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GOT Chapter 111: The Cold Welcome at the Eyrie
🕑 Added 2025-08-30 05:29:57 +0000 UTC“Kal Stone.”
Nestor Royce was a large man, broad-chested, bald, with streaks of white running through his beard, and a small birthmark on his face.
Looking upon the bastard who had once worked in service to House Arryn, and who now bore the title of Warden of the East, his gaze was filled with complexity—
But above all, with resentment.
Hearing himself addressed, Kal inclined his head slightly. “High Steward Nestor Royce, it has been a long time. Have you come to greet me?”
“I suppose so,” Nestor replied, his voice carrying a suppressed, flat tone.
“Then I’ll trouble you no further. I have more pressing matters at hand.”
For a man who gave him nothing but a cold face, Kal had no patience for polite chatter.
After all, he had not come here to win the favor of some steward.
Nestor’s expression shifted at those blunt words, growing more sour. His eyes flicked to Ser Brynden Tully, who rode beside Kal.
Then he lifted his chin slightly and spoke in a tone of official detachment: “Apologies, Ser Kal Stone. Night is falling. Lord Robert Arryn has already retired and will not receive visitors.”
“You must rest here for the night. Tomorrow, I will convey your request for an audience.”
At these words, Kal’s face betrayed no change.
But Ser Brynden Tully frowned.
Just as he was about to speak, Hall stepped forward from behind Kal.
“Sir, the man before you is the Warden of the East. Perhaps you should show more respect.”
Hall had bristled ever since the old steward had dared to call his lord only by name. Now, seeing him treat Kal so dismissively, he could no longer hold back and spoke out sharply.
Seeing an outsider dare to scold him, Nestor Royce’s face darkened further.
But before he could answer, Kal raised a hand.
“This is the place where I was raised. Both in duty and in sentiment, I should keep respect for it—especially for the sake of Lord Jon Arryn’s memory.”
Kal’s hand cut off the quarrel before it began. Then he lowered his gaze to meet that of High Steward Nestor Royce, who had thought to disgust him with such petty tricks.
His tone grew cold.
“I can wait, and rest for a night.
“But let me remind you, High Steward Nestor Royce—I do not represent myself alone. I also carry the Iron Throne’s will toward the Vale."
“Still, I trust you will faithfully convey my arrival to the master of the Eyrie. I imagine the lords who await me are far more anxious than you."
“Now see to it that proper arrangements are made for my men.”
With that, Kal wasted not another word, his tone one of command, giving Nestor no face at all. Then he turned and left on his own.
Here, perhaps, he knew the ground far better than the High Steward himself.
And so Nestor Royce was left standing, face dark and unsightly.
...
The next day came, and in the end, Nestor dared not cause any further trouble.
Or perhaps he could do nothing at all.
Looking up at the familiar Eyrie before him, Kal raised his eyes to the splendid fortress above, formed from seven slender white towers tightly joined together.
Sky Castle was the second checkpoint on the road from the Gates of the Moon to the Arryn seat, the Eyrie.
Along the narrow mountain path leading from the Gates of the Moon to the Eyrie stood three fortresses in total, guarding the way in sequence: Sky Castle, Snow Castle, and Stone Castle. The path to Sky Castle was hemmed in by forest, with a heavy iron gate, stone walls bristling with iron spikes, and two stout round towers flanking the keep.
A burly knight stood guard here, his gaze fixed through his helm upon Kal and his company.
Kal paid him no heed, striding forward at the lead with practiced ease.
Beyond Sky Castle, the ascent toward Snow Castle and then Stone Castle grew even steeper.
At last Kal reached Stone Castle, the final stronghold before the Eyrie.
Here, the road became perilous in the extreme.
Exposed constantly to fierce winds, the steps along this path had, over years of freezing, fallen into disrepair.
