Harrenhal was exceptionally lively at night.
Amidst the all-night revelry, opponents who had been fighting to the death in the daytime now sat together. Knights and mercenaries had their arms slung around each other's shoulders, while rogues and young lords conversed intimately. For the moment, there was no need to worry about class or status. Gulping down strong liquor, they boasted to one another of their grand exploits.
The silver-haired foreigner was no exception. Anyone wishing to strike up a conversation with him would take one look at the half-naked girl in his arms, share a knowing look, raise a cup to him, and toss out a casual toast: "To fine wine and victory."
Chapter 144