"In my view, this isn't something to worry about."
"Back then, Balon Greyjoy dared to openly launch a rebellion when House Baratheon overthrew the Targaryen dynasty—how is the situation now any different from back then?"
"You should still remember when the ironborn set Lannisport ablaze, shouldn't you?"
Kal stopped beating around the bush and stated bluntly what he thought of Balon Greyjoy.
At Kal's speculation, the clever Tyrion could not help but feel a bit uneasy.
But since it had not happened, everything was only Kal's guess, and, most importantly, the current situation was still different from back then.
"Of course I remember the war at Lannisport. I was already sixteen at the time."
"Back then, I even wanted to imitate my uncles and visit the Nine Free Cities, but in the end my father refused, saying that doing so would bring shame upon the family—and in the end I was ordered to clean out every ditch and drain within Casterly Rock."
Speaking of this, Tyrion recalled the dream he had that year, and he could not help but let out two bitter chuckles.
But jokes were fine in moderation. When he thought of Balon Greyjoy, Tyrion still put away his smile and returned to the topic in earnest.
"In that war, Balon Greyjoy lost his eldest son Rodrik and his second son Maron. His third son, Theon, was taken as a hostage by Lord Eddard Stark and has been kept at Winterfell ever since."
"That should make him more cautious."
But as he spoke, his tone inevitably sank much lower.
Thinking of that Greyjoy boy he had seen at Winterfell, Tyrion thought that if King Balon of Pyke truly still had rebellion on his mind, then that brat with nothing but women in his head might not be able to serve as a tether for Balon Greyjoy at all.
That made Tyrion's expression grow heavy as well.
Seeing Tyrion's tone soften, Kal knew that the clever dwarf had clearly realized something as well.
He tapped his finger on the tabletop, his gaze sweeping over the stack of letter paper.
"So I'm thinking— is there any way to probe them?"
"If he can take the initiative and jump out on his own, it'll make things a lot easier for me."
Hearing King Kal's scheming words, Tyrion could not help but twitch the corner of his mouth.
How was this any different from a whore going to seduce a customer?
"We don't have enough strength. We can't afford this kind of upheaval anymore—what if—"
After thinking over Kal's idea, Tyrion was not optimistic about it.
With a solemn expression, he continued, "Right now, the situation is that House Tyrell has chosen to support Renly Baratheon, giving him ambitions he should not have."
"And Stannis Baratheon, because of stubborn reasons and prejudice, is not pleased about you inheriting the Iron Throne."
"In this situation, let alone the entire House Baratheon, you won't get the support you ought to have."
"Besides, the current situation in the Westerlands is not ideal either, and the Riverlands has only just gone through a war—if chaos breaks out again, then even trying to get support from the Vale and the North won't be so easy."
As Tyrion spoke, he even paused instinctively.
It would have been better not to say it—once he did, he grew more and more alarmed the more he spoke.
And as he kept talking, he instead came to agree more and more with Kal's concern about the Iron Islands.
That made him let out a helpless, bitter smile.
"Kal, perhaps you're right—the Iron Islands are something we have to guard against as well."
Kal did not mind Tyrion changing his mind.
He stroked his chin and, after two seconds of thought, said, "That's why I've been troubled about the fleet all this time. If we want to build a fleet out of thin air, don't even think about having real combat power without five or six years."
"Money is secondary. I'm not worried about that problem, but time is what I lack most right now."
"Especially when my uncle Stannis Baratheon, the Master of Ships of the realm, has already openly stated his opposition to me."
"So right now, I'm a bit at a loss as to where to break this deadlock," Kal said, letting out a soft sigh. "Robert died too early. I simply didn't have time to develop according to my original plan."
As Kal poured out his grievances, Tyrion could only scratch his head.
Then the two of them fell silent like that.
After a while, Tyrion finally raised his head to look at Kal and reached up to scratch at his scalp. "Kal, if you're not confident—"
Tyrion looked like he wanted to say something, but he was hemming and hawing.
"What are you trying to say?" Kal turned his head.
Faced with Kal's question, and thinking of the environment they were in now, Tyrion gritted his teeth and still decided to say it.
