As for Barristan, of course he had heard the stories about this bastard knight. Naturally, he knew what Kal Stone had done.
After all, when Barristan had led troops to the Riverlands to assist the king, his departure had left King's Landing defenseless—allowing Kevan Lannister to take advantage of the situation.
Though it hadn't exactly been his duty, the fact remained that he had taken a portion of the Red Keep's forces with him.
As a result, not only had King's Landing fallen, but he himself had been constrained by the threats of the soon-arriving Tywin Lannister.
Unable to protect both fronts, he had found himself in an extremely awkward position.
Fortunately, before the situation could reach an unbearable point, Kal had appeared.
Although Kal's actions had not been meant to assist him, nor were they directly related, what Kal had done had nonetheless helped him—relieving the pressure he had faced.
As for Kal himself—
The king had been right. Kal was a hero. He had not only ended the war between the Iron Throne and the Lannisters but had also saved countless lives.
He was, beyond dispute, a true knight.
Thus, to this bastard son, Barristan Selmy felt nothing but goodwill.
"I share your view, Ser Barristan," Varys chimed in with a nod.
Being so openly acknowledged by Barristan left Kal momentarily at a loss for words.
To be honest, he had never thought much about Barristan before—
Nor had he expected that their first real interaction would unfold in this way.
But in the face of another's praise, Kal could only accept it with composure.
"Thank you for your recognition, Ser Barristan Selmy. The honor is mine."
Then, looking at the old man before him—dressed in white cloak and armor, ever ready for battle—Kal suddenly thought of something.
Feigning casual curiosity, he asked, "But I recall that you were escorting the king through the city, weren't you? Was it the Hand of the King who summoned you here?"
Of course, Kal's phrasing—"escorting the king"—was deliberately flattering. He knew perfectly well where Robert was.
Noticing Kal's question, Barristan paused for a moment before understanding his intent.
He didn't think much of it and merely smiled. "I've been attending to His Grace for over a day, so Ser Arys Oakheart and Ser Preston Greenfield are taking my place for now. They are currently guarding the king."
"Just as I returned to the White Sword Tower, the royal steward came to inform me that the Hand of the King had called a Small Council meeting."
Barristan assumed Kal was simply worried about his father, so he offered the explanation lightly.
Only then did Kal realize—the old knight had been on duty for too long and was now taking a much-needed rest.
But just as Kal was turning over in his mind how best to exchange a few more courteous words with this legendary knight, hurried footsteps sounded from outside the door, drawing rapidly closer.
All three stopped talking at once and turned their heads toward the door.
A moment later, a man wearing a silk tunic, his face marked by exhaustion he could no longer hide—looking as though he had aged several years overnight—strode into the room. It was Lord Eddard Stark.
At once, Barristan and Varys rose to their feet.
As for Kal, he had already been standing, so he merely turned to face him.
Seeing the three before him stand in greeting, Eddard Stark quickly waved his hand, motioning for them not to mind.
Still, he paused for a moment, his gaze unconsciously sweeping over the long table before him, a faint emotion flickering across his expression.
After all, this was the first time in his life he was convening a Small Council meeting as the Hand of the King.
Once, this duty had belonged to Jon Arryn. Now it was he who stood here.
But there is a first time for everything. Forcing down his brief surge of emotion, he shifted the heavy ledger in his hand to the other arm.
Hand of the King Eddard Stark adjusted his breathing, then managed a faint smile.
"Please, everyone, be at ease. I'm sorry for calling you here on such short notice, but there is a matter of importance that requires the counsel of the king's ministers."
Centering himself, Eddard immediately slipped into his role.
"So let us begin the meeting."
With that, Lord Stark found his seat and sat down first.
Hearing his words and watching his movements, Varys and Ser Barristan Selmy both hesitated for a brief instant—but the expression passed quickly, and they too took their seats.
Kal, however, remained standing where he was.
Because there was no seat prepared for him here.
Of the four present, three were seated, one was not.
Naturally, the one still standing appeared strikingly out of place.
Almost instinctively, the others' gazes fell upon Kal Stone—tall and broad-shouldered, standing there like a wall, his presence filling the chamber.
