On his breastplate was the three-headed dragon of his House, wrought all in rubies that flashed like fire in the sunlight. I won't trouble Robb. We can't see you behind those horses. Alas, I was born a Lannister of Casterly Rock, and the grotesqueries are all the poorer.
Gregor's lance goes where Gregor wants it to go. Must ride. It is just as well. Commands us, mind you.
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