Dragon and lion-fish, falcon, wolf, stag, lion

Deep in the forest.

An army was swiftly withdrawing.

The disarray of defeat made the army look no different from a band of brigands.

At last, they stopped.

The exhausted men slid down against tree trunks, too spent to move a single finger.

Will approached Patrick Morrison, who was leaning against an old tree, staring blankly into the dark woods.

His hair, suddenly turned white far beyond his years, looked painfully stark beneath the pallid moonlight.

"Lord Morrison."

Will spoke softly, afraid of shattering the young man before him, once so spirited, now seemingly forty years older.

"According to Lord Suleiman's earlier orders, if the battle went against us, we were to fall back to Harrenhal and request his aid."

"Shall we gather the troops and march for Harrenhal now?"

Patrick Morrison's eyes moved slowly.

He shook his head, his voice as faint as a breeze.

"Harrenhal has been in ruins for centuries. There's no way to defend it."

He raised a hand and pointed at the soldiers around them, dressed in rags like brigands.

"We have barely over a thousand men left."

"If we're besieged in Harrenhal, the castle will fall within days, and we'll all die."

"Our last remaining fighting force will be lost."

The officers who had gathered around remained silent, their faces wearing the same troubled expression.

Will looked at Patrick Morrison and drew a deep breath.

"Lord Suleiman appointed you governor of the West Riverlands, with full authority to act without seeking approval."

"Just tell us what we should do now."

All eyes turned to him again. Patrick Morrison fell silent.

He remained silent so long that Will thought he had fallen asleep.

Patrick Morrison closed his eyes, the crushing defeat replaying endlessly in his mind.

After a long while, he opened them again.

The