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GOT Chapter 107: A Lesson Cut Short by Death
🕑 Added 2025-08-30 04:01:39 +0000 UTCAt Kal’s words, not only Sam himself, but also Jon Snow and the others riding behind were struck dumb.
They all knew there had to be some reason why the heir of Horn Hill had chosen the black. But none had ever imagined it might be as Kal described.
Too cruel. Far too cruel—
Jon’s face twisted with conflicting feelings. He could not help but blurt out, “My lord, surely Lord Randyll Tarly would not…”
But before he could finish, Samwell turned to Kal, eyes wide with horror. “Y-you… how do you know?”
“It isn’t hard to guess,” Kal replied lightly, glancing back to Jon with a wink.
Jon opened his mouth, then closed it again helplessly.
Jory Cassel, noticing his troubled look, stepped forward and gave his shoulder a firm pat.
Jon nodded back, signaling he was fine.
But the curiosity he had once held toward Samwell’s story had been cut in half in an instant.
Only then, after thoroughly unsettling the fat boy, did Kal finally turn serious.
He turned his head toward Sam, smiling gently as he said, “Samwell Tarly, do you think that meeting you, and stopping you so roughly and forcefully, was nothing more than an accident?”
Jory Cassel, who had just been consoling Jon, immediately turned his head, curiosity flickering across his face.
As for Samwell himself, hearing Kal’s words only left him more bewildered.
But before Samwell could answer, Kal continued slowly, “What if I told you that I know you—would that surprise you?”
At those words, Samwell’s thoughts spun wildly.
Yet in all his memories—everything he had ever done under the arrangements of his father, Lord Randyll Tarly, even the time he was mocked and humiliated on Greenstone when he tried to become another lord’s page—none of it seemed connected.
Samwell was certain he had never met this Ser Kal Stone.
He had never had any dealings with the Vale, let alone with a bastard knight called Stone.
Still, to be sure, Samwell cautiously asked in a small voice, “Ser Kal… have we met before?”
“We have not,” Kal replied firmly, his gaze just as steady. “But I have heard your story.”
At that, and seeing the smile still on Kal’s face, Samwell flushed crimson.
He knew all too well what stories were told about him—he understood exactly what Kal’s words meant.
Shame flooded him, and he lowered his head, letting the horse carry him along the mountain path.
Noticing his discomfort, Kal’s expression did not waver.
“Do you think I stopped you and forced you into my company just to humiliate you?” Kal asked softly.
Samwell did not raise his head.
“If that’s what you believe, let me tell you—it isn’t so.”
Samwell heard Kal’s tone grow suddenly solemn, and he lifted his eyes in secret.
“You possess courage of your own—a quality unique to you.” Meeting his gaze directly, Kal’s voice was firm as steel. “But sadly, Lord Randyll Tarly seems not to have noticed.”
“Or rather, it wasn’t what he expected. So he refuses to see it. He refuses to acknowledge it.”
“That is why you ‘volunteered’ to take the black.”
Kal suddenly pulled the reins, halting his horse.
He looked directly at Samwell Tarly, his eyes unwavering, his tone grave.
“But I do not see it that way.”
“You would make an excellent steward. Perhaps, in time, even one of the king’s councilors.”
“Sam, what you lack is not courage. It is only confidence.”
“Follow me, and I will see that you find your true self.”
“I—”
Hearing that string of words, and meeting Kal’s firm, sincere gaze, Samwell opened his mouth, just about to say something.
But in that instant, he noticed the knight’s eyes suddenly sharpen.
Kal’s hand flashed, drawing the gilded longsword at his hip in one swift motion, the blade whipping through the air faster than the naked eye could follow.
Samwell’s ears caught only a crisp ring of steel striking stone. A heartbeat later, he saw something intercepted midair.
Instinctively he looked down. A stone, split clean in half, tumbled into the mud at his feet.
Before Samwell could even grasp what had happened, a storm of sharp whooshes tore through the air in rapid succession—followed by muffled shouts from within the surrounding forest, words he couldn’t make out.
“Wuhuuu!”
“Kill them!”
Deflecting one hurled rock aimed at his head with a rising slash, Kal tilted his head aside to dodge another and bellowed, “Ambush!”
As he barked the warning, his eyes swept the terrain, urgently calling out to Jon and the others.
It was then he realized: part of the assault came from above. Just off the roadside loomed a sheer cliff face, perhaps 10 meters high, and from its edge had come the stones raining down.
The rest of the attacks burst from the trees flanking the path—wild, poorly-aimed arrows shooting out of the dense woods.
And at that moment Kal understood: they had walked straight into a stretch of road carved inward against the cliff wall.
A perfect place for an ambush.
“Stay alert—watch the cliff and the treeline! Hug the wall!” Kal shouted again, his voice commanding over the chaos.
Even as he spoke, another stone plummeted down toward his horse’s head. Kal cut it apart in midair with a fierce stroke, sparks flying as the fragments clattered down.
The sudden violence startled the steed beneath him. With a panicked whinny, it stamped and tossed its head wildly, ready to bolt in fright.
Kal had no intention of sitting as a target on the horse’s back. Planting a boot on the saddle, he vaulted off in a single bound, hurling himself straight toward Samwell Tarly—who was still gawking around in confusion, too stunned to even realize what had just happened.
Samwell only saw darkness sweep over him, then felt himself yanked up and flung aside, the world spinning wildly around him.
Kal hauled him clean off the saddle, dragging the hapless man to safety before shoving him firmly against the cliff wall.
Only then, taking cover behind his horse, did Kal glance back across the road toward the dense woods.
Branches and brush shook violently. Shouts and war cries were drawing closer, swelling with every breath.
Now that their enemy’s position was clear, Kal finally turned his gaze back to his companions.
Yet the moment he looked, what he saw made his chest tighten—
Kennedy, following Kal’s command, had just drawn his sword and taken up a defensive stance, when suddenly, above his head, a shadow flashed down from the cliff.
A sharp, sickening crack of bone splitting rang out.
Kennedy’s body went rigid, and in the same instant, part of his skull shattered. He toppled stiffly from his saddle.
It seemed the stone hurled from the cliff, having missed its original target, had chosen him instead.
By cruel chance, one rock landed squarely on his head.
Because the group had been riding hard along the road, none of them had their helmets on. At most, they wore only lighter gear—leather or chainmail.
So there was no surprise when the fist-sized stone slammed down. In the instant it struck Kennedy’s skull, it split his head wide open, crushing bone and bursting brain matter outward in a spray that splattered across Jon’s face.
Kal, seeing one of their number cut down so suddenly, had no time to dwell on whether the name Kennedy carried some ill fate.
Nor could he spare a thought for Samwell, whom he was still holding by the arm, the man dazed and reeling. Kal simply roared at the rest: “Off your horses—don’t sit there as targets!”
His warning was quick, and the others reacted at once.
The barrage from above and the trees had already slowed—their hidden foes in the woods were closing in, ready to fight at closer range.
Seizing that narrow opening, the group hurried to follow Kal’s command. They dismounted at once and pressed themselves against the cliff wall, using their horses as cover.
Seeing them obey without hesitation, moving with speed and discipline, Kal felt a grim satisfaction. The past months of bloody training under his lead had not been wasted.
Without that experience, Jon and the others would never have reacted so quickly.
As for Kennedy—he was simply unlucky.
From the moment Kal struck down the first stone, to dragging Samwell into safety, only three or four seconds had passed.
From there, until Jon and the others dismounted and scrambled to the cliffside, barely ten seconds more.