"If you're not confident, then why don't you give up the throne? Or rather, we can stall for the time being and keep this right—"
Tyrion said this with some difficulty, but thinking of the situation before them, he still forced the words out.
The look he gave Kal also became especially serious.
"Stannis has only one daughter, and she's come down with greyscale. Shireen Baratheon may not even have a chance to grow up under this illness."
"As for Renly— I think you know his situation just as well as I do."
"So if it's only a few years, it's not as if we can't afford to wait it out."
"And if we keep silent for now, Stannis and Renly definitely won't sit still either. Waiting may be our best choice."
However, in response to Tyrion's negative suggestion, Kal neither nodded nor shook his head. He only looked at him with calm eyes. "You mean I should put mercy and weapons into other people's hands?"
"Of course that's not what I mean,"
Tyrion could not quite grasp Kal's true thoughts, so he could only continue frankly: "But a delaying tactic is the most advantageous for us right now, and it's also the choice with the least loss."
"Once we rashly start a war again, with what we have now, we definitely won't be able to face several enemies at the same time. Your concern about the Iron Islands isn't without reason—we also have no way to deal with a fleet at sea."
"And another thing is that our army is only a few thousand men right now, and they're all freshly absorbed from the former Westerlands army. We haven't had time to establish logistics and supplies, either—everything is a complete mess."
"If chaos breaks out at a time like this, then it'll be even harder for you to bring the Westerlands to heel."
"You should think clearly about what matters most right now. Just like you said, we can't go fantasizing about swallowing a whole fat man in one bite."
After sorting out his thoughts, Tyrion gave Kal the safest advice—truly earnest and well-intentioned.
But at his words, Kal only let out a long, easy smile.
"Do you remember House Kal's motto?"
Tyrion's brows knit slightly. "Of course—."
"Thought! Sword! Truth!"
Kal said slowly.
Saying this for no particular reason, Kal rose from his stool and walked to the window.
Tyrion did not understand why, but he jumped down from the stool and followed.
Looking out the window, a golden dragon, about the size of a bull, was snatching a large fish from the sea. With a roar, it circled excitedly over the surface.
Next, after the dragon blasted the poor fish with a single breath, the charred, crisp fish was tossed high into the air, and a gaping maw bit down and crushed it to pieces.
Watching Robert's display, Kal continued, "Tyrion, to me, these three things are all weapons, whether against internal enemies or external ones."
"Thought leads the sword. The sword wins truth. And as for truth, it is thought."
"I don't think I've ever called myself Kal Baratheon. Perhaps all along, my idea has been to rely on myself, so I believe I'm not lacking in courage."
"If soldiers come, we block them; if water comes, we dam it."
"Since my uncles not only refuse to submit to me, but actually dare to wage war against me?"
"When an excuse is delivered to our door, why should we refuse it because of that?"
Staring at Robert hunting over the sea, the smile on Kal's face looked bright as sunlight.
After saying this, he turned his head to look at Tyrion.
"So if I choose to press on in one push and take the Reach, and first eliminate Renly, who's so addle-brained that he's followed others into rebellion, then do you think the problems we'll face next will still be as great as they are now?"
Now Tyrion understood what Kal meant.
But he could not help but shake his head with a bitter smile.
He should not have forgotten that Kal standing in front of him was still a young man not yet twenty.
He had the hot blood and courage that someone his age ought to have.
Backing down did not seem to suit a young man like that.
But the cold water that needed to be poured, he still had to pour.
"If you do that, then congratulations—you've chosen the strongest enemy."
"The forces and supplies the South can mobilize are the strongest in the Seven Kingdoms. Are you prepared to have your few thousand men face an enemy ten times their number?"
"Kal, even if you've already brought the entire Westerlands to heel, we still have to face one miserable fact: the Lannisters were the losing side in the war against the Iron Throne."
"The Westerlands can't scrape together much of an army for you anymore."
Tyrion began to lay out the facts and reason with him, trying to dispel Kal's unrealistic ideas.
But how could Kal stop there?
"If war depended only on paper strength, then from ancient times to the present there wouldn't be so much bloodshed, because everyone would only need to sit down and put their family's assets on the negotiating table, and the outcome would be decided."
