As for the mysterious woman mentioned by Lord Roland Crakehall, Kal was genuinely curious.
After all, at a time like this, he truly could not think of any woman who could be described as mysterious even by one of the principal nobles of the Westerlands—the Lord of Crakehall himself.
Moreover, the other party had plainly stated that she wanted to see him, knew that he would come to Crakehall, and had even arrived ahead of time to intercept him.
Thus, after several rounds of speculation about the woman Lord Roland Crakehall referred to, Kal could think of only one woman.
Flame-like red was her symbol—mysterious, powerful, possessing the ability of prophecy, with a god standing behind her.
Melisandre, the Red Woman. Based on Lord Roland Crakehall's words, Kal could only guess that it was her.
She fit every impression Kal had of her.
And at a time like this, someone who would come to see him, accurately know where he was, and arrive in advance to wait for him—Kal could think of no one else.
If it really is her, then what does her coming to see me mean?
After choosing Stannis Baratheon, she couldn't possibly abandon him so cleanly, could she?
Could it be because I hatched a dragon, or because my appearance caused a deviation in the prophecy of the promised prince?
Has the Red God reassigned His chosen spokesman? Did Melisandre choose me?
If that's the case, it doesn't seem entirely unreasonable.
As the army took up residence in Crakehall, and while Lord Roland Crakehall led Kal alone to a secluded room to wait, Kal could not help but continue guessing who this mysterious woman truly was.
After thinking it over again and again, he felt that Melisandre unexpectedly fit the role.
And with his current abilities, he was indeed fully capable of fulfilling the image of some so-called prophesied hero or prince.
If it were Melisandre coming to seek refuge with him at this time, it was not without reason.
But even while considering the favorable side, Kal would not simply forget the other side that was unfavorable to him.
He frowned in thought, his fingers unconsciously tapping against the armrest of the chair.
If the mysterious woman really is Melisandre, and Melisandre has not abandoned Stannis, and at the same time has realized the threat I pose—
Then she is very likely here to assassinate me.
At present, she would naturally assume that I do not know her. Approaching me in this way to get close and achieve her objective does not seem impossible either.
Tch—what a truly difficult choice, Kal thought, a fleeting trace of heaviness passing between his brows.
Immediately afterward, several faint glimmers of light softly lit up within the secluded room.
In order to deal with the dangers and the strange, arcane-side combat that might occur next, Kal, in an instant, applied every contentious buff he could place on himself, while also recalling the shadow magic Melisandre had displayed in the original work.
Kal quietly activated his Weapon Enchantment skill as well.
Then, agility potions, stone-skin potions, strength potions, energy potions, magic potions, and even vampire potions—Kal pushed them all directly to the highest tier.
After a moment's thought, Kal removed the armor that Tobho Mott had forged for him and changed into the dragon armor he had made himself.
Fully armed and prepared in every respect, Kal steadied his mind and silently waited for the arrival of the visitor.
A knock sounded at the door. Kal lifted his brows slightly and said softly, "Come in."
With a creak, the sound of wood scraping echoed as the door opened, and a hooded woman—indeed appearing mysterious—pushed the door open and entered.
She did not speak, only quietly closed the door, bolted it from the inside, and then turned and walked over to Kal.
"Who are you?"
As he looked at the newcomer, Kal was already prepared to counterattack from the shadows.
But the instant the visitor lifted the hood from her head, Kal froze in place.
Looking at that familiar soft brown curly hair, those brown eyes, the gracefully contoured figure, and the beautiful face—
Kal racked his brain and still could not have imagined that the so-called mysterious woman mentioned by Lord Roland Crakehall would be her.
"Margaery Tyrell?!" Kal exclaimed in shock.
After seeing clearly who it was, Kal felt some regret about having given Lord Roland Crakehall an opportunity earlier outside the city.
At the time, he should have been more forceful and taken that old bastard down directly on the charge of treason, then smoothly brought Crakehall under his control—would that not have been perfect?!
Otherwise, how could something as infuriating as this have arisen now?
