Ravens are brought down . Her handmaid Irri and the young archers of her khas were fluid as centaurs, but Viserys still struggled with the short stirrups and the flat saddle. Sweet, sweet wine. The watchers moved forward together, as if some signal had been given.
Knights called out to him as he cantered past, and men-at-arms gaped at the clansmen in open astonishment. You shall be our champion. Septon Celladar was swinging a censer, filling the air with fragrant incense that reminded Jon of Lady Stark's little sept in Winterfell. A light snow had begun to fall, and everyone was in an uproar to be off.
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