"Why?!"
Tyrion was truly confused. The Kal-El he knew wasn't the kind of person who was this self-serving and reckless.
In response to Tyrion's question, Kal suddenly asked, "How long was this summer?"
Tyrion didn't understand the connection between the two, but after thinking for a moment, he answered Kal's question.
"If I remember correctly, it was about ten years."
"Are you perhaps worried about winter?"
The clever dwarf realized something after just a bit of thought. He voiced Kal's only concern related to the seasons.
But Tyrion still furrowed his brows slightly, not understanding why Kal would care about that, or why it even caused him to lose patience.
In his view, if winter truly came now, it would be a great opportunity for Kal.
At that time, Kal would have the chance to grow quickly by utilizing the winter, and it would reduce the risk of war.
Though winter was always difficult, it wasn't without its advantages, was it?
Kal seemed to sense Tyrion's thoughts. He shook his head, his tone becoming unexpectedly deep.
"I'm not worried about winter. I'm worried about what's behind winter."
"Tyrion, you may not believe this, but if you're willing to believe me, I'll tell you—long night is coming!"
"Long night is coming?"
Tyrion was even more confused.
He desperately tried to make sense of the phrase "long night" in his mind, and the only answer he found was a myth.
It was a story that everyone in the known world shared—a tale about a period of terrifying darkness and cold winter that had engulfed the world.
It was said that eight thousand years before Aegon landed, during the Heroic Age, a long, bitter winter that lasted an entire generation descended, bringing endless darkness, famine, and fear.
The world was frozen, and the sun never rose. People grew up in winter, and they died in winter, never seeing spring arrive.
No one, from the kings in their castles to the lowest of slaves, could escape—everyone froze to death in that long winter.
A mother killed her children so that they would not be born to suffer.
They wailed aloud, yet the tears froze and stopped upon their cheeks.
Then, amid such cold and darkness, the Others descended upon the world of men.
They loathed light and warmth. Riding enormous ice spiders and reanimated dead horses, they came from the far north, wielding blades of ice as thin as razors, slaughtering every living being before them.
They raised the dead to fight for them. No army could resist them, and the survival of humankind hung by a thread.
Later, in the stories of all the races, a hero appeared and delivered the world from this disaster.
All of the above were the tales of the Long Night that Tyrion had read in books. It was during this period that the Night's Watch was founded.
Brandon the Builder used ice, stone, and magic to raise a Wall stretching one hundred leagues, from the Gorge to the Shivering Sea, to resist a renewed invasion by the Others, and thus became the first King in the North.
But Tyrion had also seen a different view in certain books from the Citadel. The maesters believed that the story of the Long Night was far too absurd, as argued in a work titled The Lies of the Ancients, written by a maester named Fomas.
In it, he stated that the so-called Others were in fact a tribe of the First Men, the ancestors of today's wildlings.
When the Long Night fell, they were forced to migrate south, which in turn sparked a chain of wars.
He believed that the brutality attributed to these "Others" was fabricated by House Stark and the Night's Watch, merely to exaggerate their historical role, to cast themselves as the saviors of mankind, and to conceal the fact that they had profited from a struggle over territory.
In the stories, the wildlings gradually became monsters, because the Night's Watch and House Stark sought to fashion for themselves the heroic image of humanity's saviors.
For, according to the tales, aside from this first "Long Night," there was also a second "Long Night."
Legend held that the thirteenth Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, the Night King, fell in love with a woman "whose skin was pale as the moon, whose eyes were like blue stars, and whose flesh was cold as ice."
He later proclaimed himself king, and after ruling for thirteen years, he was overthrown by the King in the North, who joined forces with Joramun, King-Beyond-the-Wall.
Of course, this latter story was something Tyrion had read while imprisoned at Winterfell, passing the time by gathering and reading books in the maester's tower there.
There wasn't much to it—just a story that was not too long.
But when Kal mentioned the term "Long Night," Tyrion recalled it as well.
However, this was not a reason that could convince Tyrion.
"Sorry, Your Grace Kal, I don't mean to interrupt you, but this excuse of yours is truly—absurd."
Seeing Tyrion curl his lip, his face full of disbelief, Kal only smiled.
"It is indeed 'absurd,' but Tyrion, in this world, there are many things that lie beyond our common sense and understanding."
