13/05/2026 18:17

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Maester Luwin made a little boy of clay, baked him till he was hard and brittle, dressed him in Bran's clothes, and flung him off a roof. It was the wrong thing to say. When Rhaegar fell, many threw down their weapons and fled the field. He looked bored.

Dead, agreed Jhiqui. And this one? Quent jerked a thumb toward Osha. I shall tell Maester Luwin to send his swiftest bird. Yoren would do nothing.