Walder Frey's dinner ended earlier than expected. The feast had been loud at first—clattering plates, the murmur of servants, and the heavy breaths of guests who had marched long miles to arrive here. But once everyone had eaten their fill, the hall gradually quieted, leaving only the fading scent of roasted meats and the lingering tension that always accompanied the Lord of the Crossing.
Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark offered polite excuses as soon as they could. Both claimed weariness after the march, though the reasons behind their retreat were different. Robert wanted to escape the suffocating atmosphere of Frey hospitality, while Eddard's mind had already drifted back to the army encamped outside Riverrun. He carried responsibility like a second cloak.
The King was invited to rest in Walder Frey's castle for the night. Stark, however, insisted on returning to his men to prepare for the next day's movements. And so, despite the food and forced smiles, nothing meaningful was concluded at the feast. Old Frey had spoken many words, but none of them settled anything.
Even the marriage proposal—offering his youngest and prettiest daughter to Robb Stark—failed to sway the cautious Duke. Eddard did not express agreement, nor did he reject the offer outright. He merely listened, nodded, and observed. Walder Frey, cunning as always, did not push harder. Instead, he disguised his impatience under the guise of generosity.
"There is no need to rush," he had said, waving a frail hand dramatically. "Consider it well, Duke Stark. Good marriages are like fine wine—they require time."
His tone had been light, but the sharp glint in his eye betrayed the scheming creature beneath.
Karl was required to stay with Robert for the night. As the King's closest protector, it was unthinkable to leave him alone under Frey's roof. Karl had resigned himself to it—until the old fox suddenly called his name.
"Karl Stonestone, Knight!"
The words sliced through the chatter still lingering in the hall. Karl paused, glanced toward the King for permission, then stepped forward and bowed.
"It is an honor to find shelter from the wild's chill under your roof, Marquis Frey," Karl said politely.
The old man's lips curled. His smile was thin, sly, and dangerous, as if hiding a hundred schemes underneath.
"But do you know me, my lord?" Karl added, genuinely puzzled.
Walder Frey chuckled and looked briefly toward Robert, gauging his reaction before answering.
"Karl Knight, you are far too modest. I doubt anyone in the Seven Kingdoms has not heard of you by now." His voice rose theatrically for the hall to hear. "Given time, I daresay singers will compose songs of your deeds. Perhaps you shall be even more legendary than 'Tall Duncan'!"
Karl forced a smile. Praise from Walder Frey felt less like compliment and more like bait. The old man was showing goodwill, yes—but not without purpose. Nothing about him was ever without purpose.
"My deeds are not worthy of such praise, Lord Frey," Karl replied smoothly.
"They are," Frey said without hesitation. "An old man who has lived half his life sees things clearly, boy."
There was something too warm, too eager in the old man's voice. The more he looked at Karl, the more satisfied he seemed—like a merchant had just spotted a valuable item.
Walder Frey then waved at his young wife, instructing her to help him prepare to leave the hall. But as he passed Karl, he suddenly leaned close—much too close—reeking of old perfume and sweat. He patted Karl's chest with a shaking hand and whispered with a sleazy smile:
"If you like, you may pick any girl in my household tonight. I'd be delighted if you left behind a Bastard son. And if you prefer something more legitimate…" He paused, eye twinkling. "I can marry one of my daughters to you as well. I assure you—she will be more beautiful than Robb Stark's bride."
He let out a wheezing chuckle before hobbling away on his cane, supported by his wife.
Karl exhaled sharply, resisting the urge to wipe his chest where the old man's hand had touched. Walder Frey's smell lingered like a curse.
Why is he acting like this? Karl wondered. What could this old fox possibly want from me?
Favor? Influence? Future leverage? Every possibility carried danger.
Before Karl could unravel the intention, Robert approached.
The King placed a heavy hand on Karl's shoulder and gave him a grin far too meaningful for Karl's liking.
"You need not stand guard tonight," Robert declared. "If the weasel is willing to be that generous, I see no reason for you not to enjoy yourself."
Karl froze. Enjoy? With Frey's women? That was the exact trap Frey wanted him to step into.
His heart tightened.
But he kept his expression blank and replied calmly, "Lord Frey's family seems very fond of marriages, especially with great houses. And I think I heard that even the Lannister Family married into theirs?"
Robert paused, frowned, then rubbed his chin.
"Ah… you mean Tywin Lannister's sister—Jynessa Lannister. Her husband is Emmon Frey, one of Walder's sons. Strange… why didn't we see him tonight?"
Robert's brow furrowed deeper as he muttered to himself.
Karl leaned close and whispered, "Your Majesty, should we return to the camp?"
Robert's gaze snapped up. For a moment, he observed Karl's steady, silent concern. Then he laughed loudly and slapped Karl's arm.
"You think Walder Frey would harm me? Ned's army is outside his castle. Does he have the guts?"
Karl stared at him without answering. His silence alone conveyed his opinion.
The King's frustration melted. He squeezed Karl's arm, his tone lowering fondly.
"Boy, we ate his bread and salt. As long as I don't leave the castle and accept any personal gifts, he cannot violate guest right."
He spread his arms wide and declared proudly:
"And remember—I am the King! Not some timid mouse!"
With a booming laugh, Robert turned and strode away, waving behind him.
"Have a wonderful night, lad! We've much to do tomorrow!"
Karl watched him go, silently cursing the King's reckless confidence.
Walder Frey was treating them as guests—for now. But trusting a man like him was like trusting a hungry wolf not to bite.
Karl could not kill Frey, though the thought drifted through his mind. A single Withered Thorn thrown at the right moment would end the old man instantly. But killing him would ignite chaos. His countless sons would tear Riverrun apart in a succession war. And worse—without a stable rear, war with the Lannisters would become a disaster.
He exhaled slowly.
If Robert wouldn't listen… Karl had to act on his own.
He signaled Kesi, Hall, and Jon to gather around.
"Jon," Karl said quietly, "you'll return to the North army's camp. Bring Biden and Hoover back with you. I want the three of you watching every movement inside Riverrun."
Jon nodded—but worry flickered in his eyes.
Karl then pulled something from beneath his garments: a block of wood and two bundles wrapped in oil paper.
Kesi and Hall's expressions sharpened immediately.
"These are special lard blocks," Karl explained. "And this wood is… unique. Put them together and a single spark will ignite an intense flame."
He placed them in their hands.
"You two will remain here. Guard the King's room. If the Frey Family makes even the smallest suspicious move—light these."
Karl's voice hardened with command.
"Jon, once you see flames from the castle, you run to Duke Eddard Stark immediately. Do not hesitate."
The three men straightened, understanding the weight of his order.
"Understood, boss!" Kesi and Hall answered together.
Jon nodded firmly. "I understand, my lord. But… what about you?"
Karl smiled faintly, almost amused.
"Me? The fog of war is thick. Someone needs to clear it."
He adjusted his cloak and stepped back, eyes narrowing with purpose.
"So I'm going to go grab a few tongues."
Jon's mouth dropped open slightly, but Karl had already begun to move.
In his mind, his plan unfolded clearly.
Walder Frey's castle hid secrets—too many for comfort. Karl intended to uncover them before dawn. Information was a sharper weapon than any sword. And if war truly was coming, he needed intel, certainty, and leverage.
He slipped into the shadowed corridor, cloak fluttering behind him like a dark whisper. The dim torchlight danced across his figure, then swallowed him whole.
Tonight, Karl would become the unseen predator in Walder Frey's den.
And by morning, he swore—someone would talk.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)