Rushmarsh's Council Chamber was cold with stone walls, warmed only by the flickering flames in the fireplace with a false veneer of warmth.
The long table was draped in an expensive red tablecloth and laden with delicacies brought by merchant ships.
Arbor wine swayed in silver goblets, while the roasted meat glistened with grease, mingling with spices brought from the distant Free Cities.
The Riverlands' vassals arrived one after another, and the air was thick with the mingled scents of fine wine, spices, and grease.
The fat Lord William Mooton of Maidenpool deliberately dragged his heavy oak chair a little closer to the seat of honor after plopping down, producing a harsh scraping sound.
He winked at several lords he knew, the gesture silently flaunting his closeness to the Warden's family.
Walter Whent of House Whent sat quietly in his own seat, his fingers lightly tapping on the tabletop as he assessed everyone present.
At the far end of the table, Quincy Cox, a landed knight from Saltpans, nervously straightened his back.
He looked more like an observer, there to determine how many scraps he might receive rather than to take part in the decision-making.
When Lymond Lychester appeared in the doorway, every conversation in the Council Chamber came to an abrupt halt.
"Warden."
Everyone rose to their feet, from the great lords to the landed knights of remote territories, and bowed their heads in greeting.
Lymond Lychester took his seat in the high-backed chair at the head of the long table.
Suleiman followed closely behind and sat on the right side of the table.
"Please, be seated, my lords."
Suleiman's voice was calm, yet it seemed to lower the temperature of the entire hall by several degrees.
The vassals took their seats in order, forming a hierarchy of power