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GOT Chapter 62: The Last Salute
🕑 Added 2025-08-08 04:03:47 +0000 UTC“There’s really no other way out, is there?!” the Kingslayer clenched his jaw and said again, biting out the words.
He looked into Kal’s eyes, his own filled with a desperate plea. “I want to trade my life in exchange for Cersei’s.”
But all he received in return was Kal’s cold, unwavering stare.
“Lannister—your blood is no more noble than anyone else’s.”
“You murdered Eddard Stark’s child—the heir of Winterfell—simply because he uncovered the incestuous affair between you and your sister.”
“He was only seven—”
“And now you beg me, a lowborn bastard, to spare your child and your lover?”
“Tell me—don’t you think that’s ridiculous?!”
“Jaime, no one is obliged to pay the price for your sins and madness!”
At Kal’s words, Jaime fell silent.
He understood them—and accepted them.
He knew now, too, that there was no more room for negotiation.
So, almost instinctively, he let out a faint, bitter laugh.
There was only contempt in that laugh—directed at himself.
Then, slowly, he turned his head, looking toward the woman he loved, who had collapsed to the ground against the stone wall—who, just like him, now understood that Kal would not show them mercy.
Faced with Kal’s accusations, Jaime had no response.
In fact, just as Kal had said—he too felt ashamed of the man he had become.
Suddenly, Jaime let out a faint sigh. Then, in a tone filled with complex emotion—yet touched by a hint of resolve—he slowly said, “I understand now—”
As he spoke, the man long known as the Kingslayer turned to face Kal.
“Ser Kal Stone… You are a true knight. It’s been an honor to meet you.”
“It’s just a pity… that we couldn’t have been friends.”
While saying this, Jaime once again gripped his gilded longsword and slowly rose to his feet.
His gaze was steady as he looked at Kal, and the struggle that had once lingered in his expression had completely vanished.
He even began to smile, his eyes carrying a trace of wistful longing.
“I once dreamed of becoming someone like you—”
“But that boy… when did he die?”
“Was it the day I donned the white cloak?”
“Or the moment I slit Aerys’ throat?”
“That boy… the one who grew up wanting to be Arthur Dayne… somehow, along the way, life veered off course—and I became the Smiling Knight instead.”
The Kingslayer smiled faintly as he judged himself, gazing at Kal with calm clarity.
Listening to these heartfelt words, Kal fixed his eyes on Jaime—but slowly shook his head.
“You are your own knight.”
“And in truth, I know this much too—there are many, many people in this world who’ve unknowingly received your greatest kindness, yet speak ill of you behind your back.”
“So in my eyes, you too are a true knight. A proper Kingsguard with a soul of his own—not some vile Kingslayer.”
“...”
Upon hearing those words, the mocking smile froze on Jaime’s face, and a flash of unspeakable shock filled his eyes.
As the one directly involved, he knew exactly what Kal’s words were referring to.
But what he couldn’t understand… was how Kal could possibly know the secret he had hidden so deeply.
And yet, as he continued to look at Kal, a smile once again returned to Jaime’s face.
This time, though, it was no longer one of mockery.
It was a smile of release—one of liberation.
“I’ll tell you honestly: what tainted me… was this white cloak. Nothing else.” Jaime said with a smile.
“But that was also the path through which you upheld your sense of honor—” Kal shook his head again. “You only lost your way, and took the wrong path in the torment and guilt that followed.”
“If that’s so… then I’m willing to pay the price I deserve!”
The Kingslayer said this with a laugh—then raised his sword once more, pointing it toward Kal.
This man…
Whom he had never expected.
A kindred spirit.
“I won't kill you, and I won’t kill her either!”
Seeing Jaime Lannister once again raise his sword against him, Kal also lifted the longsword he called Pale Justice.
He spoke in an even tone.
“But I will kill you.”
Jaime didn’t seem to care about Kal’s mercy. Instead, he smiled as he said the words declaring his intent to kill Kal.
Understanding the meaning behind his words, Kal’s lips curled into a faint smile.
“If you’re capable of it.”
Hearing this, Jaime narrowed his eyes slightly, then gave a short, matching chuckle.
And then, he offered Kal a solemn knight’s salute.
Kal did not return it. He remained still in place.
He refused.
But that didn’t matter anymore.
Because in the next instant, as the howling winds of the North swept into the ruined tower, the sound of a blade cutting through the air rang out.
[Clang!]
Kal blocked it effortlessly—and immediately pressed back with a counterforce.
Jaime knew all too well that he wasn’t a match for the monster before him in terms of strength. Without hesitation, he retreated, shifting his weight—
Then suddenly arced around in a half-circle, slashing at Kal’s lower leg from an oblique angle with a backhanded stroke.