Only then did Eddard remember what he had meant to do.
"Oh—my apologies, Ser Kal. There's something I forgot to tell you. I only just received the news myself."
"Gods, these past days have been overwhelming. I didn't expect the work to pile up like this—I've already cut my sleep down to four hours a night."
Eddard Stark rubbed his brow in fatigue as he offered the explanation to Kal, muttering the last curse under his breath.
As he spoke, Eddard lowered his hand, placed the heavy ledger he had brought onto the wooden table, and opened it.
Inside was a small sheet of parchment, covered with writing.
And as for Kal—who had personally handed off all of these accumulated affairs to the Hand of the King some time ago—he naturally understood why the poor Lord Eddard was so overworked.
So he could only give an awkward smile.
Yet soon after, he grew puzzled by what Eddard had just said.
"My lord Stark, you summoned me to attend the Small Council—was there something you wished to ask of me?"
"If it concerns matters of King's Landing's administration from before, you could always summon me when you have a bit more time. I'm… I'm available whenever you need."
A rare flicker of conscience crossed Kal Stone's heart.
But clearly Eddard failed to notice it. He merely took the letter that had been tucked inside the ledger, placed it upon the table, and slid it toward Kal.
"This is the appointment His Grace gave me yesterday—concerning you, Ser Kal—after I finished reporting my work to him."
At the mention of that report, the corner of Eddard's brow twitched uncontrollably.
After the banquet had ended and King Robert finally awakened from his drunken stupor, the first thing he had wanted to do was go to the place that had been on his mind all along.
But just as he was about to leave, he had been stopped by Eddard Stark, who had come to discuss certain matters with him.
After answering a few questions about the upcoming tournament, Robert grew impatient.
Then, as if struck by sudden inspiration, he had grabbed a quill from nearby, scribbled something on the parchment, handed the note to his Hand—and promptly left the Red Keep with his Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Barristan Selmy, in tow.
Yes—by the time Eddard received the royal decree and decided to deal with a few minor affairs before bringing it up—
It was already the next day.
Gods damn it!
"My appointment?"
Seeing the weary, almost resentful expression of the Hand as he pushed the letter toward him, Kal picked up the small piece of parchment with a puzzled look.
Varys watched with his usual smile, as though fully aware of what was written there.
And as for Ser Barristan Selmy, who had been with the king that day, he knew exactly what the royal decree contained.
So when Kal finally read the contents for himself, what greeted him was pure shock—his eyes wide open in disbelief.
"What? Me—the Master of Coin?"
Upon seeing the few short lines on that sheet of paper, Kal felt a chill pierce through his heart despite the blazing summer heat of King's Landing.
When it came to the Iron Throne's current financial situation, there was probably no one who understood it better than he did.
Not to mention that even in his previous life, he had already known just how prodigal Robert could be.
In just the short period since he had taken over the administrative affairs of King's Landing, he had come to realize how utterly empty the royal treasury was.
Even a rat that crept inside would have to leave some food uneaten just to have something to nibble on later—then crawl out again with tears in its eyes.
Put simply, although Petyr Baelish was an ambitious man well-versed in intrigue, one couldn't overlook his personal competence merely because of the more sensational events surrounding him.
He had indeed been born into a minor, powerless house, and most of his life's efforts had been devoted to elevating his humble status.
After the blows he suffered from Catelyn and Brandon Stark, he began to crave power and position, yearning to become a great man.
In the realm of schemes and plots, he was an unrivaled master.
And when it came to money and trade, he possessed an innate gift.
Yet even a man like that, upon becoming Master of Coin, found himself forced to live by borrowing, overwhelmed by Robert's extravagance and spending habits.
Still, after reaching that post, he used the resources at his disposal to flexibly wield his wealth and influence, winning himself numerous allies and channels of power.
And precisely because of that, it showed just how exceptional his economic acumen truly was—
Especially in such a world where productivity lagged so far behind.
Unfortunately, greater than his intellect was his ambition.
Kal dared neither to employ him nor to keep such an unpredictable explosive at his side, and thus had no choice but to eliminate him.
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