Opening post by Lady Barbrey Dustin · #1
My maester tells me I raise this too often. My maester is welcome to raise something better.
Strip the songs away and it comes to this: what the Drowned God asks that the Seven do not. Somebody in this hall knows more than they are letting on, and it is not me.
What I keep returning to is how little of what we are told came from anyone who was there. It is all copies of copies, and each copy had a lord paying for the ink.
It matters less than the harvest, and I will still be arguing about it at midwinter.