Dead. All of them were dead. Or would be anyway...

Valkor scanned the crowd with a practiced eye, one hand on the hilt of his rapier as always. If anyone would bother to look in the direction of the cowled guard at the door, they would find much more than what they expected. But he was a master at diverting attention from himself. A master at disembowling a man where he stood, and then leaving the corpse for the beasts to tear apart and devour.

However, his attention was diverted from scanning the ceremonies for anything out of place when he noticed his current liege-lord glancing at a strange man standing near the back of the room on his right. Sliding his gaze over the crowd again, Valkor made as if to stretch and let his ice-blue eyes rake across this new source of interest. A strange man with white hair and violet eyes. Some sort of diplomat by the looks. Was he trouble?

Letting his arms fall back down to his sides from his feigned stretch, Valkor lowered his head and let his gaze focus on his lord. The man was good at sensing when someone had their eyes on him. All he had to do was nod in his direction, and Valkor would tail the man out of the ceremony.

His sword hand twitched and Valkor spread his feet a little bit further apart as he braced his back against the wall, head lowered even further. To onlookers, it might seem as if he had dozed off. But his gaze remained on Lord Lannister, awaiting orders.

Somewhere outside, he heard the thunder of impatient hooves. The war-cry of a beast untamed, and screaming to be set free.