Game of Thrones: Starting by Escaping with the Mad King

Chapter 211 211: The Incompetent Husband 2.0

"Family…?"

Hearing Manly say that only made the turmoil in Balman's mind grow heavier, more tangled.

His gaze drifted to the girl sitting beside him.

She sat quietly, her slightly plump body appearing clumsy and oversized. Her round face carried a childlike emptiness—blank, unfocused. Her eyes seemed fixed on the flickering candlelight, as though she felt nothing at all about the death of her own sister.

Balman knew of this girl.

Within the family, she was like a living shadow—present, yet forgotten. He had only ever glimpsed her a few times during family gatherings, so briefly that he even had to struggle to recall her name.

Lollys Stokeworth.

Born with a mental deficiency, unloved by her parents.

She had always been deliberately ignored by the family—overlooked, dismissed. Even the servants treated her as if she didn't exist, doing no more than ensuring she stayed alive.

And now…

She was dressed in an expensive silk gown, yet still looked awkward and ill-fitted. Her body trembled slightly—likely from the cold on the way here.

And that dress…

Balman frowned faintly.

It looked like it had once belonged to Falyse.

With effort, he tore his gaze away from Lollys's innocent yet faintly pitiful face, and looked back at Manly—whose eyes flickered with a strange urgency.

Confusion surged within him like a rising tide.

I killed Falyse.

So why… why was Manly not only refusing to pursue the matter, but instead acting so generous—so accommodating?

Why was he trying to bind another daughter to the very man who killed his own?

He had even promised… to let Balman inherit Stokeworth.

"…the Rule of Six…"

Though unable to fully understand, Balman still shook his head stubbornly.

After some time regaining consciousness and receiving treatment, his strength had returned slightly. His speech was still broken, halting—but at least he could now express himself clearly.

"This… is the law… of the realm."

"If it is broken… punishment… must follow."

"As a man… under His Grace, the Regent… I must… lead by example."

Each word came with visible pain, his body trembling with every syllable.

Yet the resolve in his eyes far outweighed the suffering.

Seeing his stubbornness, Manly stared at him intensely—his insides practically boiling over with frustration.

The Rule of Six…

It was a law established long ago by Queen Rhaenys Targaryen, wife of Aegon the Conqueror, together with maesters and septons.

In essence:

A wife must remain faithful and obedient. Adultery is an offense against the Seven, and thus must be punished.

But since the Seven have only seven aspects, punishment is limited to six blows.

Alongside it existed another law—the "Thumb Rule."

Meaning: a husband could not use any rod or implement thicker than his thumb to beat an unfaithful wife. Exceed that, and it becomes a crime.

Clearly, Balman had gone far beyond that limit.

But…

That wasn't the point.

This wasn't why Manly had come here.

He had already lost his position as Commander of the City Watch. His only hope of reclaiming power now lay entirely in this son-in-law.

Yes—this man had killed his "only" daughter.

But compared to power?

What was a daughter worth?

"None of this is your fault, Balman!"

Anxiety gnawed at Manly like a venomous snake, making it nearly impossible for him to maintain his façade of grief.

His brows tightened.

He could not—would not—let this last chance slip away because of Balman's so-called "knightly honor."

"Oh, my dear boy!"

Manly's voice suddenly rose. He practically lunged toward the bed, leaning over Balman, trying to overwhelm him with sheer force of presence.

"I know everything! Every detail!"

"It was Falyse!"

"She broke her sacred vows! She brought that devil into your home! She struck first—you had no choice but to defend yourself!"

His expression became exaggerated, almost theatrical, as if delivering a passionate defense in court.

"You were acting in self-defense!"

"Yes—you killed her. No father can bear the pain of losing a daughter!"

"But that fault lies with her!"

"She committed an unforgivable sin!"

"She betrayed you—and she betrayed the honor of House Stokeworth!"

These righteous, impassioned words slammed into Balman's fragile mind.

He had never expected his father-in-law to be so… reasonable.

