He knew exactly what that sheen was.
It was the sheen unique to Valyrian steel: dark gray, clear and bright, with a texture like ripples on water when the light struck it.
A thousand years without rust, ten thousand without dulling.
A Valyrian steel sword hung at his waist. He treasured it, carefully polishing and handling it every day.
He could recognize that sheen with his eyes closed.
He stared at the sword, unable to tear his gaze away.
When his father had given him House Corbray's ancestral sword, Lady Forlorn, it had provoked his elder brother Lyonel's resentment.
He had always taken pride in that.
But what if he could get this sword? What if House Corbray could possess two Valyrian steel swords?
No, not House Corbray.
He, Lyn Corbray, would possess two Valyrian steel swords.
He drew a deep breath, suppressing the greed surging within him.
Ignoring both the innkeeper, who was still babbling, and whatever the little girl had just said, he spoke directly, his voice steady but brooking no argument:
"I trust you understand the crimes you have committed. For wantonly causing trouble and provoking others on Corbray lands, our laws give me the right to behead you."
He paused, his gaze settling on the sword.
"But I'm in a good mood today, so I'll give you a chance. You there, with the white hair-hand over your sword."
"I'll pretend none of this happened today, and you can leave House Corbray's lands unharmed."
The hall fell silent for a moment.
Arya froze.
She looked at Lyn, then back at Aegon, unable to understand why this nobleman had suddenly turned on him.
Brienne frowned as well. Her hand remained firmly on her sword hilt.
Aegon sat there, showing no intention of speaking.
He even picked up his