Lord Hoster smiled. The ones who did come back had seen nothing. Then Grand Maester Pycelle was looming over him, holding a cup, whispering, Drink, my lord. 504 GEORGE R.
He leaned back and closed his eyes, inutterably weary. He always did. In the dream his friends rode with him, as they had in life. Oh, look what they did, look what they did.
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