But since things had already happened, the blame lay only with his excessive kindness and lack of ruthlessness.
Kal looked at the woman before him—no, it would be more accurate to say the girl—his mind full of silent complaints, inwardly cursing himself for having been curious and merciful in the first place.
The girl in front of him was none other than the one known as the "Little Rose," Margaery Tyrell, the Rose of Highgarden.
She was not Melisandre at all, as he had guessed.
Lifting her hood, Margaery smiled brightly at Kal, still dazzlingly beautiful as ever.
"I came for love!!"
Looking at the man who had stood up straight from his chair in shock upon seeing it was her, Margaery Tyrell parted her red lips, striking without any prelude at all.
With no warning whatsoever, she delivered Kal a direct, head-on bombshell.
It hit him so hard that his mind went numb.
"You—what did you say?"
Kal felt that he must have heard wrong and immediately decided to ask again.
Hearing Kal's shameless question, Margaery Tyrell's pretty face flushed red. She said nothing, instead lowering her head and diving straight into Kal's arms.
Faced with this scene of her throwing herself at him, Kal remained dumbfounded. This was a problem he truly did not know how to deal with.
It was not that he did not know what to do—but that he did not know how to solve it.
Damn it—no one ever said Margaery Tyrell was this bold.
What is this supposed to be?
Faced with the Little Rose who had suddenly declared she came for love and then thrown herself into his arms, Kal was completely numb, his mind exploding with complaints.
"Your Majesty~"
That soft, alluring voice squeezed out from Kal's chest, sending a shiver like an electric current through him.
His whole body went weak.
But before Kal could think about what to say—or what to do—a soft, moist red pressed against his lips.
That playful little snake kept trying to challenge the obstacle before her.
Faced with the sudden assault, Kal's eyes widened.
His hands instinctively slid under Margaery's arms, and with a lift, he hoisted her upward.
Without any warning at all, he directly flung away Margaery Tyrell, who had been pressed against his mouth and attacking him with her tongue.
Fortunately, at the last moment he still retained some restraint. As he threw Margaery aside, his hands eased their strength.
With a deft application of force, he supported her body and ultimately redirected her landing point to the bed not far away.
And just as Margaery, who had only just found herself swept up in that irresistible masculine presence, felt her legs go weak, in the very next instant she felt herself lifted into the air.
An involuntary cry escaped her, and in the next instant she slammed heavily into the soft down-filled bed.
Opening her eyes, Margaery finally realized what had just happened.
She first looked at the man before her in disbelief, then touched herself—where he had thrown her onto the bed—and the mattress beneath her.
Feeling the softness of the bedding, Margaery seemed to think of something, and an even deeper flush spread across her already rosy face.
Then she lightly bit her lower lip, slowly closed her eyes, and simply lay there on the covers, adopting an air of yielding herself to him.
However, Kal did not have nearly so many thoughts at this moment.
He instinctively licked the trace of sweetness left on his lips, then reached up and touched them, only then confirming that he had indeed just been forcibly kissed by the Rose of Highgarden.
Looking at Margaery Tyrell—who, after being thrown aside by him, was now even striking a posture that practically said "come on, don't treat me like a person"—Kal began to doubt whether he was dreaming.
He then lowered his hand and forcibly redirected his own body's reaction, suppressing its protests before he could barely calm himself down.
During this period, although Kal had remained quite restrained, in reality he had never lacked women.
So for Kal, a sudden attack like Margaery's naturally could not topple him.
Moreover, the most important point was that he was not a man driven by lust or hunger.
At a time when he had already declared war on the Tyrell family of the Reach, faced with Margaery's sudden—and even deliberately secretive—throwing herself into his arms, it was impossible for him not to harbor suspicions.
Feeling the lingering sweetness on his lips, and looking at Margaery lying on the bed with her eyes closed, wearing an air of "do as you please," Kal discreetly used a bottle of antidote potion.
Only then did he slowly step forward, looking at the Little Rose lying on the bed.
The low-cut green dress set off that pale expanse, glowing softly like moonlight, supple and tender, like custard pudding.
