As the days and nights passed, while Ashlynn trained with Dame Sybyll and the forces of the Vale gathered for the next phase of Ashlynn's war, cold autumn rain drummed against the diamond-paned windows of Lothian Manor's great hall, where her enemies had gathered to discuss the sudden and unexpected raids on the westernmost baronies.
Outside the great hall, chill winds flung rain and occasional bursts of hail against the windows of the hall, rising and falling in intensity like the cold breath of fabled ice horn demons lurking in the darkness of the approaching winter.
Compared to the storm that had raged a few nights ago in the western territories, the weather could be considered mild but it still prompted the servants to heap extra logs on every fire burning in the hearths of the great hall.