To go so far as to use such harsh words to condemn his own daughter—just to clear Balman's guilt.

A storm of emotions flooded him—shock, guilt, confusion.

"No… Father!"

Yet after a brief moment of wavering, Balman tightened his grip on Manly's hand, his resolve hardening once more.

"It was I who killed Falyse… I deserve punishment!"

"No matter what she did… her blood is on my hands!"

"Even if you can forgive me… my soul cannot pretend nothing happened… I cannot, in good conscience, marry Lady Lollys."

"That would be unfair—to her… and to Falyse."

Seeing his son-in-law so utterly immovable, Manly felt the power his wife had so carefully planned slipping through his fingers, bit by bit.

He didn't even dare imagine the fury he would face from Tanda if he failed.

"No! Balman!"

He shook his head frantically, voice rising in desperation.

"This isn't your fault! You shouldn't be punished for this!"

"No, Father—this is my fault!"

"No, it isn't—!"

"Yes, it is!"

"No!!"

Watching the two argue back and forth, old Qyburn's expression turned rather… amused.

He raised an eyebrow.

In all his nearly sixty years of life—decades of wandering after being cast out by the Citadel—he had never seen something quite so… peculiar.

The killer desperately claiming responsibility.

The victim's family just as stubbornly trying to absolve him.

It was…

Well.

If their identities weren't so important, Qyburn might have been tempted to split their skulls open on the spot—just to see what exactly was inside.

Meanwhile, Lollys sat nearby, watching their argument with dull disinterest, idly fiddling with the hem of her dress.

When will we eat…?

I'm so hungry…

"Hey, child."

Qyburn's voice suddenly sounded beside her.

Lollys looked up. Seeing the old maester—his clothes stained with blood, a sharp scalpel still in hand—she instinctively shrank back a little.

"Don't be afraid."

Qyburn casually tossed the scalpel aside and forced a gentle smile, patting her head.

With that faint smile, he almost resembled a kindly grandfather.

"What's your name?"

"Lo… Lollys, my lord…"

"Heh… I'm no 'lord,' Lollys."

Amused by her timid demeanor, Qyburn plopped down beside her and introduced himself casually.

"I'm a maester. Do you know what that is?"

"…No."

"Hah."

Her honest answer made him chuckle softly.

After thinking for a moment, he rummaged through his robes and pulled out a piece of candy wrapped in paper.

"Want this?"

Lollys's eyes widened instantly.

This was something Qyburn had acquired about two months ago—"exchanged" as payment from a devout septon.

"Here."

Seeing her drooling anticipation, he didn't hesitate—he placed the candy directly into her hand.

As she eagerly unwrapped it, he casually reached out and touched her plump cheek.

"What are you doing?"

Her face jiggled slightly as she chewed, eyes still vacant and confused.

Qyburn lifted his fingers to his nose and sniffed lightly.

"Dear child…"

His eyes suddenly flashed with a sharp glint—gone as quickly as it appeared.

Then he leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

"I gave you candy… so that makes us friends now, right?"

"Of course."

Lollys swallowed quickly, almost afraid he might take it back.

Qyburn's eyelid twitched slightly, but he continued.

"Since we're friends, answer me one question."

He pulled out two more candies.

"If you answer, these are yours."

Lollys gulped.

"Before me… has anyone touched—or slapped—your face?"

She frowned, clearly struggling to process the question.

Her mind wasn't exactly… equipped for such complexity.

"It's alright. Take your time."

He kept smiling, holding the candies out enticingly.

If he had seen himself in a mirror, he might have realized—he now looked exactly like the septon whose kidney he had once removed.

"Umm…"

After some effort, Lollys suddenly clapped her hands together.

"It was Mother!"

---

Night

Dragging his exhausted body, Manly returned home.

He staggered through the empty hall. The manor was eerily silent.

His house stood less than half a league from where Falyse had once lived.

Such a short distance—yet separated now by an unbridgeable abyss.

Too much had happened in just a single day.

Stripped of his command.

