Then again, he probably should have checked said treasure trove first before he got hyped.
Cause the weirwood grove he expected was paltry as heck... when he was finally led there to see it for what it is.
Yes, their reclusive Godswood had a giant Heart Tree... the very Tree that they were supposed to be Sons of. Old and very authentic as can be...
But the rest of the weirwood-y plantation he had drummed up in his head was nothing special at all...
Sure, there seemed to be 23 other established weirwoods... with very botched carvings... but where were the other hundreds and hundreds of trunks that marked the graves of youth that weren't allowed to grow up?
Representing generations upon generations of Great Sons. Sons that were made great for their sacrifice.
Yet after finding a relatively flattened plot of land, overgrown with grass that strangled the many little treelings that could have been.
What happened to them could already be guessed.
All the Winterings, inadequate tree-growing knowledge, and prioritizing the few at the expense of the many...
Probably...
With Ronan finding it just a tad depressing.
Because 24 was good and all, but yeah... he should have been a bit more conservative with his over-imaginations.
Probably serves him right for treating it as a blind box and not having any of his wargs look ahead.
Fortunately, he was quick to bounce back from this simple mismatch of expectations... by humming a nursery song in their still passable sapling nursery.
And The Green Grass Grows All Around, was what it was called. Whilst he also looked around to see what he could try and salvage from the deader lot.
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Accordingly, with the assurance that dead weirwood was still something he could work with... Ronan moved on while the rest of the Bronze Order were also moving on.
After all, this head-on collision with this bunch was about the last batch of clansmen in the Mountain of the Moon.
His birds double-checked, and the whole mountain range was technically cleansed of the highlanders... save for those misty mysteries.
So, it was pretty straightforward from there.
Straight towards the Fingers, that is.
For after the clearing of the chunky peninsula where Gulltown and Runestone were at... and the Moon Mountains made relatively spotless as well... then the prominent Five Fingers were what's next.
The five narrowing peninsulas of the Vale… which are described to be windswept, treeless, bare, and stony... but the many Houses situated on the middle Finger would probably beg to differ.
Either way, it should make the finding of leftover tribesfolk to be comparatively easier than how it was.
To serve as a relaxing crescendo of sorts to the turbulent times that these past few had been.
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And for the most part, it actually was quite an easier time... for the remainders were only pitifully few and not as noteworthy as the prior encounters that they had.
Some were even quite peaceful in the sense that they simply surrendered at the sight of bronze.
As their exploits had clearly become spread... even when it is already at the tail end compared to new news.
News like the King's betrothal and upcoming marriage to Lady Alicent Hightower, the daughter of the Hand and bosom friend of the Princess.
There was also the resignation of Lord Corlys Velaryon from being the Master of Ships... as he defiantly headed to war in the Stepstones.
With the rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen and his Caraxes tagging along.
To face against the Crabfeeder and the Triarchy, the three cities that are rumored to fund those crab-feeding eccentricities
Which were quite intriguing but matters that were too distant for the locals to truly dive into. Aside from the whispered spotting of a dragon in their region, that is.
So, those roar-hearing and sleep-deprived claimants might have some credibility to them.
Either way, who in their right mind would try to meet this dragon of rumors?
So, the fanfare was still towards the Bronze Order's way... with many Lords said to be preparing feasts in their honor.
Alas, before any guest right could be awkwardly turned down... their young lord was already quick to decline... as he is on a "time-crunch".
So, to their duties they must attend to.
Rounding up tribesfolk... hunting the Tinmen that were located at some cross of two Fingers... and that was about it...
With their "Washing of the Fingers" being very smooth... and it made for another song title for the bards to dither on about.
All in all, it ended at the littlest Finger, the Littlefinger, which was quite the barren land with not even any assigned lord.
Making it the perfect settlement for the mess-makers of the Vale. Their last stand of sorts.
In any case, the Bronze Order still made quick work of them. Even the Vile Kins that were the fiercest among the bunch... along with the most elusive Sons of the Mist that were found at last.
And despite the dull simplicity of it all... it still officially ended the unprecedented saga that this was.
Ridding the hills, the mountains, and the Fingers of their most persistent plague.
They had done all of it!
Which was a feat worth remembering... a feat worth commemorating... and a feat worth celebrating.
Under the command of the Young Bronze... the Ser Ronan of the Royces!
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And yes... Ronan was someone who commemorated the achievement, by using a big canvas he had prepared.
He actually planned to use it to collate his ultra-detailed mapping of the Vale... but what the heck.
He'll just procure another canvas. While this one he'll use to sort of immortalize the moment.
Directing the men on where they should stand... the taller ones like Uncle Gunthor in the back, while the shorter dudes can be up front...
Some may even have to prop themselves up on a rock or two... and plenty will have to sit down.
And yeah... include some of the more docile prisoners to serve as proof of what this was about.
In any case, the Order of the Bronze still did what they were told, even when they weren't exactly sure... what even is this?
Much more so when Ronan himself scooched into their formation and was told to look into the eyes of an overlooking eagle and say... "Cheese".
Long story short, the clueless bronzes eventually did find out that they were to be painted like so.
Only further down the line, of course, cause the process wasn't just as instant as Ronan hoped it would be.