Inside a guest room in Valleydeep Town.
Suleiman leaned against the window, gazing at the clear sky outside.
His fingers kept tapping the windowsill as he considered his next move.
Every step was perilous. He had turned a journey to certain death into a journey toward power.
Lady Roslin had likely once been unable to sleep because of the Wildlings. Now, she was unable to sleep because of him.
"Hey! Suleiman! I got someone to make you something good!"
The voice arrived before the man did.
Bronn pushed the door open without a shred of courtesy, mysteriously rummaging through his clothes.
He pulled out a dark crimson family sigil and handed it to Suleiman.
"What is this..." Suleiman accepted it with some distaste.
Suleiman's eyes widened. Against the deep dark-red background was a black lion's head with bared fangs. The lion's mane was drawn in rough lines like thorns, while its gaping jaws were unusually wide, nearly filling the entire head. Four sharp fangs showed within, radiating murderous intent.
"It's much blacker than a golden lion, isn't it?" Bronn grinned. "I paid a hefty price for this! The materials are all top quality!"
In truth, he had merely held a knife to a Valleydeep Town craftsman's neck and had it made in half a day, but that was not important!
Bronn held out his hand.
"I never asked you to make something like this, did I?" Suleiman examined the sigil from side to side. "Besides, where I come from, if you don't have the aura and destiny for it, you can't hold down something like this."
This lion was far too ferocious.
It did not suit his identity or temperament.
"Are you joking?" Bronn stared at Suleiman with wide eyes. "You piled those Wildling heads into a mountain. That's far