Outside the city of Storm's End, two Kingsguard knights, Lyn Corbray and Arys Oakheart, along with a dozen Red Keep guards, crouched as they stalked through the woods, searching for game.
Whoosh~ A gray-haired wild hare, startled, leapt from the grass at a guard's feet, darting through the trees. As it reached Arys' feet, he swiftly drove his sword into its body.
Lifting the longsword, Arys handed the hare to one of the guards and ordered, "Let it bleed, then chop it up. Mix it together and scatter it in the clearing ahead. We're going after something big this time!"
"Yes, my lord," the guard replied, taking the hare and running off to prepare the bait.
"Arys, didn't we plan to find a wild ox? Are you now preparing to hunt a meat-eating beast?" Lyn asked, noticing the change in plans.
"The king's health is worsening every day. Barristan said to try and find rare game for him. The wild water buffalo in the Riverlands are too common. Let's see if we can draw in a bear or a wolf this time." Arys pushed his damp, light brown hair from his face, his once handsome face now wet with dew.
"If the king passes and Stannis becomes king, will you stay?" Lyn whispered.
"I will always be loyal to my duty, loyal to this white cloak. Whether I stay or not depends on Stannis." Arys raised his hand and gently stroked the scales on his chest plate.
The Kingsguard wore unified bright white armor, each with small personal decorations. For example, Arys wore enamel-colored decorative scales on his chest, and his white cloak was made of fine lamb's wool, almost like an advertisement for his family's wealth.
"I guess we're all out of luck," Lyn said, removing his helmet and wringing out his wet hair.
The Kingsguard held a lifetime position. Unless there was war, death, or rebellion, they would continue to serve the next king after the current one's death, whether it was the previous king's son or designated heir. But Stannis was a special case.
Under his command, the royal fleet had received large sums of money from Wright and Renly, along with a constant recruitment of young men from the Iron Islands. With years of conflict and numerous skirmishes with pirates, the navy had developed into a force of skilled warriors, many of whom coveted the highest honor of being a Kingsguard knight.
Once Stannis became king, and with Barristan's age and energy fading, those who had served Robert would likely be dismissed from their positions, much like Jaime, and sent back to their homes.
Lyn said, "I've heard rumors from Varys, not sure how true they are. There's been a lot of infighting within the royal fleet for a spot on the Kingsguard. Some have even died in duels."
"Arys, my dream has always been to join the Kingsguard. If I'm made to take off this white cloak, I'd rather die!" Arys spoke with uncharacteristic firmness. He usually kept to himself, but in such uncertain times, he couldn't keep his thoughts to himself.
"Brother, don't think like that! From what I've seen of Stannis, he's not a brutal, unreasonable man. He will handle our problems properly," Lyn said with a more open perspective, quickly trying to comfort him.
Being dismissed from the Kingsguard was a blow to some, a disgrace to others. To many, honor was more important than life, and they would rather die than live with such an insult. This was a fear shared by more than just the two of them—many other Kingsguard knights had the same worry.
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The Riverlands were drenched in continuous rain. After Robert arrived at Storm's End, he had spent most of his time inside the castle. Daily feasts and performances became tiresome, and, more importantly, his wallet could no longer take it.
Fortunately, the rain stopped last night, and by morning, the sun had come out. The sunlight made the muddy land steam, and the entire city of Storm's End was shrouded in a thick fog.
"Finally, we can go out! Edmure, you and your men are coming with me to hunt today!" Robert didn't wait for Edmure's approval and immediately began preparing the hunting party early in the morning.
Edmure Tully, too, was restless: "There are wild water buffalo and wild boar in the Riverlands. With the weather like this, they'll be out looking for food, so today's game will be plentiful!"
When the king went hunting, a lot of preparation was necessary. A large group of guards had to follow, and provisions had to be gathered—dry rations, water, cooking utensils, and most importantly, other nobles had to be notified. Hunting wasn't just for the meat. It was a vital social activity, where lords could forge connections and make deals, young knights could demonstrate their bravery, and unmarried women could look for suitable suitors.
Once everything was ready, Robert mounted his steed and led a group of several hundred out, and by the time they set off, it was already nearly noon.