But faced with the beauty before him, Kal had already recovered from his earlier shock, and his gaze gradually turned calm.
"Did you come alone?"
Lying on the bed with her eyes closed, silently anticipating what would happen next, Margaery did not receive a burning body pressing her down. Instead, she was met with a cold, sharp question.
Hearing this, Margaery froze slightly. She instinctively loosened her bite on her lower lip, opened her eyes, and looked at the man before her.
Faced with those calm, severe eyes, with her body temperature already slightly elevated and her state likewise turned somewhat damp, Margaery felt as though a basin of cold water had been poured over her head.
She shuddered involuntarily, her heart giving a sudden jolt.
"I—I slipped out on my own—" she stammered. "I don't agree with them. You are the true king. Renly is not worthy."
Meeting that gaze, Margaery explained haltingly, but as she spoke, her words gradually became smoother.
Yet in response to this obviously hole-ridden explanation, Kal merely let out a cold laugh.
"You mean to say that you alone—the queen of Renly Baratheon, who styles himself king; the Rose of Highgarden; the noble young lady of House Tyrell; the brightest and most beautiful pearl upon the rose—could actually slip out of Highgarden by yourself?"
"And then avoid everyone and secretly come all the way to the Westerlands?"
"If I remember correctly, we should be enemies right now."
"Oh—right, I almost forgot. Lord Roland Crakehall should know you, yet at a time like this he still took you in, and even guided the king he had just sworn loyalty to come to meet you."
"Shouldn't I reasonably suspect something?"
Kal stated the facts coldly, making Margaery Tyrell, lying on the bed, feel the air around her growing colder and colder.
Instinctively, she sat up from the bed, her expression turning tense.
"No—no, that's not it. I—I don't love Renly at all. I lied to them. I escaped with the cover of a servant, and a maid disguised herself as me."
"I told them I was unwell. The maid could at least buy me a few days, so that's how I managed to escape."
"As for Lord Roland Crakehall, I begged him. Only then did he agree to my request. I told him everything."
Faced with Kal's questioning, Margaery—who had gradually calmed down from her panic—quickly found her footing.
And it had to be said that this quick thinking of hers was indeed impressive. In just a few sentences, she filled in the gaps Kal had pointed out earlier.
Seeing how clever and quick-witted Margaery was, Kal could not help but think that if it had been Sansa here instead, she would probably have been so frightened that she could not even cry.
But this Rose of Highgarden, upon realizing that something was wrong, was still able to respond immediately and appropriately.
"Just for love? Miss Margaery, under these circumstances, I have no choice but to question whether you have ulterior motives."
The corner of Kal's mouth lifted, and his attitude suddenly shifted, no longer as aggressively pressing.
Yet the pressure lingering in Margaery's heart did not dissipate because of Kal's change in tone. On the contrary, it felt even more urgent.
At this moment, facing Kal, Margaery Tyrell felt as though she were standing before the oppressive stillness that comes ahead of a thunderstorm.
However, Margaery still keenly seized the opening Kal had left. In that instant, her expression became even more gentle and alluring, tears welling as if about to fall, stirring pity.
"But in a situation like this, what could a woman like me possibly do?"
Margaery's reply was well-reasoned. In such circumstances, what could she, a woman, really do?
At a time like this, if Kal were willing, he could do it a hundred times over.
And she, a woman, would gain nothing even if she screamed herself hoarse.
Kal understood the implication behind her words, but that sort of thing was not enough to test him.
"You were meant to become a queen, first through another king, then through Renly—yet now you are lying in my bed?"
"What, do you still want to become my queen?"
Kal's tone was filled with mockery.
Yet if Kal had not said this, it might have been better. Once he did, Margaery only appeared even more wronged.
"I never wanted to become anyone's queen. I fell in love with you back when you were just a knight, when you were not even the Lord of Casterly Rock yet."
"I wanted to express my feelings to you. You were the one who refused me, and now you are rejecting me again!"
"Do you have any idea how much courage it took for me to escape from my family and still chase after your footsteps under these circumstances?"
"I only want you to look at me!"
