Игра престолов

Tyrion

           Evenfromafar,hislordfatherwasresplendent.TywinLannister’sbattlearmorputhissonJaime’sgildedsuittoshame.Hisgreatcloakwassewnfromcountlesslayersofcloth-of-gold,soheavythatitbarelystirredevenwhenhecharged,solargethatitsdrapecoveredmostofhisstallion’shindquarterswhenhetookthesaddle.Noordinaryclaspwouldsufficeforsuchaweight,sothegreatcloakwasheldinplacebyamatchedpairofminiaturelionessescrouchingonhisshoulders,asifpoisedtospring.Theirmate,amalewithamagnificentmane,reclinedatopLordTywin’sgreathelm,onepawrakingtheairasheroared.Allthreelionswerewroughtingold,withrubyeyes.Hisarmorwasheavysteelplate,enameledinadarkcrimson,greavesandgauntletsinlaidwithornategoldscrollwork.Hisrondelsweregoldensunbursts,allhisfasteningsweregilded,andtheredsteelwasburnishedtosuchahighsheenthatitshonelikefireinthelightoftherisingsun.

           Tyrioncouldheartherumbleofthefoemen’sdrumsnow.HerememberedRobbStarkashehadlastseenhim,inhisfather’shighseatintheGreatHallofWinterfell,aswordnakedandshininginhishands.Herememberedhowthedirewolveshadcomeathimoutoftheshadows,andsuddenlyhecouldseethemagain,snarlingandsnapping,teethbaredinhisface.Wouldtheboybringhiswolvestowarwithhim?Thethoughtmadehimuneasy.

           Thenorthernerswouldbeexhaustedaftertheirlongsleeplessmarch.Tyrionwonderedwhattheboyhadbeenthinking.

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