Several messengers from the garrison at Willow Town reined in their horses, hooves thudding dully against the muddy ground.
They dismounted, and the sight before them made them catch their breath.
Outside the small castle, bonfires blazed everywhere. Suleiman's army was celebrating, and the air was thick with the savory smell of roasted meat, the sweetness of ale, and the salty scent of sweat.
The soldiers were bare-chested, dancing strange dances around the fires and loudly singing about the Battle of the River Valley. They held up sack after sack,
Something inside the rough sacks clinked with a crisp, tempting sound. Every face was lit with unbridled delight.
One soldier spotted the messengers and walked over, clapping one on the shoulder. He proudly shook open the sack in his hand. "Look at this, my friend!"
"As long as you follow Lord Suleiman, you can have anything!"
The messengers swallowed, their Adam's apples bobbing. They had thought themselves incredibly lucky to be left in the town, spared from fighting and injury. Surely, it had been the best arrangement.
But they hadn't realized that following Lord Suleiman could make them a fortune. A wild, gnawing regret ate at them. Why had they been left behind? Why weren't they among those following Lord Suleiman to storm castles and conquer lands?
Inside the small castle, in the former knight's bedchamber Suleiman had taken over, he was using a quill to sketch something on a map.
If the armies met in battle, he would be short on cavalry. But perhaps he could choose a battlefield of muddy terrain, where cavalry would struggle to charge.
A soldier hurried in and bowed respectfully. His voice cut through the crackle of burning firewood. "My lord, Riverrun's envoy has arrived in Willow Town."
"The envoy is Ser Brynden Tully,