn Oakheart believed that her sins might yet be forgiven, and that she must show her attitude, and then await the punishment that belonged to her.
As for Lady Arwyn Oakheart's surrender on the battlefield, Kal was not surprised.
What did surprise him somewhat was this woman's devout recitation of such a long string of titles, which left Kal momentarily taken aback.
This caused him, almost instinctively, to glance at the glowing lance in his hand, as well as the lightning encircling his body.
He had not expected that the special effects he had produced in order to end the war as quickly as possible would apparently cause the Lady of Old Oak before him to misunderstand something.
Realizing this, Kal swept his gaze over the crowd before him who were likewise bowing and kneeling along with Lady Arwyn Oakheart.
After remaining silent for a few seconds, Kal decided not to explain anything.
However, he casually drove the glowing lance in his hand back into the ground and planted it firmly, freeing one hand, then withdrew the special effects surrounding his body. He then looked at Lady Arwyn Oakheart, kneeling on the ground, and a calm voice rang out.
"I accept your surrender, Lady Arwyn Oakheart of Old Oak."
This war was the largest in terms of sheer numbers that Kal had encountered in his entire life.
But the blood that stained his weapon was the least it had ever been, and it was also the fastest it had ever ended.
Back when he fought guerrilla battles against the Lannister army on the Riverlands battlefield north of the Red Fork, each time he would wipe out every enemy before him.
Even when he conquered Shagga and the other mountain clans in the Mountains of the Moon, Kal had cut them down one by one before he subdued them.
As for that time in King's Landing, there was no need to mention it.
Yet this battle before their eyes—an open, head-on fight of nearly ten thousand men—from beginning to end, had lasted no more than the time it took him to make a single charge.
The blood on his lance was only the blood of those who had gone mad and still dared to strike back at him.
However, faced with the perceptive Lady of Old Oak, Arwyn Oakheart, Kal did not respond to her words that so plainly declared loyalty.
Nor did he have any intention of dismounting. Still mounted on Fawkes, he simply said a single line, accepting her surrender.
When Lady Arwyn Oakheart heard this, her shoulders trembled. Instinctively she wanted to raise her head, but she quickly lowered it again, afraid that the slightest movement might offend the god among men before her.
Suppressing the unease in her heart, only then did her gaze drift toward Garlan Tyrell, who had been tossed before her by Kal as casually as one would throw away trash.
Thinking of what he had said before the war began, she could not help but twitch at the corner of her mouth.
The doctrine said that pride is the beginning of failure.
They had thought the enemy they faced was a man who could not see himself, a man who clung to fantasies and foolish longing.
But no one had told them that this man would be holding a weapon that shone like the sun, with thunder and lightning circling his body as protection.
Only after personally experiencing such a miracle did Lady Arwyn Oakheart realize that what they faced was, at its core, the miracle itself.
Perhaps the man before her was the Seven's incarnation in the mortal world—one of the Seven walking among men.
Faced with the defeat before her, and with Kal Baratheon standing before her, able to take her life at any moment, Lady Arwyn Oakheart used this manner of thinking to persuade herself to accept everything that had happened.
But Garlan Tyrell, flung to the ground at random, now lay on his back, staring upward with hollow eyes, as though unable to accept what had happened.
For he had originally been seated in the central army, holding the line, and when Kal Baratheon's sudden charge came, all he could do was watch as this man, brandishing a glowing weapon, thunder roaring around his body, reached him without the slightest obstruction.
Then he had no chance to resist—or rather, he did not dare to resist at all—before a large hand reached out, grabbed his cloak, and simply hauled him along one-handed, jolting all the way until he was brought before Lady Arwyn Oakheart.
At this moment, his formidable martial skill had no room to be brought into play whatsoever, even though in his usual training he was accompanied by three to five men, sometimes even facing them all attacking him together.
"Ser Garlan Tyrell?"
Noticing Lady Arwyn Oakheart's gaze, Kal also remembered that there was still such a person.
He immediately turned his head as well, looking down at this man lying on his back, his face filled with terror, as though his soul had left his body.
Hearing Kal's voice, Garlan instinctively turned his head to look.
But at the instant his eyes met the gaze within the dragon-headed helm, he could not help but shudder.
For although that towering figure stood with the sun and the comet at his back, the sky as his backdrop, within the helmet there was only a pitch-black void, like an abyss.
In Garlan's eyes, at this moment, Kal seemed to have become the incarnation of the Stranger among the Seven.
"K–Kal… Your Majesty."
Garlan Tyrell's voice began to tremble, filled with fear.
"In this world, death is never far from us, and the Seven Hells await those sinners who fail to repent."
Listening to the exchange between the two, Lady Arwyn Oakheart once again recalled a doctrine from The Seven-Pointed Star.
However, just as Lady Arwyn Oakheart thought that Kal would kill this man who had dared to offend him, that indifferent voice instead surprised her somewhat.
"Tell me your choice."
Yet after asking Garlan Tyrell this question, Kal showed that he did not particularly care.
He no longer looked at Garlan Tyrell, but instead turned his head toward the battlefield that he had pierced through alone on horseback.
This time, on the battlefield, he had not deliberately caused excessive slaughter.
However, as he broke through and captured the enemy's leading general, the soldiers also lost all morale and courage.
Facing the Westernlands army that arrived in succession, these men stopped where they stood and chose to surrender one after another.
Even the armored knights cast aside their weapons, dismounted, knelt on the ground, and raised both hands high.
Throughout this process, no one dared to flee.
