The Lannister army made camp outside the Gates of the Moon.
Several days passed in a flash.
The replies from the lords of the Vale had yet to arrive, but the scouts' reports came back first.
With the scouts' intelligence on the Vale clutched to his chest, Lancel hurried toward the tent of his father, Kevan Lannister.
At the entrance, he called softly, "Father?"
Once he received an answer, he lifted the flap and went inside.
Kevan was bent over his desk, reviewing document after document by candlelight.
The logistics of the entire army of a hundred thousand rested on his shoulders. The distribution of provisions, the division of the camp, the posting of sentries, the fodder for the horses-every detail required his personal attention.
Seeing Lancel enter, he looked up. "What is it?"
Lancel replied, "Father, the scouts sent to gather intelligence on the Vale have reported back."
Kevan motioned for him to hand over the letter.
Lancel obeyed.
Kevan took the letter and read it, his expression darkening. "How dare House Templeton show such insolence?"
Lancel looked at Kevan curiously, unsure what had angered his father so much.
Kevan handed the letter back to him. "Take this to your uncle."
Lancel's expression froze.
He accepted the letter with both hands, but could not bring himself to move.
He feared his uncle Tywin... he had feared him since childhood.
And that was not all. He had fled King's Landing before it fell to the Targaryens, and he alone had returned alive.
That left him even more ashamed, and even more afraid to appear before Tywin.
He could not help recalling what had happened. Acting on secret instructions from his cousin Cersei, he had replaced King Robert's wine with a stronger vintage, leading to Robert being gravely wounded by a