Raventree Hall's ancient walls stood before them, slick moss covering their stonework.
Two massive square towers guarded the gates, while a watchtower stood at every corner of the walls, protecting the castle.
Within, they could just make out a cave-like wooden keep and a godswood.
Suleiman reined in his warhorse. His gaze passed over the battlements and settled on the godswood. There, a gigantic, pale, long-dead Weirwood watched the newly arrived army in silence.
He raised a hand, signaling the army to halt outside the castle. Dust stirred by hooves and footsteps slowly settled. His troops stood in orderly ranks, a stark contrast to the desolate lands of House Blackwood, ravaged by war.
Lord Tytos Blackwood came out to meet him with several of his sons. Though many days had passed since they last met, his figure was unchanged; only the lines of worry etched across his face had deepened.
He did not like Suleiman. The young man was capable, but his lack of respect for tradition and apparent disdain for honor repelled him.
Recent rumors about Suleiman had only made matters worse. He had forced the Ironborn to choose between death and conversion, and his methods were far too cruel and brutal.
Tytos Blackwood did not believe Suleiman was a religious fanatic. It seemed more like he was using religion to serve his political image.
But as a devout follower of the Old Gods, Tytos instinctively did not want an army already known as fanatical followers of the Faith of the Seven entering his castle. He was even less willing to let them set foot in the sacred godswood.
Tytos Blackwood walked up to Suleiman. His voice was steady and his manners impeccable, but wariness and distance lingered in his eyes. "Suleiman, welcome to Raventree Hall."
Suleiman swung down