Several messengers from Willow Wood City, who had been left behind, reined in their horses, their hooves making dull thuds on the muddy ground.
They dismounted, and the sight before them made their breaths catch.
Outside the small castle, bonfires were lit everywhere, and Arthur's army was celebrating. The air was filled with the aroma of roasted meat, the sweet scent of ale, and the salty smell of sweat.
Soldiers, stripped to the waist, danced strangely around the bonfires, loudly singing about the Battle of the River Valley, holding up burlap bags.
Something inside the rough burlap bags clinked, making a clear, enticing sound, and everyone's face was beaming with unbridled ecstasy.
A soldier, seeing the messengers arrive, walked over and patted one of them on the shoulder, triumphantly shaking open the burlap bag in his hand: "Look at this! My friend!"
"As long as you follow Lord Arthur, you can have anything!"
The messengers swallowed, their Adam's apples bobbing. They had initially thought their luck was too good, that being left in the city was the best arrangement, as they wouldn't have to fight or get injured.
But they never expected that following Lord Arthur could lead to such great wealth. A wild, regretful, and annoyed emotion gnawed at their hearts: why were they left behind? Why weren't they among those who followed Lord Arthur in conquering cities and strongholds?
Inside the small castle, in the former knight's bedroom now occupied by Arthur, he was using a quill to sketch something simple on a map.
If the armies were to face off, he was very short on cavalry, but perhaps he could choose a battlefield with muddy terrain that was unfavorable for cavalry charges.
A soldier quickly entered, saluted respectfully, his voice cutting through the crackle of burning wood: "My Lord, the envoy from Riverrun has arrived at Willow Wood City."
"The representative is Sir Brynden Tully, the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands's younger brother."
Arthur turned to look at the soldier, frowning slightly. "Really, why did the Riverrun envoy arrive so late?"
He stood up and said, "Lucien!"
Lucien emerged from the shadows outside the door, still diligently performing his duties as Arthur's guard, his armor making a slight rubbing sound: "Here! Lord Arthur!"
Arthur finally looked up, his gaze as sharp as a blade: "Send someone to keep a close watch on the remaining vassals of the Legge Family."
"Report any disturbance immediately."
"If there is any troop movement, do not engage them. Retreat from here and return to Willow Wood City!"
"Yes, My Lord!" Lucien turned and left, his steps steady.
Arthur turned to look at Olivier, who was sitting nearby handling documents: "Come, Olivier, let us go meet the legend of the Riverlands."
He took only Olivier and a dozen of his most elite riders, returning to Willow Wood City.
Along the way, Olivier constantly recited noble etiquette, but Arthur didn't hear a word of it. He took a deep breath and walked into Willow Wood City's temporary command hall.
Arthur pushed open the heavy door, and light flooded in, silhouetting several figures.
The elderly man at the forefront was tall, with gray hair and beard, but his back was ramrod straight. His deep blue eyes were like the river water beneath Riverrun, seemingly calm but with hidden currents. He wore a simple chainmail, bearing the marks of age and war.
Arthur instantly guessed his identity: Brynden Tully, the legendary Black Lion of the Riverlands. Their gazes met in the air.
He could feel the calm, seasoned aura emanating from the other man, like a stubborn rock at the bottom of a river, unyielding despite the buffeting waves.
The Black Lion was also observing him. He was too young. The young man before him was even calmer than rumored. There was no bloodthirsty madness in those black eyes, as reported by the ravens, only a strange, unfathomable feeling.
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