Night had fallen over Harrenhal, but House Lychester's camp was ablaze with light.
The campfires crackled, sparks shooting into the black night sky. The scent of roasting meat filled the air, while dripping fat hissed as it struck the coals.
The soldiers gathered around the fires, raising cups brimming with ale. Crude songs mingled with uninhibited laughter and curses, echoing through the camp.
Lord Lymond Lychester had been appointed Warden of the Trident by the king.
The news shocked everyone and ignited the passion of every soldier. They were no longer nameless nobodies, no longer subjects attached to a mad old man.
They were now the subjects and soldiers of the Warden of the Trident.
"Cheers to the Warden!"
"Cheers to Lord Suleiman!"
"Cheers to House Lychester!"
Cheers rose one after another.
Rosso Brune grabbed a huge roasted leg of lamb and sank his teeth into it, grease spilling from his mouth.
He wiped the grease from the corner of his lips with the back of his hand and turned his gaze toward the silent burly man beside him.
Bryn sat on the ground with his back perfectly straight, like a silent stone statue. Firelight danced across his bronze skin, yet it could not melt the eternal frost on his face.
Rosso Brune pointed at the celebrating soldiers around them with the roasted leg of lamb. "Bryn, look at them."
"Our good days are here."
Bryn did not respond. His calm gaze remained fixed on the dancing flames, and no one knew what he was thinking.
Rosso Brune leaned closer and lowered his voice, his tone filled with irrepressible excitement and emotion.
"I used to think that as long as a man worked hard enough, he could always make something of himself."
"My father died, and my kin drove me