"Th-this... it's too much, far too much."
The weathered old hunter was uneasy. This southern king was simply too generous.
Their task had only been to harass the enemy; it was hardly dangerous enough to deserve such a hefty reward.
Yet as he gazed at that glittering sea of gold, the greed buried within the old hunter's wrinkles stirred like a tiny flame, quietly licking at his heart.
With these Gold Dragons, their families would be able to survive the bitter winter in peace...
Gryn's eyes seemed to see straight through the old hunter's thoughts. He said frankly, "This is your home ground. I need you to serve me wholeheartedly, and I will reward you handsomely."
As soon as the words fell, the old hunter's tense shoulders visibly relaxed.
His rough palm slammed heavily against his rock-solid chest. All his earlier unease vanished as he shouted, "Your noble and merciful Majesty, please rest assured! By the Old Gods, we swear on our lives that we will not disappoint you!"
Stannis's temporary camp.
The soldiers were still busy in the night. Some bent over, chopping the rotten wood they had gathered; others fed their horses the last of the dry hay. But more simply huddled around the burning campfires, the crimson firelight reflecting on their faces without warming the numbness in their eyes.
The exhaustion filling their bodies and minds had left them with only one thing—a primal desire to survive.
Stannis's tent stood at the center of the camp. Having drained a skin of foul-tasting strong liquor, he sat in a folding chair with his eyes closed, feigning sleep.
As the night deepened, the cold grew ever more biting.
Other than the soldiers on watch, everyone else squeezed into the uniformly arranged tents. Several men curled up beneath a