Upon entering the inn again and lifted his gaze to take in his surroundings, Kal immediately noticed something beyond the usual bustling, feverish atmosphere—there were now over a dozen women here who hadn't been present before.
Their revealing outfits left little to the imagination, and the way they hungrily eyed the soldiers around them made Kal raise an eyebrow. It didn't take long for him to realize exactly what kind of work these women did.
This inn, after all, was just a day's ride from King's Landing—and that was only because the royal procession was moving at a slower pace than usual.
Given its location and proximity to such a major thoroughfare, it was only natural for professionals of this… particular trade to settle in.
But it wasn't just the women who caught Kal's eye. Over in the corner of the inn, two bards had set up as well, clutching their instruments and chatting cheerfully with the women—though whatever they were saying was anyone's guess.
'Looks like Robert's little journey has opened up all kinds of business opportunities for the locals,' Kal thought, then casually withdrew his gaze and stepped into an unremarkable corner of the inn to sit down.
Of course, his arrival—and the way he'd been eyeing the place—didn't go unnoticed.
Compared to the knights decked out in crimson embroidery and golden trim, Kal's armor was far more subdued. The once-silvery metal was dulled now, its surface marred with visible scuffs and wear. One glance told you he wasn't a man of wealth.
On any other day, someone like Kal might've stood out as the most eligible customer in the room. But today? Clearly not.
"Hey, pal—what's on the menu?"
The moment he sat down, Kal removed his helmet and unbuckled the longsword from his waist, placing it within easy reach.
Just then, he swiftly reached out and snatched a chubby kid who had been rushing past him.
The poor boy—busy to the point his heels were nearly kicking his own backside—suddenly felt like he'd been seized by a giant's hand. He froze in place, utterly unable to move.
Startled, the boy whipped his head toward the source of the voice.
"S-Sir Knight… we've got plenty of food ready. What would you like?"
Once he got a good look at Kal's face—and realized the knight wasn't trying to cause trouble—the pudgy lad calmed down right away. He took a deep breath to steady himself, trying not to sound so out of breath when he spoke.
Hearing how the boy addressed him, Kal gave a small smile.
"I'm not a knight," he said. "Could you tell me more about what you have? A proper rundown, if you don't mind."
The chubby kid stroked his chin thoughtfully.
He didn't seem to care about Kal's humility, or whether he had used the wrong title. After all, he had plenty of experience dealing with travelers. As far as he was concerned, anyone with a sword at their waist liked being called a knight—whether they were one or not.
His eyes shifted upward as he mentally retraced everything his father had prepared for today's big business.
"Hmm, we've got crispy hot bread, fried bread, onion-and-cheese pie, and hardtack—fresh from the oven!"
"As for the dishes: honey-garlic stewed snails, roast suckling pig, baked trout, creamy quail, and a few others."
"Maybe you'd like some mushroom and butter snail soup? Or oxtail soup? They're both freshly cooked—ingredients are all nice and fresh!"
"Oh, and we've got wine too—red wine and ale. You should try some! The red's a Summer Red straight from Dorne!"
As the little guy rattled off dishes like a food vendor calling out orders, cheeks flushed and eyes bright, Kal couldn't help but light up himself.
Honestly, with a spread like that, it wasn't just impressive for an inn—it would've put many city taverns to shame on a good day.
And from the sound of it, this had all been planned well in advance.
No wonder this innkeeper runs such a big place, Kal mused silently.
He wasn't exactly surprised by how thoroughly prepared the inn was. The map Varys had given him already hinted at plenty.
Whether Petyr Baelish had a hand in this too was another question—though as Master of Coin, it certainly wouldn't be out of character for him to squeeze every drop of gold out of the king's travels.
"I'll have a mug of ale, the baked trout, creamy quail, and some hardtack," Kal said at last. "And for the soup—bring the mushroom and butter snail. Though tell me—are you sure you lot didn't send an army to wipe out a whole kingdom of snails?"
He finished with a chuckle, a joke at the absurd number of snail dishes on offer. The owner might be short on fine meats, but snails? Enough to throw a banquet for their entire species.
Truth be told, Kal rather liked snails. Their meat had a nice chew to it.
"Of course, sir! One moment!"
As soon as Kal placed his order, the pudgy lad gave a quick nod, gathered himself, and dashed into the kitchen like a gust of wind. Moments later, Kal could hear his voice calling out the order from behind the door.
Before long, the chubby boy returned, first bringing the mug of ale Kal had ordered.
"Hm. Barely watered down for once."
Kal lifted the horn mug and took a long, deep swig—more like someone quenching thirst with water than drinking beer.
Wiping the foam from the corner of his mouth, he let out a rare word of praise, clearly satisfied.
In that sense, he had the king to thank for this unexpected bit of luxury.
After that refreshing gulp, his food arrived in short order—clearly, they'd been prepared in advance. This time, though, it wasn't the pudgy kid bringing them out. The main dishes, including the snail soup, were carried over by a woman.
She had chestnut-red hair, tied back behind her shoulders, and wore a half-apron around her waist. Her features were youthful and not unpleasant to look at.
After placing the plates on the table, she shot Kal a playful wink.
The innkeeper clearly didn't let any hired help go to waste. Besides their 'main line of work', the women also doubled as serving staff when needed.
Kal wasn't surprised to see her. While his armor was far plainer than the soldiers' gilded gear, he'd placed a generous order—clearly not short on coin.
And no one ever resents copper when it's handed freely.
Plus, once Kal had taken off his helmet and settled in, he'd certainly felt the weight of all those gazes drifting his way.
He wouldn't claim it often, but—truth be told—he wasn't half bad to look at.
So, when the woman's eyes all but devoured him, Kal gave a polite, crooked smile… then casually reached out and gave her rear a light pat. A playful little tip for the service.
"My name's Melinda," the woman said with a bright grin, unfazed by his touch. "I'm guessing Bill forgot to mention we've got some other specialties, handsome knight."
Melinda didn't leave right away. Instead, she set the last plate down, then untied her apron and spun around, perching herself right atop the edge of Kal's table. Her posture—deliberate, practiced—made sure her assets were displayed to full effect.
Kal raised a brow at the generous curves now looming above his meal. With an amused smirk, he let his hand rest on her thigh.
A squeeze. Firm skin. Good bounce.
Glancing from the food to the woman, Kal figured he had a decent appetite tonight.
"If it comes to it," he said with a smirk, "I think I'll be craving a little midnight snack later."
"But first," he added, shifting his gaze to the dishes before him, "I've got to stuff all this into a stomach that's been grumbling at me for hours. Working for the king isn't quite the same as guarding some merchant's wagon, after all."
Hearing Kal's words, the woman's gaze drifted from his face to the food on the table.
Her eyes grew softer, sultrier, and she slowly reached out, letting her fingertips trail lightly across the back of the hand he had resting on her thigh.
"I'll be waiting for you," she whispered. Her lips, full and red, curled into a teasing smile—and as she spoke, a small, mischievous tongue slipped out to trace a slow circle around her mouth.
That voice, drenched in honeyed seduction, felt almost wetter than the soup on his table—and Kal was fairly certain he was harder than the bread beside it.
But just as the two of them seemed to have come to a silent agreement, a voice broke through beside them, jarringly out of place.
"Pardon the interruption, but before you serve this guy dinner—mind if I have a taste first?"