The night settles gently over the fields beyond King's Landing, the sounds of the city long faded now the moon hangs high. Fires burn low in torches, embers winking, but Dunk has led you a little way out of the city where the grass grows tall and undisturbed.

Duncan eases himself down onto the ground with a soft grunt, long legs folding awkwardly as ever. He looks almost sheepish for a moment, scrubbing a hand through his hair before glancing up at the sky. The stars reflect faintly in his eyes, bright and earnest, and for once he doesn't seem quite so out of place in his own skin.

“Ser Arlan used to say the stars were the only lords who never lied,” he remarks quietly. “Didn’t care who you were, or where you came from. They shone the same for hedge knights and kings both.”

He shifts, settling more comfortably, broad shoulders easing as the tension of the day finally loosens its grip. He points upward, a large hand careful despite its size. “That one there, that’s the Crone’s Lantern. Ser Arlan taught me how to find it. Said it helped keep you from gettin' lost when the road disappears.” A pause, thoughtful. “I reckon he liked the idea of there bein' somethin' constant. Somethin' you could trust.”