"My brother and I were raised with tales of your great deeds, Ser Barristan. But I see reality is oft far more disappointing than song and tale. Instead of a knight of great renown and virtue, all I see is an old lapdog who scrapes to serve whoever throws him a bone. Targaryen. Baratheon. Lannister. Targaryen." The old knight tensed at the words. Selmy might have been a dangerous foe once, but Wyman was willing to wager all his money on the King and his deadly bronze sword. The king then turned to Daenerys. "How many must keep dying for the bloodthirsty Targaryens and their vainglorious dreams of grandeur? Hundreds of thousands? Millions?" For a short moment, the king looked... weary? But Wyman blinked and realised that Jon Stark's purple eyes were now glaring with savage resolve. The Lord of White Harbour had no idea how they would win against three larger dragons, but at this moment, against all reason, he did not doubt that his King would find a way to win and slaughter all of his enemies.