They ventured into the dense forest, where the nobles ate their rations while reminiscing. By two in the afternoon, they found a clearing by a small stream and set up camp. The local hunters said the area was difficult to reach and had few human visitors, making it rich in game compared to other regions.
The attendants and soldiers unloaded supplies from the carts and began erecting luxurious tents. Robert, wielding his war hammer, led the nobles deeper into the forest to begin the hunt.
Behind Robert, Arys and Lyn had somehow rejoined the party.
The two nodded to the captain of the Kingsguard, Barristan. Arys even made a few gestures with his hand, which Barristan acknowledged with a nod, signaling he understood. As they crested a small hill, a bear, pierced through both legs, awaited Robert's arrival to show his strength.
"Robert, will the vampires from the Westerlands come here?" As the distance from Storm's End grew, Edmure began to worry.
"Haha, Wright is already flying over the Westerlands on his dragon, patrolling the area. Those foolish vampires better hide in their caves and not show their faces!" With Wright back, Robert was no longer worried, leisurely riding his horse with his warhammer in hand.
"True, with the dragon in the sky, and with Qyburn and Thoros here with us, any vampire with some sense wouldn't dare show up." Edmure smiled as well.
Robert: "It's just a shame for old Tywin. Haven't seen him in over a decade, and now that I make a move, he's gone."
Edmure: "The Westerlands lack magical defenses. The detection towers in Storm's End, under Qyburn's guidance, are progressing quickly. They should be finished soon. I've contacted a few mages from the Citadel, and they're willing to come to Storm's End as advisors."
The two rode ahead of the group, casually chatting. Before they knew it, they had crossed a small hill, and the hunting dogs, which the hunters had brought, began to bark furiously ahead.
"There's prey!" One of the hunters shouted as the dogs, their leashes taut, ran off toward the woods.
The dogs—black, white, and gray—howled as they charged into the trees.
"The dogs are barking so fiercely; this prey must be something special!" Robert tightened the reins and slowly dismounted, taking his warhammer and following the sound of the dogs.
Other nobles dismounted as well, grabbing various weapons to follow. The best weapons for hunting were bows, but the nobles didn't care about that—swords, axes, and spears were just as good. Using a bow wasn't flashy enough.
Roar~~~
In a small clearing, the black bear stood up, only to suddenly crouch back down, sitting on the ground and growling in anger. The hunting dogs circled around it, trying to bite at the bear's rear, but the bear, though appearing clumsy, was incredibly agile. It spun around, biting one of the dogs and sending it flying with a powerful slap. The dog struggled to get up and scampered back to its owner, tail between its legs.
Robert and the group emerged from the trees to the side. Seeing the fierce black bear, the nobles grabbed their weapons and readied themselves. The soldiers, hearing it was a black bear, raised their shields and rushed forward, forming a shield wall in front of Robert.
"Get out of the way. Don't block the path." Robert waved his warhammer, ordering the soldiers to move.
He held the warhammer with both hands, crouched down, and slowly approached, ready to strike the bear while it was distracted.
"You go protect the king." Barristan instructed a few young Kingsguard to follow.
For Barristan, now nearly sixty-six, crouching and advancing like that was difficult. If he tried to stand up suddenly after bending for too long, his back would give out, and he'd be bedridden for weeks.
The best prey was reserved for the king, and the watching nobles held their breath, eagerly imagining how they would praise Robert after he killed the bear.
The dogs continued to bark, keeping the bear distracted. It still hadn't noticed Robert sneaking up on it.
Suddenly, a bush rustled to the side, and a shadowy figure sprang out. After a couple of steps, it leapt high into the air and landed on the black bear, its four sharp claws sinking into the bear's skin. Before the bear could react, the creature's sharp fangs had already pierced the bear's neck. Its eyes locked on Robert.
"Shit." Robert staggered back in shock, nearly falling to the ground.
Two smaller shadows emerged from the bushes, knocking down two of the hunting dogs. They bit into the dogs' necks and then looked up at Robert.
"Quick! Surround and protect the king!" Barristan drew his sword, shouting.
"How could there be shadowcats in the south of the Riverlands?" The nobles from the Riverlands recognized the creatures.
The soldiers rushed to form a shield wall in front of Robert, and the Kingsguard drew their swords, preparing to face the shadowcats.
