Outside Duskendale, bitter winds howled across the vast plain.
Bronn pulled his tattered cloak tighter around himself and stood amid the dark mass of people, stamping his feet against the cold.
Damn those nobles.
He had been lying in a warm haystack, dreaming sweet dreams of those three hundred-odd mu of land and beautiful women.
Only to be rudely awakened by the stupid officers and driven onto this open ground before Duskold Town.
But he soon noticed something strange.
It was not just House Mooton's army. All the Riverlands troops, tens of thousands of soldiers, had been assembled here.
"What the fuck is this madness in the middle of the night?" a veteran beside Bronn muttered bitterly. "The nobles throw a feast, and we don't get to sleep?"
"Shut up, you idiot." Bronn jabbed him with an elbow.
At the very front of the formation of tens of thousands, an enormous wooden platform had been hastily erected.
Dozens of huge braziers burned around the platform, lighting the area as brightly as day.
Rosso Brune strode onto the platform.
Behind him, dozens of burly soldiers struggled to carry heavy chests onto the platform, arranging them neatly in a row.
The plain filled with tens of thousands of men gradually fell quiet, leaving only the wind and the crackling of burning torches.
Everyone craned their necks, staring fixedly at the chests.
Rosso Brune walked to the edge of the platform and looked down over the enormous army.
He did not speak immediately, but slowly drew the longsword at his waist.
Bang!
He smashed the pommel hard against the lock on the first oak chest.
The steel lock snapped at the blow.
Rosso Brune kicked open the heavy lid.
In the firelight, a dazzling, dizzying golden radiance instantly burst forth.
It was gold.