After setting up the hot spring tents, Edmure visited the baths for two days in a row.
During the day, he managed trade supplies, checked accounts, practiced his combat skills, and copied library books.
At night, he relaxed in the warm baths, chatting with Lord Stark, Lord Hornwood, and Ser Wylis Manderly.
Soon, Lord Locke of Oldcastle joined them as well.
Oldcastle was close to Winterfell and located further up the White Knife River, near the Wolfswood—the largest forest in the North.
Edmure was eager to trade in weirwood.
This unique, rot-resistant wood had a distinctive color and was ideal for crafting fine furniture and high-quality weapons.
Historically, Lord Brynden Rivers—known as “Bloodraven”—carried the famous Valyrian steel sword Dark Sister, but he preferred using a weirwood longbow.
The legendary Kingsguard held their council around a shield-shaped weirwood table, and Jon Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie, sat upon a weirwood throne.
In the South, most weirwood trees had been cut down centuries ago during ancient wars.
Aside from a few protected trees in noble castle godswoods, they only remained in sacred places like the Isle of Faces.
Edmure urged Lord Stark and the northern lords along the river to harvest and sell some of their weirwood.
The Riverlands had a large community of skilled craftsmen and strong trade networks to process and sell the timber, making the trade profitable for both regions.
However, most of the northern lords hesitated.
Weirwoods were deeply sacred to followers of the Old Gods, and cutting them down on a large scale would cause outrage.
Only Ser Wylis Manderly was open to the idea.
House Manderly had originally come from the South before House Stark granted them refuge at White Harbor.
Because they worshiped the Seven rather than the Old Gods, they had no religious objections and found it easier to do business with southern houses like the Tullys.
Edmure had no intention of destroying the North’s forests.
He respected the power of the Old Gods and knew that weirwood trees served as their eyes and ears.
Instead, he proposed a sustainable forestry plan: the lords would count their weirwood trees, calculate their growth rate, and plant new saplings as they harvested.
By balancing cutting with replanting, they could maintain the forests while building a lasting business.
The vast, empty lands of the North were perfect for long-term timber management.
To show goodwill toward the Old Gods and prevent soil erosion, Edmure also planned to plant trees back in the Riverlands.
Lands like Blackwood Vale had become barren and muddy; without trees to hold the soil, a sudden flood could prove disastrous.
Working alongside Maester Luwin, Edmure wrote detailed proposals so the northern lords could easily manage the trade.
It took two days of discussions in the hot spring tents, but Lord Stark, Lord Hornwood, and Lord Locke finally agreed to try the plan.
They agreed to start the weirwood business after the first summer harvest, using it as the foundation for a larger trade agreement between the North and the South.
The gloomy clouds finally parted, bringing warm sunlight to the snow-covered grounds.
Many of the visiting northern nobles left Winterfell, while new guests arrived.
Early that morning, servants cleared the snow from the training yard.
Edmure, Ser Brynden, Bronn, and the young Riverlands nobles gathered to practice.
Soon, the yard rang with the clash of weapons and the shouts of the crowd.
Ser Brynden organized protective gear for everyone, running drills that ranged from one-on-one duels to larger group battles to simulate real war.
Edmure made sure his men practiced these drills whenever possible.
Eager for action, the northern guards joined in to spar with their southern guests, creating the highlight of the day.
Several matches drew large crowds.
Lord Stark personally invited Ser Brynden Blackfish to spar.
Both men used real, unblunted steel, which was dangerous but showcased their true skill.
As a veteran commander of Robert’s Rebellion, Ned Stark did not disappoint.
His swordplay was solid, disciplined, and sharp from years of real combat.
For a high lord, personal combat was secondary to battlefield command, but Ned’s combat strength earned deep respect from his men.
However, Ser Brynden was a master swordsman who spent his life focused entirely on military training.
Calm and experienced, he remained unfazed by Ned’s fierce presence.