"Before Robert reappeared in this world and soared across the skies, would you have believed that dragons truly existed?"
"Hadn't you only seen them in books, able only to imagine what they looked like?"
"I remember you even told me that when you were a child, you dreamed of dragons countless times—dreamed of riding on their backs and becoming a dragonrider?"
At Kal's teasing, Tyrion felt displeased.
"Dragons, of course, are real. They simply vanished into history. And dragons existed for only a short hundred years before they disappeared; the cellars beneath King's Landing are piled full of their bones."
"Yes—and how is the story of the Long Night any different?" Kal raised an eyebrow.
"Your Grace Kal, I don't have much time to sit here listening to you tell stories. These days I have endless things to do every day, just like a certain king, learning from his father, acting as a hands-off king."
Tyrion was speechless at Kal's sophistry. As he spoke, he also began to lose patience and wanted to turn and leave.
But Kal reached out and seized him.
Tyrion turned back in confusion and looked at Kal. Meeting Kal's gaze, he found that those deep blue eyes had become extremely serious.
"Tyrion, my friend, I am not joking."
"The Long Night is coming, and it is not a joke either."
"If we do not face it seriously, when the time comes, the ones who will curl up and freeze to death in the corners of castles will not be only the common folk inside and outside the city—among them will be you and me as well."
"In the cold and the night, the Others will kill everyone out of hatred for the living, and then toy with their bodies, their souls."
Looking at the utterly serious Kal, Tyrion could not help but rein in that small bit of anger in his heart.
"Kal, I'm not denying you. I just want you to hold war and life in awe. We have better ways to resolve the difficulties before us; we do not necessarily need to use the most radical approach."
"I can write letters for you—declaring war on the entire Reach, even on the Seven Kingdoms if you wish—but have you truly thought through the consequences and the price?"
"And this story, in truth, is not convincing."
Tyrion looked seriously at the young Kal before him. The young king he had chosen to support wore an earnest expression.
Whether as a friend or as a subject, he had to fulfill his responsibility.
Rather than indulging Kal and allowing him to act without restraint.
"After the long summer, the stars bleed."
"Tyrion, the blood of the stag flows in my body, but so does the blood of the dragon."
"Dragon blood grants me immunity to fire, the gift of riding dragons, and it also grants me the gift of prophecy."
"Before long, a red comet trailing a long tail—bright enough to light up nearly half the sky—will streak across the heavens, its light even stronger than the moon."
"If that day comes, I hope you will be my most steadfast supporter and follower."
Kal released his grip on Tyrion's hand as he spoke these words.
Faced with Kal's solemn conviction and firm oath, Tyrion fell silent. He could not help turning his head toward the window. A giant dragon circled several times over the sea, then, as if growing weary, flew back toward Casterly Rock.
"If everything you say is true, I will."
Though Tyrion appeared helpless, he still agreed.
Kal smiled.
"As for me, my enemies and rivals have never been those so-called nobles, nor my uncles who contend with me for the throne."
"If anything, I would even say that being only the Warden of the West, the lord of Casterly Rock, would be far better than ruling the Seven Kingdoms."
"Humanity's true enemy is gathering strength, preparing to return."
"Someone has already foreseen it, yet no one can stop it. Becoming king, preserving our strength, and reinforcing the living forces we already possess—those are the real keys, and the keys to whether we can survive this trial."
"So now, we must take this first step, even at risk."
Seeing that he had finally persuaded Tyrion, Kal made the decision on the spot: this war was officially set in motion.
As he spoke, he returned to the dining table and sat down again, arranging the few plates left from the meal into a rough sand table across the long table.
"After declaring war on the Reach, I will take one thousand men with me. The remaining five thousand will be entrusted to you and Jon to command."
"During this period, Jon needs to lead three thousand troops to garrison Lannisport, while you remain at Casterly Rock. With one thousand soldiers left to hold it, there will be no problem with the security here."
"The forces Jon stations at Lannisport, aside from holding the line and supporting me, will have an even more important role: guarding Lannisport itself, while maintaining sufficient response capability along three fronts—the Coastal Road, the Gold Road, and the River Road."
"On the one hand, this will guard against the Iron Islands' ambitions; on the other, it will protect and firmly control my supply lines."
