Robin Lygg roared like a wounded beast amidst the ruins.
"He turned everyone into homeless refugees! Then he pretended to give them a little bread! And he expects them to be grateful?"
"Ser Brynden! Did you see that? This is what that Black Lion did!"
Brynden Tully just sat quietly on his horse.
He looked at the ruins, at the wild dogs on the corpses, and the vultures circling in the sky.
His expression remained unchanged; he had seen such scenes too many times. At least, on this journey, there were no scattered, dead bodies everywhere like during the rebellion that overthrew the Mad King.
On the distant horizon, a newly risen column of black smoke twisted its way into the sky.
Brynden Tully reined in his horse, which pawed restlessly at the ground, white vapor snorting from its nostrils.
He pointed his chin towards the black smoke: "Go and check over there!"
Robin Lygg looked at the rising black smoke, his voice hoarse and filled with uncontrollable rage: "It must be his men setting fires again!!!"
The Black Lion ignored his curses. He lightly kicked his horse's belly with his heel, and the warhorse began to walk towards the black smoke.
Robin Lygg gritted his teeth, his curses stuck in his throat, but he eventually spurred his horse to follow.
The scenery along the way was no different from what they had seen before.
Everywhere were the charred ruins of villages, with only large patches of black ash where crops in the fields had been burned.
Vultures circled in the air, making unpleasant cries, and wild dogs moved about, vigilantly watching these uninvited guests, emitting low growls from their throats.
Robin Lygg muttered to himself, his knuckles white from clenching his fists: "My family's land… my family's people…."
Brynden Tully remained silent. His gaze swept over every inch of scorched earth. No emotion could be seen on his weathered face; only his blue eyes showed his inner feelings. All of this had indeed gone far beyond its proper bounds, it was too much.
The closer they got to the black smoke, the stronger the smell of charring in the air. They finally arrived at the source of the black smoke, and the sight before them made the riders stop.
A dozen or so soldiers in chainmail stood in a semicircle, beside a small group of angry refugees. Opposite them, seven or eight men in ragged clothes knelt.
Some soldiers were using torches to set the village on fire, flames burning and emitting thick black smoke.
The men kneeling on the ground looked like starving farmers, their faces covered in dirt and despair.
And behind them, several charred beams had been erected, with crude nooses tied to them, forming a makeshift gallows.
It all looked as if these soldiers were looting and killing resistors. An enraged Robin Lygg was about to stop them from harming civilians, but the Black Lion signaled him to stop. He felt something was amiss; if they intended to loot and kill, they wouldn't spend time and effort building a gallows.
A burly officer, clearly in charge of this dozen-strong chainmail squad, stood at the front of the group. He looked like a veteran, with an old scar running from his forehead to his chin.
He was Del, one of the first old soldiers from Dading City who had been sent to make up the numbers and followed Arthur. Now he was a "Household Head."
He held no sword in his hand, only a blank parchment. Del didn't understand the purpose of holding a blank paper, only knowing that Lord Arthur called it a sense of ritual.
Del's voice was loud, overriding the wind and the crackling of the burning village: "In the name of Lord Arthur!"
He cleared his throat and began to read the accusations from the blank parchment.
"The criminal Bart, stole refugees' packages during the chaos!"
"The criminal Harber, conspired with others to rob refugees of their rations!"
"The criminal Wells, during the robbery, smashed a resisting farmer's head with a stone!"
"The criminal…."
Each time a name was read, a soldier stepped forward and roughly dragged out one of the kneeling men.
Those men began to struggle, uttering indistinct pleas for mercy.
A scrawny man, held up by soldiers, screamed: "We just want to live!"
"The war destroyed everything we had! We have nothing to eat!"
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