Ned tried to use his youth and strength to press the attack, but Ser Brynden easily predicted his moves and countered them smoothly.
Though Brynden controlled the pace of the fight, he made sure to respect his host.
After twenty rounds, Brynden saw an opening and darted his sword tip directly to Ned’s throat.
Ned smiled and conceded defeat.
The duel was a masterclass in swordsmanship, and the watching crowd cheered for both men.
The match between Bronn and Jory Cassel, the captain of Ned’s guard, felt much tenser.
Jory was a battle-tested warrior in his twenties who had served Ned through Robert’s Rebellion and Catelyn’s wedding.
Bronn, meanwhile, was quick, clever, and unpredictable, using pragmatic footwork developed over years of street fights.
Jory fought stubbornly, but Bronn was simply faster.
In under ten rounds, Bronn scored a victory, landing a light cut on Jory’s calf.
It was a minor scrape, but it was the first blood drawn that day.
Rather than taking offense at losing to a lowborn mercenary, the northerners respected Bronn’s skill and asked to learn his techniques.
Edmure had a healer clean and bandage Jory’s wound with strong liquor to prevent infection, then ordered the fighters to switch back to blunt training swords.
Next came a match between Edmure and Winterfell’s master-at-arms, Ser Rodrik Cassel.
Ser Rodrik was a tall, heavily bearded veteran known for his strict, disciplined training.
Edmure put on protective padding and picked up a blunt sword.
Rodrik was not the fastest or most brilliant fighter, but he was an exceptional teacher.
Facing the master-at-arms, Edmure did not rush to win.
Instead, he stayed on the defensive, studying the traditional northern sword styles Rodrik demonstrated.
Rodrik’s moves were steady and cautious, lacking the wild aggressiveness typical of northern warriors.
Once Edmure memorized the old knight’s patterns, he launched a counterattack.
Rodrik defended well, but Edmure ended the fight within thirty rounds without injuring the elderly knight.
The crowd cheered loudly for the fourteen-year-old heir of Riverrun.
It was a well-fought, educational match that showcased Edmure’s remarkable talent.
Because the Riverlands delegation consisted of well-trained noble youths and elite soldiers, they won most of the day’s spars, especially dominating the mounted lance duels.
“Don’t get arrogant,” Edmure warned his friends quietly.
“A practice ring is not a real war.
Northern soldiers are tough, and no one in the Seven Kingdoms can match their endurance in actual battle.” “Are they really that tough?” Marq Piper and Patrek Mallister asked, sounding doubtful.
“Look at our own history,” Edmure replied.
“During the Dance of the Dragons, our ancestors fought alongside the northern Winter Wolves, relying on them to win critical battles.” He chose not to mention that the legendary Winter Wolves had fought almost to the last man.
Toward the end of the day, a latecomer entered the training ground, clearly intending to make a dramatic entrance.
Standing six feet tall, the warrior wore full copper-plated steel armor over chainmail, with his face hidden behind a solid helmet.
Carrying a kite shield and wielding a heavy spiked flail, he pointed his weapon directly at Ser Brynden.
His posture was arrogant and aggressive, demanding a fight against the Riverlands’ strongest warrior.
Ser Brynden chuckled, put on an iron helmet, fastened a wooden shield to his arm, and stepped into the ring without hesitation, ignoring the fact that he had already fought several matches.
The northern knight wore the crest of a black bear standing on a green field across his breastplate, and he moved with the brutal force of a wild beast.
He swung his heavy flail in wide circles, kicking up dirt and snow whenever it struck the ground.
“Edmure, is that the Lord of Bear Island you mentioned?” Tristan Legg asked in awe.
“Lord Mormont uses a Valyrian steel sword, not a flail,” Hugo Vance pointed out.
“Just watch,” Edmure smiled, looking on with his companions.
“Once my uncle knocks his helmet off, we’ll see who he really is.”