That longsword, though not pale in color, bore a pale name—and it once again intercepted his attack with just the slightest downward angle.
Having failed to land a blow, Jaime once again pulled his sword back.
But this time, he didn’t change the direction of his strike. Without any warning, he quickly lunged again—his sword tip darting back along the same path, aiming this time for Kal’s thigh.
But what greeted him this time wasn’t Kal’s sword.
Facing an opponent who kept targeting his lower body in an attempt to use their height difference to compensate for the gap in skill, Kal casually lifted his leg—
And then, without warning, he kicked Jaime Lannister squarely on the wrist that held his sword.
[Crack!]
Jaime felt a jolt of sharp pain shoot through his hand.
Forget continuing the attack—he nearly lost his grip on the sword entirely.
Without hesitation, and having deliberately held back some of his strength earlier, Jaime immediately pulled back and widened the distance between himself and Kal.
Giving himself a moment to breathe.
Seeing that Jaime turned and backed away after just a single kick, Kal didn’t bother to give chase.
There was nowhere for him to run anyway.
And having failed with three consecutive strikes—and now even taking a hit himself—Jaime retreated and saw that Kal hadn’t pursued him…
Only then did he finally glance down at his wrist.
He reached over to pull back his sleeve, and saw that the spot where he’d been kicked was steadily turning red and swelling. At the same time, a numb weakness was welling up inside him—he could barely hold his sword steady.
Staring at his trembling hand, weakened from just a single kick, a bitter look crept onto Jaime’s face.
“So overwhelmingly strong… It’s hopeless. I’m like a child who’s just learned to walk, standing in front of you.”
“No need for despair. It only applies when facing me,” Kal replied, twirling his sword in an elegant flourish. “After all, it’s the same for everyone who faces me.”
Hearing Kal’s completely unreserved words, Jaime’s smile grew even more bitter.
But he didn’t deny them.
“To you, maybe this is just a game…”
“But to me—this is the mountain I must climb!”
Ignoring the numbness and weakness in his hand, Jaime forced his muscles to obey and gripped his longsword tightly.
With a clench of his jaw, he charged toward Kal once more.
This time, he wouldn’t retreat.
Because he knew—this was his one final chance.
And once his resolve was set, Jaime’s attack on Kal no longer held any of the flashy flair it had before.
He launched himself forward with a straight thrust—the fastest technique he had—aiming directly for Kal’s chest.
A fierce resolve surged through him, giving him the strength to charge without hesitation.
Kal saw right through him.
So this time, instead of simply blocking the attack as he had in their previous exchanges, he lifted his sword—
Then suddenly let his wrist go soft.
And in a strange, fluid motion, positioned his blade a palm’s length from the tip, intercepting Jaime’s oncoming sword mid-air:
The sword of Lannister, now caught.
Kal’s blade pressed against Jaime’s, and with a smooth, gentle force, he guided and diverted Jaime’s weapon to the side.
And as the two longswords clashed, Jaime could clearly feel a strange force emanating from Kal’s blade—spreading like a twisting vine, it seized his sword and forcibly diverted its trajectory.
Faced with such an uncanny maneuver, Jaime frowned.
But his reaction was swift. Just as Kal began using his subtle technique to pull at the blade—
Jaime made the decision not to resist or try to pull his sword back.
Instead, he did the opposite and shoved it forward with even greater force.
At once, a crisp metallic ring echoed through the air, followed by the screeching hiss of steel sliding against steel.
Jaime’s longsword smoothly slipped free from Kal’s eerie control, returning fully to his grasp.
Kal was slightly taken aback. He hadn’t expected Jaime to react so quickly—or that his method of breaking the move would be so clever.
It was a pleasant surprise.
Still, surprise or not, neither of them paused in this instant of close-quarters exchange.
The gilded longsword that had been caught by Kal’s refined technique just moments ago—
Was now, in an instant, reversed in control. Jaime used the crossguard of his own sword to push against Kal’s blade, driving the clash toward Kal's exposed edge.
And realizing that his desperate strike had managed to gain him a brief upper hand, Jaime—without time to feel pleased—instinctively brought his free hand to brace the pommel of his sword.
Then, using the combined strength of both arms, he set the crossguard of his weapon against Kal’s blade as a pivot point—and with a swift twist of his gilded sword—
That cold, gleaming edge flashed toward Kal’s neck.
“A remarkable move!”
Kal’s voice of admiration rang out—just as a sharp, grating screech pierced the air.
A sound so piercing it felt like it could rip the soul straight from a man’s body.
