Stone steps curved up into the keep’s guts, each one worn smooth in the center where centuries of boots had tramped the same path. Even as he snuck from alcove to alcove, ducking away and hiding in shadows, Greg couldn’t help but wince every other second at the sound of the scrape of his armor…
The first dying scream was a wet, choked-off thing, cut short before it could properly curdle the air. Greg didn’t need to see who it belonged to; the sound already too familiar. The gold-cloaked guards hit their whole group like a breaking wave, an ugly snarling tsunami of steel and leather that slammed into the…
A crumbling wall pressed against his shoulder as Greg studied the maze ahead, the city sprawling like someone had taken medieval city planning and fed it through a blender. Evening sun bled orange through smoke that made everything look sepia. It would have been pretty and pastoral, a medieval kingdom like this, if it wasn’t…
Greg settled back against the weirwood’s trunk, white bark smooth and cold under his back, red leaves rustling overhead. It was amazing how creepy these trees were, like exceptionally weird down to the blood-looking streaks of red and the bone-white bark, and that wasn’t even factoring in the faces. Should’ve picked literally any other tree…
Parchment, ink, and barely contained incompetence; a stench that filled the command tent and tightened the grimace the Lannister lord wore. Maps spread across the oak table like wounds, forces falling and falling with each report, each excuse, each failure of basic discipline and order. Candles burned low, casting harsh shadows on faces that carried…
Cloud’s hooves beat as the horse clopped forward, steady but not at all slow. Five days out from Riverrun. It was almost mind-numbingly annoying how insane it was how much time it took to travel without a car. Horses were fast, kinda, but horses needed sleep and food and rest time on top of that…
Seawater stung at his face, salt and spray forcing him to blink, as the letter from Robb crumpled in his grip. The parchment was long damp with sea mist, ink bleeding at the edges. Robb’s trust, he thought the words as his fingertips pressed harder against the words. Pyke was as he remembered it, the…
“H-happy birthday to me…” The fire crackled in the center of their camp, orange light doing that weird dance thing flames always did when you stared too long. Most of the Stark men-at-arms had already rolled into their bedrolls hours ago, snoring like a bunch of broken lawn mowers. Tomard Snow and Wat huddled together…
The oak groaned under his gauntlets, or maybe that was just the sound his jaw made when he clenched it too hard. Five and a half months of this shit. Fingers drumming against wood because sitting still felt like admitting defeat, and Greg Veder didn’t do defeat. Not anymore. Not since— Focus. The great hall…
The Onion Knight stood on the eastern ramparts, salt wind cutting through Davos’ woolen cloak as it did every morning. Below, gulls noisily dove at the corpse-meat scattered across the black rocks, and as it had these past few days, the smell rose with the tide, the familiar stench of iron and rot. Three days…