Stone Castle itself was crescent-shaped, built of rough-hewn stone against the mountainside, its high tower rising stark against the sky. Behind its walls lay a long sloping ramp, along with piles of boulders prepared to be hurled down—or even unleashed to trigger a small avalanche.
Seeing this, Kal could not help but sigh again. In a world of such limited means, this was nothing short of a miracle.
Such castles could only exist in a story. In reality, such wonders would never be built.
Within this fortress was a cavern Kal knew well, serving at once as a natural hall, a stable, and a storehouse of provisions.
Once, such work had been part of his own duties.
But to climb from Stone Castle the additional 180 m up to the Eyrie, there remained only a narrow path carved into the rock, with handholds along its edge.
After that came an earthen slope that could scarcely be called a road at all.
The other option was to ride in an oak gondola hauled by chains and winches from the Eyrie above.
This time, Kal did not choose that way.
Leading the company, he chose the narrow path. He would not grant Lysa Tully—or the mockingbird behind her—the slightest chance.
“What a cursed place,” Hall muttered halfway up.
But when he dared stick his head past the stone wall to look down below, he was so terrified he instantly jerked it back.
Jon walked just behind him, his eyes wide with wonder as he took in the sight before them.
He had been born and raised in Winterfell, never having seen any landscape that was not cloaked in snow.
The Eyrie, and the way it was built, struck him with a shock that ran from body to soul. Yet though awe shone in his gaze, his hands still clutched tightly at Samwell Tarly, who followed behind.
Kal had not allowed those with him to remain below the Eyrie.
He held no good opinion of Lysa Tully, nor could he be certain what might occur within the castle’s walls.
Out of caution, Kal chose to bring Samwell and the others along with him.
And at the rear of their company rode Ser Brynden Tully, who deliberately kept himself between them and High Steward Nestor Royce, silently accompanying Kal the whole way.
Struggling along the treacherous mountain path, fear was plain on Samwell’s face. But mingled with that fear burned a fierce fire in his eyes.
Though his complexion turned pale as the mountain winds lashed him, there was also exhilaration in his expression as he savored every moment of the journey.
Never before had he traveled farther north than the Reach—let alone into the Vale, to see with his own eyes the Eyrie he had known only from books.
Now, in his mind, fear and excitement tumbled together as he rifled through every scrap of history about the Eyrie that he had ever read.
And in this strange, charged atmosphere—
Kal and his party at last stepped into the castle of gleaming white stone.
There to greet them stood a woman somewhat plump of figure, with the blue eyes of House Tully, thin severe lips, and a mane of long red-brown hair spilling in waves down to her waist.
Her gaze was sharp and cruel as it fixed on Kal.
In her arms, a small boy with pale skin, brown hair, and wide eyes thrashed, trying desperately to wrench himself free of her grip.
His expression was both sickly and frantic.
This was the new Lord of the Eyrie, Robert Arryn—together with his mother, Lysa Tully.
When Kal Stone arrived, Lysa Tully’s face was cold, and she did not utter a single word.
She spoke nothing to Kal, nor did she show the slightest intention of doing so.
She even deliberately yanked back Robert Arryn, who had just been about to say something to Kal. Her face was covered in ice and snow, her eyes filled with bitter venom. Then she turned away, dragging the boy with her, and walked through the great doors into the castle.
Watching this woman, Kal let out a faint sigh in his heart.
He gave a small smile to the boy being pulled along by his mother, who still looked back at him.
Having lived half a year in King’s Landing and often dealt with Lord Jon Arryn, how could Kal not recognize the two of them?
Earlier, young Robin’s face had been full of excitement—the reaction of someone seeing a familiar figure.
But now, it was clear that for Lysa Tully, he could only be seen as an enemy.
Listening to the roar of the Tears of Alyssa waterfall echoing in his ears, Kal fixed his gaze on the lady of the Eyrie as she departed.
Then he turned back to Jon and the others and gave a short order: “Let’s go. Follow.”