Clear pearls slid from the Rose of Highgarden's eyes, rolling down her cheeks and gathering drop by drop along her beautiful jawline, stirring pity.
Faced with Kal's king-like, merciless questioning, Margaery broke down in tears.
In the end, she let out an indignant cold snort, turned around, and threw herself onto the bed, letting her sobbing be swallowed by the soft bedding as her tears soaked into the sheets.
And Kal only felt a headache coming on.
A gentle sweetness that never overwhelms—pleasant, calculated, hard to resist.
Margaery's words came out so naturally that even though Kal clearly knew the Tyrells were plainly trying to hedge their bets, he still did not know what to say for a moment.
After all, even if he were to voice his suspicions frankly right now, to the present Margaery they would amount to nothing more than slander and unfounded accusations.
Because she had indeed done all of this.
And Kal was certain that, not far from Crakehall, Old Oak had absolutely already arrayed the so-called Tyrell pursuers.
Whether this scheme had been devised by Margaery herself, or by the Queen of Thorns—whom Kal had already crossed blades with twice, albeit indirectly—the Tyrell family would, in such a situation, certainly put on a show and cover all their bases.
Moreover, this confrontation would not be carried out in the name of Kal versus Renly Baratheon. It would undoubtedly be the Tyrell family, acting in their own name, confronting him directly.
The most disgusting part of such a situation was this: as long as the Tyrells bit down hard on the claim that Kal had abducted their Margaery Tyrell, Kal would have nothing to say in response.
After all, Margaery Tyrell truly was here.
Kal could even guess with his big toe that what Lord Roland Crakehall had told him earlier about some mysterious lady waiting for him had not been meaningless talk at all.
What sort of deal these people had struck, Kal did not know.
But right now, he was indeed sharing a roof with this Rose of Highgarden.
When the time came for the Tyrell family to raise their doubts, Kal feared he would have no choice but to once again choose trial by combat, invoking the name of the Seven, to cleanse himself of the charges.
In such circumstances, as long as Margaery had entered his room, the situation would in an instant tilt to the Tyrells' advantage—able to advance if they wished, or retreat if they chose.
At that point, Kal's accusations against Renly Baratheon over the succession would be significantly weakened under such a pretext.
Because the Tyrell family could still use the pretext that Kal had abducted Margaery Tyrell to launch a campaign against him.
As for Renly Baratheon, at a time like this they could also twist the argument and claim that it was precisely because Kal had done this that they were forced to act as they did.
Much like when Robert Baratheon rose up because Rhaegar Targaryen abducted his betrothed, Lyanna Stark.
Under such circumstances, even those in the Reach who might originally have been unwilling to support Renly Baratheon would be coerced and swept along by the Tyrell family using this justification.
Even if its practical effect was limited, at the very least it was still a reason, was it not?
Looking at the weeping, grief-stricken Margaery, Kal found himself thinking more and more, the corner of his mouth twitching involuntarily.
For a moment, he wondered who the hell had come up with such a nauseating scheme.
And beyond that, Kal of course also understood another fact.
That was that this was, in truth, also the Tyrell family extending him an opportunity: as long as everyone refrained from tearing their faces off at this moment, everything could still be negotiated.
If Margaery Tyrell had run away with you for love, then our House Tyrell is not so tasteless as to spoil the moment.
We would even gladly see her become your queen, Kal Baratheon, and House Tyrell would in turn become your most loyal ally.
As for Renly Baratheon?
Nothing more than a roadside stray.
A treacherous rebel, one who deceives his sovereign and defies his liege—naturally to be dealt with by the esteemed His Majesty, King Kal Baratheon I.
And then House Tyrell would likewise summon its bannermen and, together with His Majesty King Kal, set out to punish another disloyal subject of Dragonstone—Stannis Baratheon.
It had to be admitted: this move was truly smooth and elegant.
The price paid was nothing more than a woman—a seemingly noble Rose of Highgarden.
And in that instant, the great ship of House Tyrell, which had appeared to have gone off course, could abruptly swing about and firmly take Kal's side.
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