Conqueror

The Conqueror

"You seem prepared to die in battle, Ser Blackfish."

The full moon hung high in the sky, casting down a cold silver glow.

The waters of the Red Fork flowed slowly, their surface glittering beneath the moonlight like a giant silver serpent winding through the dark land.

The trees along the bank formed twisted black shadows. The wind passed quietly through them, rustling the leaves.

"Good evening, Brynden Tully."

Brynden studied the man before him and answered in a low voice, "Gryn Crabb."

Gryn nodded slightly, then gazed westward, where Riverrun flickered in and out of sight beneath the moonlight.

After a pause, Gryn's voice rang out. "Will this be the final night?"

Hearing Gryn's seemingly self-directed sigh, Brynden said coldly, "It seems you intend to end this bloody game."

Gryn lifted his face and smiled. "It seems you do not care much for my methods of judgment."

Brynden's eyes darkened. "Judgment?"

Gryn did not answer. He merely gestured to the other side, and Brienne of Tarth immediately walked over.

The tray Brienne carried entered Brynden's sight. Upon it sat bread and salt.

"Perhaps this will lessen your hostility toward me."

Brynden glanced at Gryn. After hesitating briefly, his thick, wrinkled fingers pinched off a small piece of bread. He dipped it in salt and placed it in his mouth.

Beneath the witness of the Gods, Guest Right took effect.

Seeing the complicated look on Brynden's face, Gryn chuckled. "Surprised, old knight who came here to die?"

Brynden: "..."

Gryn continued, "I am surprised as well. I truly did not expect you to come so quickly... so it was not difficult to guess some of your intentions."

"Sure enough, not just anyone can be praised as a famous commander."

Brynden could not help but sigh. After a brief