"Besides, how can you be so sure that the entire South, the Reach, is of one heart with House Tyrell and with Renly?"
"Maybe House Tyrell already regrets that they put their bet on Renly Baratheon so early at the gambling table."
"Perhaps they're already troubled about how to end this embarrassing situation."
Kal's tone was not dejected—on the contrary, it was confident and high-spirited.
"Either they become my enemy completely and make Renly Baratheon the final victor, so that they can guarantee they win back the chips they put on the table, and at the same time eat until their mouths are dripping with grease."
"Or, while they're still wavering, I step forward forcefully and let them see that I, Kal El, am also a quality stock—an option with better odds."
"My idea is that before the dice cup is fully lifted, I make House Tyrell and the entire Reach see that I'm worth investing in, worth their hope, worth them placing their bet again."
"It's just that before that, we need a tiny bit of forcefulness, that's all. If we spill a little blood now, it might make the blood that needs to be spilled later a lot less."
Tyrion did not understand why Kal, at such a young age, could see the development of worldly affairs so clearly.
Or rather, the accurate description was that he had an extremely frightening understanding of people's hearts, and of human nature.
Faced with Kal's approach of seeking wealth amid danger and using a small stake to win big, he could only say it was taking an unconventional sword-path.
Because if things really went the way Kal said, then it truly would be gambling.
If he won, then of course it would be easy to talk about. Tyrion did not even need to say it—he knew that under these circumstances, Kal could be said to have already laid the foundation for victory.
When the time came, even if Stannis talked until flowers bloomed, he would still have to lower his head obediently and admit his fault to Kal.
Across the Seven Kingdoms, even the Iron Islands—unless someone's brain had gone stupid—would not choose to keep making an enemy of Kal in that situation.
But if Kal lost…
Tyrion gave a bitter smile.
To fall before victory was won and die before one's time—no matter whether the winner was Renly or Stannis, neither of them would ever allow Kal to still have a chance.
Everything Kal had gained now would inevitably be stripped away. With an excuse like that, perhaps Kal's best choice at that time would be, like his father Tywin, to don black and go to the Wall to become a man of the Night's Watch.
Indeed, bastards and the Night's Watch always matched so well.
"Your courage is immense, Kal. I don't even know how to refute you, because I truly see hope in your idea."
As Tyrion spoke, he turned his head to look at the fish that had been bitten apart after being burned pitch-black. After it circled twice more in the sky, he keenly spotted Robert.
A dragon with a growth rate beyond imagination—this was Kal's real trump card.
"Today, a hundred years after dragons vanished, perhaps it truly is the most persuasive thing."
"But Kal, don't forget that those people may not actually want to see such absolute force soaring in the sky again."
"There's no difference between that and placing a sharp longsword at their throats."
"Kal, no one can guarantee that even if you gain their support, they will definitely be your steadfast supporters—allies who will never betray you."
"Those with ulterior motives hiding in the dark are far, far more terrifying than enemies in the open. That's also one of the reasons I wanted you to keep a low profile and lie low—"
"All you need is five years, or even three. As long as Robert grows a little more, and your family foundation becomes a little deeper, then it will truly be secure for you to seek victory."
The little giant's thinking was indeed thorough. He saw the good side, and he also saw the bad side.
And when it came to people's hearts and human nature, he understood them no less than Kal did.
It had to be said that Tyrion's words were well-founded, and it could even be said that the advice he gave Kal was what was truly useful and practical for Kal at this stage.
What did Kal lack right now?
Money? Force? Or allies?
No, none of those.
What Kal lacked was time—time that truly belonged to him, time to turn everything before him into real strength of his own.
Right now, what Kal most should not have was a lone surge of courage—rashly throwing himself into the game of power on the strength of so-called courage and hot blood.
"I know what you mean, Tyrion—. How could I not want to make things easier for myself? What do you think I've been agonizing over these past few days?"
Feeling Tyrion's sincerity and earnest persuasion, Kal shook his head.
He raised his hand, sensing the increasingly dense magical particles in the air.
"But time isn't on my side. I have to make a choice now!"
"Draft my letters for me—declare war on Renly and on House Tyrell!"
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