Of course, Roose only remembered him as the man Robb wanted to hang for ignoring gang rapes. "You served with at Mar's Hold, near Raventree did you not Olgan?" The former sergeant was astonished to be remembered by the highborn. The sunburst on the tall, burly man's polished mail marked him as a Karhold man. Rest assured they will receive prompt refreshment," spoke the other man present. "If you would kindly follow us, my Lord Bolton. As a glorified paid hostage the Brave Companion had little option but to follow the mummer's act. Timeon and almost everyone else here only still lived with all their parts intact by the bastard's sufferance.Īny form of "backsliding" or disrespect would have dire consequences for the offender.Īs a whole Roose would have been impressed with Timeon's command of common had he not known the Stark bastard had tired of his "fucking ignorance" and drilled the Dornish turd in proper manners. "Of course my Lord," the ugly, if clean shaven man replied with what Roose could tell was sincere contrition. It chaffed him that the Starks believed you could polish turds and gain anything of value.Īnd having experienced Ramsay, Roose knew that for certain. "I think you mean the Lord Marshall awaits me," Bolton corrected. "My Lord Bolton, the Marshall awaits your report," the somewhat short man spoke in a curt manner. Timeon's short spear was held with the practiced ease of a veteran. Roose would not have bothered to remember his name, save for what appeared to be a miraculous change in his personality in so short a time and the current situation. The sentry spoke with a very strong Dornish accent and had a faded tan. If Roose had to guess he was between five and twenty and thirty name days. He was challenged about twenty meters from the twelve foot tent with eight poles by Timeon. Attention to small detail was one of the few things the Lord of the Dreadfort appreciated about his "commander." Thus, Roose and every other warrior in the host practiced discipline in all things.Īfter all, improperly maintained equipment very well could fail or give away one's position thereby earning the laggard and his companions swift death.Ī force engaging in what the arrogant pup named "asymmetric warfare" should heed that maxim doubly so. Such a breach of protocols in the field warranted stiff punishments. Neither Bolton or his accompanying guard's harness clinked noticeably during their approach. Roose Bolton approached the canvas command tent of the so called "Marshall of the East" Jon Stark, Lord of Dyre Hallow. Outside Harrenhall, about one kilometer from the Tower of Ghosts
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