The Darry contingent set up camp in an open area near the river and began to rest.
As the sun set, the soldiers gathered around bonfires, cleaning their equipment and discussing the impending battle.
However, inside Raymun Darry's tent, the atmosphere was unusually tense.
Raymun Darry sat formally on a simple wooden chair, having summoned his vassals and principal knights.
He was only twenty-four this year, appearing too young and too silent in front of his weathered vassals and knights, who were much older than him.
Most of the vassals and knights beside him harbored a slight disdain for their young lord.
They sat around, and without waiting for Raymun Darry to speak, they began to argue fiercely among themselves.
The discussion revolved around the slow pace of their advance; everyone was eager to reach the battlefield quickly, slay the Ironborn, and earn military honors to receive rewards from Lord Tully and King Robert, who was far away in King's Landing.
Their voices were so chaotic and loud that they completely disregarded their Lord Raymun Darry, as if he were merely an irrelevant bystander.
"In my opinion, we should march at once, ahead of the other lords! Why are we stopping here?" a bearded knight shouted.
"Exactly! Whoever arrives first will be the first to earn military honors!" another knight in plate armor echoed.
The noise and arguments inside the tent grew louder.
Until Ser Joses, a short, stout man with a sharp voice, spoke loudly!
It was hard to imagine such a corpulent person having such a sharp voice, so much so that all eyes turned to him.
Seeing everyone's gaze shift to him, he spoke without mercy:
"Hmph! House Darry, in the rebellion to overthrow the Mad King, stood on the wrong side, as royalists, opposing King Robert!"
He paused, scanning the room, seeing no one refute him.
His voice grew a few shades louder: "The Lord's three brothers, deeply sinful, all fought for Rhaegar, the Mad King's son, against King Robert and were buried together at the Trident."
Then, he directly faced Raymun Darry and said loudly,
"And now, it is the House Darry's time to show loyalty to King Robert and atone for their sins! Why is the Lord so affected and pretentious!"
But he did not notice that the atmosphere in the tent had become strange, even somewhat solemn.
Some of the knights and lords who had been speaking loudly had fallen silent, their uneasy glances shifting between Ser Joses and Raymun Darry.
And several of the soldiers clearly loyal to Raymun Darry had quietly placed their hands on the hilts of their swords.
Their chests heaved violently, emitting heavy gasps, and dangerous glints flickered in their eyes.
Their gaze was fixed on Raymun Darry, waiting for his command to chop off the head of this idiot.
However, Ser Joses was completely oblivious to this, or perhaps he simply didn't care.
He continued to babble.
With an indifferent, self-righteous, and gloating tone, he said, "Oh, and Lord Raymun Darry's older and younger sisters, for the continuation of the family, married the younger sons of Old Lord Frey?"
"Let me think, which son of Old Lord Frey was it? Old Lord Frey's children are simply too many to count, hahaha!"
Seeing the situation in the tent rapidly deteriorating, with swords practically drawn, Ser Ronald, the Knight Commander of Raymun Darry from Fruitwood City, quickly stood up.
He interrupted Ser Joses with an undeniable tone, telling everyone present, "This meeting is over for tonight! Everyone, please return, get some rest early, as the march ahead will require everyone to maintain their energy."
His gaze sharply swept over Ser Joses, full of warning.
Under Ser Ronald's firm attitude, the vassals and knights, still harboring unspent anger, left the tent one after another.
Only Ronald and Raymun Darry remained.
Ser Ronald turned around and looked at the young lord sitting there.
Raymun Darry's expression was normal, as if the words just spoken had not affected him at all.
He merely lowered his head slightly, as if deep in thought.
Ser Ronald sighed softly.
He stepped forward and whispered, "My Lord, you don't need to take to heart the words of that idiot, Joses. However, your practice of hanging portraits of past Targaryen kings in your castle is too dangerous; it will only expose us to peril and cannot change what has already happened. Once it is seen by someone with ill intent and reported, alas."
He did not finish his sentence.
He paused, his tone growing heavier: "What's more, the House Darry has secretly been aiding the two young dragons of House Targaryen. The House Darry has paid enough for House Targaryen! Joses was right about one thing: we must perform and contribute in this war to better hide our true purpose and better protect ourselves."
Raymun Darry still did not reply, his gaze lowered, as if completely immersed in his own thoughts.
Ser Ronald sighed again, seeing that the Lord remained silent.
He was about to say something more when a thought suddenly flashed through his mind; he remembered the information he had learned about them when he spoke with the sixteen-year-old nobleman earlier to verify his identity.
Ser Ronald spoke again, his voice softening: "My Lord, Suleiman Droppings, he and his two guards, arrived in Seagard not long ago and participated in a battle to repel the Ironborn landing."
"Suleiman's father and two older brothers were both killed in that battle. His two guards are also veterans who have fought the Ironborn on the battlefield."
Raymun Darry's head lifted slightly, finally showing a reaction.
He slowly raised his head, looked at Ronald, and a meaningful curve appeared at the corner of his mouth: "That sixteen-year-old child?"
A barely perceptible hint of interest flickered in his eyes.
He was twenty-four this year, the youngest son of the House Darry.
Before him, his three older brothers, Damon, Desmond, and Rodran, all went to battle at a younger age than him.
Damon died in battle at the Trident at the same age as him (24), Desmond was only 20, and Rodran was even younger, only 18. They all died for Prince Rhaegar.
And he, Raymun Darry, had never participated in a real battle.
Now, hearing that a young Ser Droppings, much younger than himself, had not only gone to battle but had even lost his father and brothers, filled him with a strange sense of resonance and interest. He suddenly developed a strong curiosity about this seemingly eccentric and peculiar young man.
"Summon Suleiman Droppings," Raymun Darry said indifferently to Ser Ronald.
"Lord Suleiman, Ser Ronald requests your presence in the Lord's tent."
A Darry soldier found Suleiman, who was queuing for a meal by the bonfire with the other soldiers, and respectfully conveyed the order.
Upon hearing this, Suleiman was instantly dumbfounded. His head buzzed, and the wooden bowl of broth in his hand almost dropped to the ground.
Summoned? Lord Raymun Darry summoned him?
He suddenly felt a surge of intense nervousness, his heart began to pound uncontrollably, as if something was about to be caught.
It's over, have they found out about me freeloading, eating and taking things?
Are they going to kick us out?
"Eat a few more bowls!"
Suleiman said to Simon and Lenn, who were still feasting without reaction.
Simon and Lenn immediately got up and went to queue again.
Simon and Lenn didn't understand why Suleiman told them to eat a few more bowls, but they trusted Suleiman implicitly; they just did what Lord Suleiman said.
Suleiman sighed and could only nervously head to Raymun Darry's tent.
And in his mind, he thought of countless excuses, such as:
"I was helping to save it, temporarily keeping it for you!"
"It's a fine family tradition of ours to pack up leftovers when we can't finish everything!"