Servants moved back and forth, feeding logs to the fire and boiling wine. It wasn't actually true yet, but it would be. It was a plump one, speckled brown, busily pecking at a crust that had fallen between two cobblestones, but when Arya's shadow touched it, it took to the air. He woke gasping, lost in darkness, and saw a vast shadow looming over him.
He strode from the tent. You will recall, I said as much in council. Jon's mare snorted. She did not know what was more satisfying: the sound of a dozen swords drawn as one or the look on Tyrion Lannister's face.
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