The Lannister army spread out at the foot of the Giant's Lance.
The red ranks formed a burning river of steel, pouring out of the Eyrie, advancing down the mountain road in successive waves, and forming up on the open ground below.
Red banners billowed in the wind, their golden lions gleaming coldly in the sunlight.
The army of the Lords Declarant stood ready for battle.
Nearly ten thousand Vale soldiers gripped their weapons, their eyes fixed on that sea of red.
The two sides faced off at the foot of the Giant's Lance.
The air seemed frozen, with only the wind threading through the valley.
Under the grave gazes of Yohn Royce and the others, a gap opened in the Lannister formation.
Tywin Lannister rode out through the ranks on his white horse.
Petyr Baelish followed on a fine brown horse, a polite smile on his face, as though everything was under control.
Littlefinger rode a few paces forward, his gaze sweeping over the familiar faces opposite him: Yohn Royce, Anya Waynwood, Jasper Hunter, Beneda Belmore, and Symond Templeton.
The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, and he spoke with deliberate nonchalance. "My lords and lady, it has been some time. I hear you've been waiting here for me for over a month. I feel dreadful about it."
"As you can see, I came down to meet you as soon as I had a moment to spare."
He paused, looking around at their faces. "Well? Didn't you all want an explanation from me? Here I am. If you have something to say, say it to my face."
"Or can you only gossip behind my back, with nothing to say when I'm standing before you?"
Yohn Royce's expression darkened.
He ignored Littlefinger, looking past him directly at Tywin, and raised