Oh, I don't deny he's loyal to Robert, that's obvious. The south is a nest of adders I would do better to avoid. Who will I practice with? You'll find someone, Jon promised her. Even his lance was fashioned from the golden wood of the Summer Isles.
Littlefinger walked his horse forward, step by careful step. He raised his hand to summon a servant with a flagon of iced surnmerwine, and poured her a cup. Boy, how did you come here? You have no business in this part of the castle. Robb knew something was wrong.
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