The Westernlands forces that had followed Kal accomplished all of this without throwing a single punch or kick, easily capturing an enemy force two to three times their own number.
As Kal's gaze swept over them, the battlefield—which had maintained an eerie stillness—and the many pairs of complicated eyes were all startled at once, and one after another they lowered their heads.
No one dared to meet a god's gaze.
Even if Kal was not truly a god.
At this moment, he already was.
Seeing this scene, Kal felt a mixture of emotions.
He then withdrew his gaze and looked once more at Garlan Tyrell. He had already given him time to consider.
Yet when he saw Kal looking over, facing that abyss-like depth reminiscent of the Stranger, Garlan, his face gone pale, asked, "Will you kill me?"
Before Kal could answer his question, two white-clad knights, their armor unmarked by dust, rode up at speed.
The appearance of Ser Arys Oakheart and Ser Balon Swann, two members of the Kingsguard, interrupted what Kal had originally intended to say.
The two said nothing, but swiftly dismounted and knelt on one knee before Kal.
"Your Majesty!"
Seeing their white cloaks, Kal suddenly thought of Margaery Tyrell, whom he had previously sent to Casterly Rock.
The man before him was her elder brother.
"Given that you had no time to do anything, I can give you a chance."
"There are still vacancies among my Kingsguard. I permit you to become one of my sworn shields, to redeem the crimes you have committed."
Kneeling on the ground, Ser Arys Oakheart and Ser Balon Swann instinctively exchanged a glance upon hearing this, then looked toward Garlan Tyrell, who was still lying on the ground.
There was complexity in both their eyes.
Lying on the ground and looking up at Kal, Garlan Tyrell also seemed not to have expected that he would receive the Stranger's mercy, and this caused him to relax involuntarily.
As for Lady Arwyn Oakheart, seeing her son arrive, she had not yet had time to feel joy at the sight of him when, upon hearing Kal's words, she hurriedly reminded Garlan Tyrell before her.
"The great King Kal Baratheon I has shown you his mercy!"
Urgency filled her voice, as though she wished she could answer in his stead.
Lady Arwyn Oakheart's reminder jolted Garlan awake.
Seeing that Kal not only did not kill him, but was even willing to allow him to become one of his Kingsguard—faced with such an honor, Garlan, who had already prepared himself for death, confirmed that he had not misheard and was immediately overcome with joy.
Although he already had a wife, that was not important.
"This is my honor."
At this moment, Garlan no longer looked like a man who had lost his soul and was waiting for death. He hastily rolled over to his feet, then followed Lady Arwyn Oakheart's example and knelt prostrate on the ground, shouting his reply.
Seeing that he did not stubbornly stiffen his neck to put on a show of defiance, Kal nodded expressionlessly.
"Then gather your troops and the troops of House Oakheart. Disband them on the spot and reorganize them, merging them with my current forces. I will wait for you in Old Oak."
"Ser Balon Swann, you will remain here with Ser Garlan Tyrell. Have Ser Sandor Clegane and Ser Bronn accompany you as well."
"Tell them not to slack off. Handle matters cleanly. After that, I will place these troops under your command."
With that, Kal lightly pressed his heels to his horse's flanks, casually picked up the lance standing at his side, and rode alone toward Old Oak in the distance.
This place was now his spoil of war.
Ser Balon Swann, whose name had been called, remained behind.
Ser Arys Oakheart deliberately stayed as well, giving him a brief nod.
However, before departing, he paused for a moment and took the opportunity to whisper a few urgent words into his mother's ear, then hurried to follow his king.
Lady Arwyn Oakheart, upon hearing her son's words, first showed a flicker of movement in her eyes. She then quickly issued a few instructions to the guards at her side, before following after him alone at speed.
The war was already over, and the matters of clearing up the battlefield no longer required Kal's concern.
Moreover, his departure at this moment was, in fact, a good thing under such circumstances.
He needed to give these soldiers a bit of time and space to indulge in their own imaginings. Kal knew that they would persuade themselves.
If it went slowly, he would need to wait one night.
If it went quickly, then he would not even need to wait until supper—they would already have become his army.
And one marked by an exceptionally high degree of loyalty, even fanaticism.
With this reinforcement secured, all he needed to do next was gather a bit more strength in Old Oak, make up a force of ten thousand men, and then he could continue onward to take Highgarden.
...
Time passed in the blink of an eye. Before long, Kal was already seated in the great hall of Old Oak.
Yet what was placed before him now was not a lavish evening meal, but a white raven confined within a golden cage, along with a maester who served Old Oak standing at the side.
"A white raven?"
"That means… autumn has arrived?"
Kal looked at the raven before him and could not help but stroke his chin, feeling vaguely that the timing seemed a little early, though without a strong sense of it.
"Your Majesty, to be precise, winter has already arrived."
"This long summer has ended. It lasted a total of ten years, one month, and thirteen days."
Seeing him speak this way, the maester at the side looked at Kal's youthful face and, seemingly worried that Kal did not fully understand what the white raven represented, hurried to explain.
After giving this reminder, he paused slightly, thought for a moment, and then deliberately added a reminder of the exact duration of this long summer.
Hearing this length of time, Kal could not help but sigh inwardly.
Although with the rising of the comet he had long anticipated this, at the moment he personally saw the white raven, Kal still involuntarily felt a chill.
This suddenly made him think of something else.
"By the way, why has there been no news at all from the Black Castle?"
As he thought of this, Kal's brows knit slightly, and unease rose within his heart.
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