A tongue of flame trailed back from the upraised torch as he went. We must ride at once. A small wooden shack stood under the great crane, and Tyrion saw the dull glow of a brazier and felt a brief gust of warmth when the winch men opened the door and went back inside. I also know that Robert has named you Protector of the Realm.
You have my thanks, lady, Tyrion said, mounting up. Its grey stone walls were draped with banners. Only a Stark would be fool enough to threaten where smarter men would beg. You have come too far.
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