In the entire world, only Valyrian steel was renowned for this kind of material, with the possible exception of a few rare famed swords in Westeros.
Gendry surveyed the camp again. His short, coal-black hair and blue eyes were marks of the bloodline of Storm's End.
A silent party had already formed up, with the exiled Jaime Lannister at its head. Ilyn Payne, Villar, Addam Marbrand, Lyle Crakehall the Strongboar, and others escorted him.
Jaime Lannister had changed into a gray robe-not the white cloak of the Kingsguard, nor the red of House Lannister, but the gray that formed the underlying color of his life.
The citizens and servants of Lannisport and Casterly Rock watched this silent, maimed lion.
"That is Ser Jaime."
"House Lannister's rule is over," the citizens of Lannisport murmured. Many wept in sorrow, and the vast majority of them were women.
Back at the Whispering Wood, when they had heard that Jaime Lannister's hand had been cut off.
And now, they wept a second time for Jaime's tragic fate.
This kinslayer, Kingslayer, and Soiled Knight was also the Lannister lion they had once loved.
Most people in the Westerlands had never loved Tywin. No one truly loved a war machine; they feared it. Yet they were very fond of his Glory Twins.
Once the lion departed, he would never return.
"This is the legacy of eight thousand years of history." Gendry could naturally see the grieving people and understood what was in their hearts.
Some concealed it well, and some did not.
No day was more harrowing than the day one bade farewell to the ancestral temple.
The legacy of an ancient royal house-this was why surnames and inheritance rights were valuable, and why Tywin had once been able to turn the tide with a single