The prey had been stolen, and two of the dogs were dead. The remaining dogs, frightened, retreated toward the group. Encouraged by the hunters, they slowly regained their courage and lined up to bark at the shadowcats.
Whooo~
The shadowcats growled deeply, a low rumbling sound that sent a wave of pressure over the dogs. The elite predators' aura caused the dogs to instinctively back away.
Lying on the ground, Robert was helped up, still trembling in fear. Gasping for breath, he parted the shield wall to get a clear view of the three black beasts.
The shadowcats were only slightly smaller than the black bear. Unlike the bear, they weren't omnivores—they were pure carnivores. Their black fur, striped with white, allowed them to blend seamlessly into the forest. Their long, sharp claws and powerful muscles gave them agility, great leaping ability, and strength. Their long, sharp teeth made them deadly predators—once their fangs sank into your neck, there was no escape. Shadowcats were the apex predators in Westeros' natural ecosystem.
"Only in the North, the Vale's Mountains of the Moon, and the West's great mountains can shadowcats live. How did they end up in the Riverlands?"
"Isn't Lord Wright traveling across the Westerlands? He probably scared them off with his dragon and they ran here."
With more people and well-crafted armor, shields, and weapons, the fear from the sudden appearance of the shadowcats quickly dissipated. The nobles began to chatter among themselves.
"Slowly retreat! Don't provoke them, shadowcats generally won't attack humans!" Edmure shouted.
The shield wall moved back step by step, with the soldiers pulling Robert along.
Robert shrugged off their hands and stood still, staring intently at the shadowcat still clinging to the black bear's neck. Perhaps both had recognized each other as leaders, as neither flinched, locking eyes with one another.
"Your Grace, retreat to the back," the Kingsguard shouted.
"Retreat to the back?" Robert murmured to himself.
Lifting his left hand, Robert looked at his palm. The many round scars on both the back and the palm of his hand caught his eye. His fingers no longer looked bloated, now matching the normal size of any man's. He looked down at his stomach. His once large belly had disappeared. It wasn't the result of dieting or exercise; it was the disease that was slowly making him waste away.
"Getting paralyzed on the ground by a mere animal, needing assistance just to rise. How did I, Robert, become like this?"
He lifted his right hand and gazed at his exquisite Valyrian steel warhammer. Its pale gold base was adorned with deep golden smoke-like patterns, and the hammerhead, sculpted into an angry stag, seemed to mock him.
"Discord. This weapon was made to resolve conflict, yet it's never once tasted blood."
Robert lifted his head. Now hidden behind the gap in the shield wall, he saw the shadowcat ignoring all the humans around and daring to steal the kill. It reminded him so much of his former self.
He shoved aside the shields, stepped forward, gripping his warhammer tightly, slightly bending his knees, and stared down the shadowcat in a battle-ready stance. At that moment, the voices of those trying to stop him seemed to disappear. The pain in his body also seemed to fade, and Robert felt young again, like when he had been the first to charge the city walls, hammering down the enemy commander.
"Ha!"
Robert shouted, moving toward the black bear's direction.
Ooo~~~
The other two shadowcats dropped the dead hunting dogs from their mouths and leaped to the black bear's carcass, emitting deep growls.
Robert didn't retreat; he continued advancing step by step, tightening his grip on the hammer's handle, shifting his right hand to the middle for a quicker attack.
Behind him, the soldiers raised their shields and followed closely, with a few Kingsguard members armed with long swords flanking either side. They would attack anything that dared to approach Robert.
"Roar!"
With a furious cry, Robert slammed the warhammer onto the ground, causing a dull thud.
Ha~~~
The shadowcat, still holding onto the black bear, let go and growled at Robert before retreating. It grabbed a hunting dog's corpse and disappeared into the woods. The other two followed its lead, taking another hunting dog's body with them.
"Long live the King!"
The surrounding nobles cheered, raising their weapons in excitement.
"Long live the King? Ha, I'm just a useless man," Robert muttered, setting his warhammer down on the ground. His hands and legs trembled uncontrollably.
Beneath his clothes, sores on his skin were bursting open, and thick fluid and blood soaked through his shirt, the searing pain torturing him.