Hearing Gryn's words, a blaze of fury suddenly erupted in Stannis's chest, twisting his features. "Robert was a fool!"
Gryn smiled, then nodded in agreement. "But he was your father's Lawful Heir, and he won the Iron Throne for House Baratheon. That is why you were qualified to inherit his power."
After a slight pause, he added, "Of course, that was before the Targaryens returned to the Iron Throne."
Stannis: "..."
Oppressive silence spread between them. Then Gryn's voice drifted over once more. "Lord Stannis, it seems you are prepared to take your final bow."
Recovering himself, Stannis slowly lifted his head and gazed at the sky above, gradually shrouded in dark clouds. The gray sky was like a heavy curtain.
His thin lips parted. "Today is fine weather for entering the Stranger's embrace."
As he spoke, his gaze shifted to Gryn. "Crabb, you have never defeated me openly and fairly. You only know how to hide in the shadows and employ those underhanded tricks."
Seemingly guessing what Stannis was about to say, Gryn extended a hand and casually ran his fingertips through the mane of the black horse beneath him. "I thought that, at a time like this, you might spare some concern for your only bloodline."
Shirei...
Stannis froze briefly. His teeth ground with an audible creak, and his body trembled faintly with extreme fury. "Crabb!"
The horse being stroked by Gryn snorted contentedly and lightly shook its head.
Ignoring Stannis's anger, Gryn's tone remained calm. "I am not Robert, nor am I Tywin."
He paused, his voice carrying a hint of reflection. "Robert and Tywin directly trampled upon the traditional honor of the Seven Kingdoms. Both committed unforgivable sins."
Stannis's jaw worked stiffly a few times. There was less fury in him now, but more unconcealed resentment.