Instead of taking the flat, wide Kingsroad to White Harbor, Edmure led the group south along the eastern bank of the White Knife River.
Thanks to their experience from the first march across the snowy plains, along with having fewer supplies and pack animals to manage, the Riverlands group traveled smoothly despite the rough roads.
At night, since they had fewer wagons and mules to form a defensive circle against night raids, they set up camp by the river.
They used the wagons to block one side of the camp and faced the other toward the White Knife River, giving the night guards a clear view.
They were harassed by wolf packs a few times, but they managed to escape without any trouble.
Light snow fell continuously, eventually turning into a heavy snowfall.
Luckily, there was little wind.
For several nights, tents in the column collapsed under the weight of the snow, so the men reinforced the supports when setting up camp, which prevented any more collapses.
Even so, they would occasionally wake up in the morning to find the entire camp half-buried in snow.
Unable to even push open their tent flaps, it took twice as much time and effort to pack up camp and cook meals.
“I really want to go back to Winterfell,” Patrek Mallister sighed one evening while holding the ropes to set up a tent.
Wearing fur-lined deerskin gloves, he was frozen, exhausted, and trembling so much he couldn’t tie a tight knot.
“I want to soak in the hot springs and drink mulled wine with fresh pears from the glass garden.
It warms you from the inside out.” “I think those hot springs have made you soft,” Ser Brynden “The Blackfish” scolded.
“Haven’t you noticed it gets warmer as we head south?” Edmure opened a map of the North given to him by his brother-in-law, Lord Eddard Stark.
It was much more accurate than the map he had brought from Riverrun.
Edmure understood the great strategic value of a precise map, and he knew it showed Lord Stark’s deep trust in him.
Because of this, he only allowed himself and Ser Blackfish to view it.
“He’s right,” Edmure said.
“At our current pace, we will see the sea in two days.
White Harbor sits right at the mouth of the White Knife River.” After Edmure announced this, he went to help Patrek finish pitching his tent.
Hearing a clear timeline eased the group’s exhaustion.
A day later, a faint salty breeze blew in, and the air felt much milder against their skin.
Edmure knew that White Harbor was an ice-free port located much farther south than Winterfell.
Warm ocean currents heated the land, making the temperature around White Harbor noticeably higher than in the interior.
On the day they were set to arrive, scattered houses appeared in Edmure’s view.
Small wooden boats and fishing nets dried in the yards alongside pitchforks and farm tools.
As they neared the sea, the houses grew closer together, and a bustling fish market stretched along the shore until a massive white stone wall blocked his view.
The white stone wall stretched for nearly a mile, with a tower every hundred yards.
The wall stood thirty feet high—less than half the height of Winterfell’s outer wall—but because it was built on a breakwater, its location made it look much taller.
This white wall divided White Harbor into an outer harbor and an inner harbor.
An ancient fortress stood on the waterfront outside the wall, connected by a wide, sloping white stone staircase to a new castle on the hill inside.
These two fortresses protected White Harbor from both land and sea attacks.
When Edmure was still a few miles away from the wall, a group of riders carrying a banner with a white merman on a blue-green background rode out to meet him.
The leader was a round-faced, bearded young knight who was extremely fat.
In White Harbor, a knight heavy enough to make his horse strain was almost certainly a Manderly.
“Lord Edmure, Ser Brynden, good day.
I am Wendel Manderly,” the fat knight said in a rough voice, though his words were polite.
“My father, the Lord of White Harbor, sent me to guide you.
My brother is also eager to serve as your host.” “Greetings, Ser Wendel,” Edmure replied, returning the salute from his horse, Thunderhoof.
He remembered that Wendel’s older brother, Wylis, had soaked in the hot springs with him back at Winterfell.
Edmure noticed that the fat knight carried two sets of bows and arrows on his saddle—one long and one short.
Entering the inner harbor through the Seal Gate, Edmure immediately smelled a strong, salty mix of fish and seawater.
Despite the smell, the city was clean.
The broad, straight streets were paved with large cobblestones, and the houses were built from whitewashed stone with dark gray slate roofs.
The Riverlands group arrived at a cobblestone square with a central fountain.
Edmure had intended to hand the men over to Bronn, send the merchant Anfo Lian to the market to check prices and buy supplies, and then hire ships to take them to the Vale.
