I’ve always hated these situations: men trying to bully each other with words. It’s dishonorable, and unchivalrous, and confusing.

I watch Ralph speaking and find my hand on the pommel of Victorinox. I survey the room: four of them, three armed. A plan begins to form. I’ll take them unaware. The thief first – and quickly – then engage the knights. Will the Lordling and Bard join the melee? Yes, I think.

We’ll fight our way out… Escape before the watch can be alerted! Sail neither south nor west (as they’d expect) but rather to Essos! Dock perhaps in Norvos where the name Tito Alfah holds sway and join up with a company of mercenaries.

The band from Jasper will laugh and fight under that new sun. Against any foe our blades will sing and the east will know the valour of Westerosi knights. Ho Ho!

We’ll all grow thick moustaches and sit atop a mountain of riches; made of equal parts gold, women, dragon eggs, and wi….

I realize that everyone is looking at me… expecting me to speak… I choke but eventually say some half-truth to James. He frowns and seems…. affected by it?

Have I done it? Struck him with words alone? Darron the Wise! Ho Ho! Darron the Cunning!

I can’t wait to tell the handmaiden and farmer about this! They’ll have a good laugh!