As Suleiman's words fell, the spacious archery range sank into dead silence.
The air seemed to freeze, thick with the scent of gunpowder. The noble spectators held their breath, while some timid ladies quietly rose and left in small, hurried steps under the escort of gentlemen.
The Vale nobles' faces turned livid, as though they had swallowed an entire block of ice.
The histories of their houses, so carefully wrapped in honor and time, were stripped bare at this moment, exposed bloody and raw before everyone.
Jarell Grafton's lips moved as he tried to break the suffocating silence.
He cleared his throat. His voice was hoarse, but he forcibly kept his tone steady. "What Grand Maester Pycelle spoke of is history—an age of savagery from thousands of years ago."
"Besides, there is no way to verify whether those histories are even true."
Leonor Corbray immediately seized upon that lifeline.
His voice was sharp, filled with the urgency of someone who had been offended. "Exactly! And the First Men of that era were no different from beasts!"
"They ate raw flesh and drank blood! They even ate living people! They offered human sacrifices to the trees in the forests!"
His gaze swept across the crowd, his contempt utterly undisguised. He had no idea what a colossal mess his words had created.
"Before our ancestors came, they were nothing but Wildlings untouched by civilization! No different from the savage clans in the mountains today!"
"We brought knights! We brought civilization!"
"Perhaps the Mountain Clans are their direct descendants! A stubborn lot who rejected the Seven and Andal civilization!"
Bronze Yohn Royce, Lord of Runestone, let out a low roar. His weathered face had flushed red. "Corbray! What the fuck did you just say!"
Jon Arryn's eyes widened in shock. This fool—did he