The dungeons of the Twins were damp and cold.
Bana the Beggar was cold, hungry, and thirsty.
He had completely lost track of how long he had been there. In the darkness, the days had lost all meaning. He could only roughly estimate the passage of time by counting how often the guards tossed in a moldy loaf of black bread.
Every time he chewed the dry, hard bread, he thought of the moment he had been captured.
The soldiers of House Frey had guessed why he was crossing the river. The war had already begun, and if he wasn't headed north, the only reason to cross the river was to go to Lord Suleiman's lands.
For some reason, the officer in command had ordered their arrest outright.
And that slippery bastard Bronn had sensed the danger before House Frey's soldiers appeared. While Bana was dealing with them, Bronn had already vanished.
He tried to sit up. Death itself didn't frighten him. What frightened him was having betrayed Lord Suleiman's trust.
This was the first important task his lord had given him, and he had botched it. His lord had given him everything, yet he couldn't even manage such a simple task. Shame gnawed at him.
Heavy footsteps sounded from the end of the darkness.
The cell door swung open. Bana and the few smallfolk who had followed him instinctively raised their arms, trying to shield their eyes from the sudden blaze of torchlight.
A guard prodded Bana with the butt of his spear. "Get up! Lord Walder wants to see you!"
"Get up! Move!"
Bana's legs had long since gone numb. He tried to stand, but nearly fell at once. The guard had no patience. Two men came over, took him by the arms, and hauled him out of