To his surprise, Wendel stopped him.
“My father has already taken care of everything.
Lodging, meals, supplies for your journey, and ships for your voyage have all been reserved on his orders.” Hearing that the local lord was so generous, the Riverlands group smiled, and a few men even cheered.
Anyone who had suffered through a long, brutal journey across the cold snow would gladly accept hot food, warm rooms, and good wine.
“I cannot turn down Lord Wyman’s generosity,” Edmure thought.
He assumed Wylis had sent word ahead about their arrival, but the Lord of White Harbor’s extreme hospitality was still a welcome surprise.
Edmure led his men up to the New Castle in the inner harbor for the banquet.
He genuinely wanted to meet the Lord of White Harbor, Wyman Manderly.
Historically, three major families in the North had once claimed kingship and held massive influence.
The Kings in the North—House Stark—were the undisputed rulers.
The other two were the Dust Kings in the west and the Red Kings in the east.
Although the descendants of those ancient kings lost to House Stark and became vassals to Winterfell, the Northern lords still held them in high regard.
In Edmure’s eyes, however, House Manderly of White Harbor was the most powerful vassal under his brother-in-law’s command—a belief confirmed after seeing White Harbor in person.
White Harbor controlled the largest trade network in the North.
Countless goods from the south and across the Narrow Sea entered through its port.
Using cheap river transport, goods could easily travel deep into the Northern interior along the White Knife River during the summer.
In Edmure’s trade plans, White Harbor was a crucial commercial hub.
He needed to ship low-margin bulk goods through the city, and even if he wanted to bypass royal taxes, he would need House Manderly’s help to avoid the king’s tax collectors stationed there.
Additionally, White Harbor had something Edmure desperately wanted: silver.
The Riverlands lacked gold and silver mines, but a booming economy required steady currency.
While the Riverlands produced plenty of goods, precious metals mostly came from the Westerlands.
Edmure refused to rely on the Westerlands—a long-time enemy of Riverrun—for his money supply.
Because House Manderly controlled a major trade port and owned silver mines, they were easily the wealthiest family in the North.
Unlike inland lords who might have silver but no way to spend it, White Harbor could quickly turn money into food or military strength.
Furthermore, nearly nine hundred years ago, when House Manderly was driven out of the South, House Stark gave them White Harbor because the Manderlys were outsiders to the Northern nobility.
This mirrored the situation back home: while most Riverlands lords followed the Faith of the Seven, House Tully closely allied with House Blackwood, the only family that followed the Old Gods.
Similarly, while most Northern lords followed the Old Gods, House Stark supported House Manderly, the only Northern house that followed the Seven.
The logic was simple, and the results were clear—both families became the most loyal allies to their liege lords.
No matter how powerful House Manderly grew, they posed no threat of overthrowing House Stark, unlike the descendants of the ancient Red Kings or Dust Kings.
In the past, House Stark had granted White Harbor to a branch of their own family, the Greystarks.
However, the Greystarks betrayed Winterfell by plotting with the Boltons.
After defeating the Greystarks, House Stark wiped them out entirely.
White Harbor passed through several families before finally being given to House Manderly.
Although Edmure knew his brother-in-law was not a paranoid or bitter man, Edmure made sure to be careful.
Minor squabbles between brothers-in-law were fine in private, but openly building close ties with Winterfell’s vassals could look suspicious.
House Manderly was the exception; even if they grew close, Edmure could easily justify it through trade dealings and their shared faith in the Seven.
Wyman Manderly likely understood this as well, which explained why he gave Edmure’s group such a warm welcome.
The two men were set to get along instantly.
The fortress on the hill was simply called the New Castle.
The feast took place in its great hall, known as the Merman’s Court—a magnificent hall where the walls, floors, and ceilings were paneled with thick wooden boards painted with colorful sea life.
Lord Manderly sat on a massive, cushioned chair on the high platform.
The seat was wide enough for two people, fitting his massive belly and sausage-thick fingers.
As soon as Edmure walked through the doors, the enormously fat lord happily stood up and stepped down from the platform to greet him.
“Welcome, welcome to my home, Lord Edmure!” Lord Manderly called out.
“Wylis told me you were a handsome and talented young man, but seeing you in person is even better than the stories.”