After much fruitless contemplation, Krell realized that the essence of the question was fundamentally akin to asking what the Light King, Rahlo, really was – a question that couldn't be answered at this moment. Unable to figure it out, Krell, with his usual nonchalant demeanor, decided to let it be. Summoning the guard captain, who stood erect like a javelin, Krell paid no attention to his apologetic attitude and instead asked him, "Have you seen Robb and the others?"
"No, my lord. But I heard rumors at the banquet yesterday that His Majesty the King and Lord Edd have intentions of fostering closeness between the children of the two houses."
"Continue," Krell gestured for him to proceed.
"As you know, our Northern ways often involve swordplay to establish bonds. So, I believe if you want to find them, you should check the training ground."
Looking somewhat surprised at the veteran named Hosta, Krell was aware that Hosta's judgment was quite accurate.
Eddard Stark wished for his upright and honest eldest son to bond with the Crown Prince. This was understandable to both Eddard and Robert, as they believed that the older stag and wolf shared a profound friendship while growing old together. Thus, the young wolf and stag should also forge a friendship from an early age, providing a great possibility for mutual understanding in case of future conflicts.
However, Duke Eddard never anticipated that the son of the valiant and martial Robert would turn out to be a complete dandy, full of arrogance. Krell had warned Robb to avoid contact with the royal family, but it seemed to be in vain. Nevertheless, it wasn't entirely incorrect; the old wolf and the old stag were allies, but it was only natural for the young wolf to snarl at a bright young lion.
"Let's go, see what's happening," Krell ordered, and the brightly-armored Hosta, along with two guards, followed.
The journey was short, and when Krell arrived at the entrance of the training ground, he saw two banners hanging on the wall: the crowned stag on the left and the roaring lion on the right. A knight with Lannister family crest on his armor guarded the entrance. Upon seeing Krell and his party approaching, he arrogantly raised his hand and declared, "Halt! Who are you? The princes are sparring with the Stark pups, others are not allowed in."
The frowns on the faces of the group were not due to being obstructed but rather because the Lannister knight kept calling them Stark pups. This was not King's Landing, and being Northerners, such words were particularly grating.
"Ser, insulting the host here is not a wise choice," Krell calmly reminded. The knight had recognized the mermaid crest on Krell and the others but paid it no mind. In his perception, the Lord of White Harbor from the Manderly family was likely still alive, and these individuals were probably from a collateral branch.
Krell's words were intended as a reminder, but in the knight's ears, it became a blatant insult, instantly enraging him.
"Rascal! I'll say whatever I want about these wolf sons, and even if Wyman Manderly comes, I'll still say the same!"
This statement was clearly absurd. If his own lord father were to step in, this young knight would have to obediently clear the way. Faced with the authority of Lord Wyman Manderly, who held the great city and thousands of soldiers in White Harbor, he dared not offend.
As Krell hadn't reacted yet, the two White Harbor guards had strong reactions. Swearing immediately erupted, and one audacious guard's hand was already on the hilt of his sword.
"What are you doing?!" The knight shouted loudly, not slow in drawing a beautifully crafted longsword the next moment, its gleaming tip pointed directly at Krell's eyes.
"You're asking for it." Krell muttered quietly. He detested anyone pointing a sword at him. He had initially intended to defuse the situation, but the other party had escalated it.
Just perfect for a warm-up!
A light sound echoed as Krell swiftly approached the Lannister knight, and as the knight made a move, Krell slapped his carotid artery with force.
The intense pain and the sensation of fainting caused the knight to retreat, losing his grip on the longsword. The sword fell to the ground, and Krell promptly picked it up.
As the knight shook off the dizziness and regained composure, he found his own longsword pointed at him, making him stiffen, too afraid to move.
"Please... please... I beg you." The knight, who had been arrogant just moments ago, couldn't even speak a coherent sentence now. Krell looked at the clownish figure with disinterest.
With a crisp sound, the longsword was sheathed back into the knight's scabbard. Krell's icy voice resonated near the trembling body of the knight:
"It's just a Lannister. Watch out for your head. Without that lion, it's quite unstable."
Having dealt with this minor character, Krell, accompanied by three guards, entered the training ground. Roaring lion banners were erected everywhere, with hardly any sight of the crowned stag and the icy wolf flags. Krell immediately spotted Robb, whose face was turning red, standing in the center of the field. Meanwhile, Crown Prince Joffrey, with his golden hair and blue eyes, sat in a soft chair, mocking Robb unceremoniously.
"Is this how the Starks train?" Joffrey kicked the wooden sword beneath his feet.
"Should we get wooden armor for His Grace, the Crown Prince?" a servant standing nearby interjected with a grin.
"Yes, since this is the sacred sparring of House Stark, let's chop down their heart trees and make a few sets of armor. Leave some for the wolves; maybe they can fashion a few wooden swords as well." Joffrey nodded approvingly, already contemplating whether to send someone to actually cut down the heart trees.
Krell watched Robb, on the verge of exploding, and Ser Rodrik, with growing anger. He finally understood where the cowardice of the guy outside came from – it seemed like the rotten apple didn't fall far from the tree. Krell knew the Lannisters were powerful, but this level of arrogance exceeded his expectations. It was as if they were rubbing the Stark family's face in the mud at the training ground.
Chopping down heart trees was as suicidal as smearing excrement on the statues of the Seven in the South. Krell couldn't help but appreciate Robb and Ser Rodrik's patience. If it were him, the sword would probably be at the throat of the impertinent courtier by now.
After holding back for a while, Robb finally couldn't take it anymore. He forcefully threw down his sword and walked out of the training ground. Behind him, Joffrey's triumphant laughter echoed, "Oh, the Stark warrior is running away!"
Seeing this scene, Krell decided there was no need to go in. He simply turned and went back to the entrance, waiting for Robb to come out. However, before Robb emerged, a guard from House Manderly rushed over, breathless, and without observing proper etiquette, whispered a few words to Krell.
As soon as the words were spoken, Krell's face turned black. He roared at Hosta, "Call everyone! Now!"
Before others could react, Krell, in a fit of rage, asked the guard, "Where is he?"
"Near the blacksmith's shop."
"Get everyone. Surround the blacksmith's shop. I want his head!" Krell roared. At this moment, he looked more like a lion than most people in this city...