Clang!
The shrill crash of metal echoed through the valley like a thunderbolt on a clear late autumn day.
The green-eyed crow seemed startled. With the clash of arms and trampling hooves below, only the sky felt safe. It beat its wings desperately, trying to take flight, only to tumble off the bed and hit the ground with a thud.
Clang! Clang!
Two more piercing impacts snapped Tyrion fully awake. He was not a crow. Last night's tangled passion had not carried him into any such dream. He was still in the camp outside the Gates of the Moon. Sansa poked her head out from the bed, looking down at her husband sprawled on the floor, her face drawn with exhaustion.
"What is it? What's that noise outside?"
Clang!
The mountains felt as though they might collapse. The earth trembled. Tyrion's ears rang and his heart hammered in his chest. The sound alone was enough to drive a man mad.
"Podrick!" He snatched up his trousers. "Podrick!" Only after shouting twice did he remember that Pod had been sent to King's Landing with a letter.
"Edric!" he corrected himself quickly.
No answer.
By the time he had pulled on his boots and rushed out of the tent, Hoster Blackwood came running over, rubbing his eyes.
"My lord! What is it, my lord?"
Dawn had only just broken. The sun showed a thin sliver above the horizon, and the land lay under a gray haze. Soldiers, squires, knights, and hedge knights spilled out of their tents in every direction.
"What's happening?"
"What's going on?"
Men ran through the camp, buckling armor and grabbing spears from racks. Some leaned into tents to drag others awake. Others shoved breakfast into their mouths, chewing while relieving themselves against tree roots.
"Calm down! Stay calm!" Tyrion shouted at the moving crowd. "Hoster, find me a horse. I need to quiet these idiots before the whole camp panics."
Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!
The sound grew faster and sharper. Cavalry rode hard through the camp. Tyrion recognized the Riverrun guards. Blackfish reacted at once, sending them to patrol on horseback and keep order.
At last a squire brought a mount. Unfortunately, it was a pack mule. Tyrion kicked it in irritation and cursed the boy as a slow-witted fool before hauling himself up. All the commanders were gathered at the camp gate, and his annoyance flared that no one had come to fetch him sooner.
"Are we under attack?" he demanded, riding closer to Bronze Royce.
Bronze stared, tapping the mule beneath Tyrion, then flicking his gaze to Tyrion's loose shirt and unbelted breeches.
"Not a raid, my lord," Yohn Royce said. "Someone has gone out to challenge Lyn Corbray to a duel."
Clang!
The sound rang out again, even harsher so close to the gate.
"I forbade unauthorized combat," Tyrion growled. The mule shifted uneasily beneath him, snorting and pawing at the dirt as if it sensed his anger. "Who's gone off to die this time? And what in the Seven Hells is making that noise?"
"I can't think of any weapon that could clash with Lyn's Lady Forlorn for that long," said Brynden Tully. "Tyrion, where is Sansa's sword?"
"Edric isn't here," Tyrion said. "He's my attendant. I don't know where he's gone… Taking Ice to duel Lyn Corbray? Unlikely. He's only twelve."
"Maybe it's Brienne," Borrn said. "She's been itching for a fight. If they were wrestling in the mud with warhammers, I swear that she-bear could crush Lyn in three minutes. But with swords…"
"Who are you calling a she-bear?"
Brienne's voice came from behind them.
"Me, sneaking out of camp and disobeying orders just to duel some scrawny pretty boy? What kind of person do you think I am?"
"Good. Very good," Tyrion said, clapping his hands. "It's a relief to know someone here still listens to my orders."
He turned to Timett.
"My one-eyed brother, perhaps after today we can finally make it clear who is actually in command of this Lannister-Valyrian alliance."
Bronze stiffened.
"My lord, do you truly believe this man is a knight of the Vale?"
"What else would he be?" Tyrion shot back. "And I have no intention of wasting more time. At dawn tomorrow we march. We cut off Ironoaks from Old Anchor and split the Vale apart…"
"I object," Yohn Royce said. "Lady Waynwood is not our enemy…"
"See?" Tyrion spread his hands. "This is exactly my point. This coalition has no single commander to control the whole. That's why we're stuck here, unable to move forward and settle anything."
He looked around the group.
"Have scouts been sent to see who is actually dueling Lyn Corbray?"
"I sent riders," Brynden Tully said. "They haven't returned yet."
"Anyone sent out will wait until the duel is finished before coming back," Bronn added. "Everyone loves a good show, especially when it's the Vale's strongest swordsman."
"And that's how rumors spread," Tyrion said. "Gather the men. We ride out now and crush them."
"No," Bronze said flatly. "Valyrians do not turn their blades on one another."
"Right," Tyrion replied. "And by that logic, no one in the Seven Kingdoms should ever draw steel. What do you say we both run for High Septon at the Great Sept of Baelor? Which of us should join the Poor Fellows? A Lannister certainly doesn't smell like poverty."
"Enough," Brandon Tully said, cutting them off. "Stop arguing over nonsense. Haven't you noticed? The noise has stopped."
Only then did they realize the clashing of metal had been silent for some time.
Tyrion swung down from the mule. He needed a proper warhorse.
Just then, a rider entered the camp at a slow pace. Tyrion raised a hand to shield his eyes from the rising sun, unable to see the man's face clearly.
White armor. White cloak. As pure as snow, now splattered with blood.
"My lord!"
Edric Dayne's voice rang out. He rode behind the white-cloaked knight, Ice strapped across his back, with Podrick Payne alongside him.
"My lord, Lyn Corbray is dead!"
Thud.
A blood-soaked head was tossed from the knight's hand, rolling to a stop at Tyrion's feet.
Brown hair clotted with blood framed a twisted yet unmistakably handsome face. A heartbeat later, a sword was thrown down beside it. A ruby gleamed at the end of the hilt.
Lady Forlorn.
"You are…" Tyrion narrowed his eyes at the white-cloaked knight. As the rider drew closer, his mouth fell open in shock.
"What, you don't recognize me?"
The knight removed his helm. Golden hair caught the morning light.
"Brother."
...
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