His daughter dead—killed by his own son-in-law.

Balman gravely wounded.

And Lollys… now reduced to the final pawn in Tanda's desperate bid to cling to power.

Manly felt like a puppet—his strings pulled mercilessly by unseen hands.

He made his way to the inner chamber. The heavy oak door was shut tight.

Hesitating, he gathered his courage and knocked.

"Knock… knock…"

"I… I'm back, Tanda…"

His voice trembled faintly.

No response.

His throat tightened.

"I'm back! Tanda!"

"Shut up, Manly!"

The sharp, impatient voice from inside finally answered him.

He let out a breath of relief.

It was his wife.

But then—

Barlon Greyjoy's words resurfaced in his mind:

"My brother Euron… once he gets his hooks into something, it's like poison in the bones. You can't escape it. That kind of disaster can destroy a family."

"You might want to… keep an eye on your wife, Manly Stokeworth."

Euron Greyjoy…

Falyse's lover.

His wife…?

Impossible.

Ridiculous.

After a moment, the door opened.

Tanda stood there, perfectly composed—nothing out of place.

Manly relaxed.

She glanced at him disdainfully.

"Why are you back so early? Did that idiot agree to marry the fat goose?"

Manly shrank slightly under her gaze.

"I… he's still refusing. But his attitude has softened."

"I'll go again tomorrow… I should be able to persuade him."

Tanda frowned, spitting venom:

"Useless fool! You can't do anything right!"

"Why are you even back? Go watch him! Make him see our sincerity!"

Manly tried to push past her.

"I'll just get some water—"

Slap!

The blow sent him reeling.

"Get lost, you worthless trash!"

"You think you're still Commander of the Gold Cloaks?"

"Go convince him!"

"Use that empty head of yours and make him marry Lollys! This is our last chance!"

"And listen carefully—if I don't see results by tomorrow morning, I'll divorce you and join the Faith!"

Divorce.

The word struck him like lightning.

Among nobles, divorce was almost unheard of—a complete disgrace.

For him, it would mean total ruin.

And she dared to threaten him with it.

Unforgivable.

He sat there, stunned, as the door slammed shut.

His hand tightened around his sword hilt.

Something was wrong.

Everything had spiraled out of control since he lost his position.

"…Watch your wife…"

Barlon's warning echoed again.

Then—

He thought he heard something.

Faint.

Breathing.

Low… rhythmic… unmistakably belonging to a man.

From behind the door.

His heart pounded.

"…Useless…"

he muttered hoarsely.

"I am Manly Stokeworth… a knight—not a coward!"

He stood there, breathing heavily, then suddenly drew his sword—

—but only halfway.

He couldn't do it.

He couldn't kick the door open.

Because he was afraid.

Afraid of seeing the truth.

Afraid of losing everything.

Even if someone told him outright—your wife is inside, with another man—

he still wouldn't have the courage to confirm it.

"I… I'm going to the Red Keep… to watch over Balman!"

He shouted it loudly, as if trying to convince himself.

Then he turned and walked away.

Step by step, humiliation gnawed at his soul.

His titles. His honor. His authority as a husband and father.

All reduced to dust.

The manor, once warm and welcoming, now felt like a prison.

"Damn this winter… damn everything!"

His voice echoed in the empty courtyard.

Silence answered him.

Then—

"Such a pity…"

A voice.

Cold. Mocking.

"Your 'courage' is truly admirable, Ser Manly."

A man.

A stranger.

Manly instinctively tried to draw his sword—

—but it was already too late.

Thud.

A dagger, glowing faintly with a sinister blue sheen, pierced straight through his back—into his heart.

Pain exploded as the poison rapidly corroded his flesh.

His body collapsed forward.

His senses faded.

And as darkness closed in, that voice whispered again:

"Daughter's blood… mother's blood… father's blood…"

A pause.

As if savoring the moment.

Then, accompanied by the distant cry of crows—

"Now… only that fool remains…"

"Ha… ha… ha…"