Tyrion also walked back, lowered his head, and looked at the sand table Kal had arranged on the table, listening carefully to his strategic deployment.
He understood the latter points, but when it came to Kal saying he would take only one thousand men—
"One thousand men?"
Tyrion's eyes widened, his face full of disbelief.
Kal nodded.
"It's enough. With me there, no fortress or stronghold can stop me."
"Besides, I'm not going to carry out a massacre—just to teach a lesson to some people who are not very obedient and cannot see the situation clearly."
Tyrion understood what Kal meant.
"You're that certain the Tyrells will switch sides midway? If they do, it would be a tremendous blow to House Tyrell's reputation."
"Or are you planning to bring Robert with you? He hasn't fully grown yet—though if it's only for intimidation, he's already more than sufficient."
"Robert isn't coming with me. He must remain at Casterly Rock and Lannisport."
Kal shook his head at Tyrion's suggestion, then dragged another plate over and placed it in the upper corner.
"No. As long as I can display sufficient strength, if House Tyrell truly has intentions, they won't be foolish enough to act so bluntly."
"Smart people will always find themselves a suitable step to come down on."
"As for Robert—" Kal said this as he turned his head and glanced at the small golden dragon outside, already too large to squeeze through the window, beating its wings and letting out dissatisfied roars.
"He is my trump card against the Iron Islands."
"If the ironborn really come at this time, Robert will certainly be able to deal them a fatal blow. This is our sole advantage in terms of information."
As Kal spoke, he smiled slightly. After drawing his gaze back, he pointed at the plate representing the Iron Islands, then used a fork to stand in for the Iron Fleet.
"If possible, I want to use this opportunity to deliver a direct, crushing blow to the Iron Fleet and seize as many of those ships as we can."
"And once the Iron Islands are defeated and Robert's strength is fully revealed, that can then serve as the final straw to crush House Tyrell and make them turn completely to our side."
"One arrow, three targets."
"With the Reach's support, neither Renly nor Stannis will be anything to fear—unless Dorne also chooses to make an enemy of me."
Listening to Kal's explanation, Tyrion stared at the sand table, once again astonished by Kal's recklessness.
In his view, this could not even be called waging war. At the very least, war was not fought in this manner.
Kal seemed more like a gambler, a madman.
As far as the eye could see, everything was a case of using little to wager for much.
Yet he possessed an incomparable confidence, as if, once events unfolded, they would truly develop exactly as he envisioned.
Is this the power of prophecy? Tyrion could not help thinking this to himself. He raised his head to look at Kal, who was speaking at length, and his gaze subtly changed.
And just as he was forming words in his mind, thinking that it was time he said something, Kal continued without pause.
"Beyond what Jon's forces need to do, Tyrion, your task of holding Casterly Rock is equally important."
"I need you to organize a logistics network strong enough for me, and I also need you, while I am away, to probe exactly how many people in the Westerlands are truly willing to submit to me."
"If we can use this opportunity to lure out those who are wavering, or those who have long harbored ambitions, to step forward, that will certainly reduce many risks later on."
Kal laid out each arrangement with confidence, speaking clearly and comprehensively, with thorough consideration on all sides.
Tyrion could tell that Kal's thinking was clearly not something he had spoken offhand after merely running it through his mind once.
Yet he still could not help worrying. "Kal, isn't this too risky? Regardless of whether these ideas of yours can be realized, stretching the front lines so far, controlling things from afar, and tempting people's loyalties—if it fails to hold—"
"I am confident. That is precisely why I have chosen to take only one thousand men."
"If something happens in the rear, under such flexible conditions, I can return to provide support at once."
"And as I said earlier, regarding the war against the Reach, I only intend to apply pressure and conduct probing moves. I will not truly fight."
"At that time, my main focus will also be on the rear."
"If the outcome truly unfolds as I expect, then I can use this opportunity to completely consolidate the Westerlands. When that happens, whether in troops or supplies, with the support of these nobles, we will naturally be far stronger."
"Then, whether we continue the war against the Reach or turn our attention to the Iron Islands, we will have far greater confidence."
"Since we are worrying so timidly that these people harbor ulterior motives, why not beat them all once?"
"After they've been beaten and bled, they will naturally behave!"
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