The army marched toward Harrenhal. Soldiers trudged along the muddy road, splashing murky water in every direction.
Suleiman reined in his horse and gazed at the familiar outline in the distance: the edge of his own lands.
Patrick Mallister and Dain Deddings rode close on either side of him.
A dozen or so riders galloped toward them from the horizon. Their leader was a thin man: the beggar Bana.
Olivier rode beside him, still maintaining his aristocratic elegance. He took his time, but never let his horse fall behind the others.
The beggar Bana swung down from his horse and bowed respectfully. His voice brimmed with delight and excitement. "Lord Suleiman!"
"Come closer and speak," Suleiman said calmly, though with a hint of warmth.
The beggar Bana didn't even bother to wipe the sweat from his face. He hurried forward. "My lord, not long after you left, two small bands of Ironborn invaded our lands."
"Lushen and Roslyn gathered the men and fought them..."
Suleiman's expression immediately turned serious. "What were the casualties?"
The beggar Bana realized that his excitement had left him panting too hard to finish. He quickly added, "A great victory, my lord!"
"Roslyn and Lushen were both wounded, though, and are having trouble getting around. They're recovering now, which is why they couldn't come welcome you."
Suleiman's tense shoulders relaxed.
He let out a soft breath, as if a burden had lifted from his heart. "As long as they're all right. Nothing matters more than being alive."
What was scarcest in this world? Loyal followers. Roslyn and Lushen were the first two men to pledge themselves to him. They might not be especially capable, but their loyalty was unquestionable.
Seeing that Suleiman had relaxed, the beggar Bana changed the subject, admiration showing on his face. "My