Stepping out from the gatehouse, Edmure saw a straight road leading directly to the stone arch bridge.
High walls and towers lined both sides of the path.
Above, soldiers with powerful bows and heavy crossbows watched the travelers below.
Even if an enemy tricked the guards into opening the gate, the archers on the walls would quickly shoot them down.
Edmure and his ten companions followed the main road, passed under an iron gate, crossed a courtyard, and entered the great hall.
At the far end of the room sat a massive black chair made of dark oak.
The back of the chair was carved to look like twin castles joined by a bridge.
An old man wrapped in a heavy black fur coat leaned back in the large chair.
His skin was pale, wrinkled, and covered in age spots.
He had no hair or teeth, and his gums were sunken, making him look like a sickly old weasel wearing a coat made of its own kind.
His eyes were cold, bitter, and full of suspicion.
A few armored knights and guards carrying swords and shields stood near the chair to protect their lord.
On both sides of the hall sat over twenty family members, all wearing clothes embroidered with the blue and grey towers of House Frey.
They stared at the visitors with curious, unfriendly expressions.
“Good day, Lord Frey,” Edmure said, stepping to the front of the group.
Lord Walder Frey did not reply.
Instead, he narrowed his eyes and looked past Edmure to Ser Brynden Tully standing behind him.
“Ser Blackfish, I remember you,” the old man sneered.
“Why are you hiding in the back?
Step forward and let me see how well you play nanny to these young noble children.” Ser Brynden remained calm.
He had expected Lord Frey’s harsh tone.
“It has been a long time, Lord Walder,” Ser Brynden said.
“This is Edmure Tully, the eldest son of your lord, Hoster Tully.” “I can see that,” the old man snapped.
“Red hair and blue eyes—who else could it be but the spoiled son of Lord Hoster?
And of course he has the famous Blackfish following him around like a servant.” The old man shook his head angrily and pointed a thin finger at Edmure.
“Tell me, boy—did you travel all the way here in the freezing cold just to insult me?” “No, my lord,” Edmure replied.
“I only want to cross the bridge to visit my sister in Winterfell.
Your tax collector was the one who acted disrespectfully.” “So eager to visit family in the winter?
What a foolish lie,” the old man barked, his laugh sounding like a harsh cackle.
“Do you think I am stupid?
You say my tax collector was rude, but you arrived hiding your identity instead of flying your family banners!
My man did not know who you were, yet you blame him for doing his job.” “I was not trying to hide,” Edmure said calmly.
“Winter is a hard time, and I did not want to burden other lords by asking for shelter.
I have not stayed inside any castles since leaving Riverrun, as my companions can confirm.” “Is that so?” the old man asked, his voice full of suspicion.
“You Tullys have always looked down on me.” “For years, your father called me the ‘Late’ Lord Frey.
He even refused to attend my wedding!
And the new academy he opened completely excluded my family.
Just because I swore loyalty to him, he thinks he can treat me like dirt!” The old man turned his glare toward Ser Brynden.
“And you, Blackfish!
Every time you see me, you scowl.
I know you have the same terrible temper as your brother.” He pointed back at Edmure and tapped his fingers angrily on the wooden armrest.
“And what about you?
By what right do you stand at my gate and call me a robber?” “Because your tax collector tried to charge us triple the usual toll and threatened to take my goods if I refused,” Edmure said.
“House Frey has collected bridge tolls for six hundred years—long before your family became rulers of the Riverlands!” the old man shouted.
“So what if the price tripled?
I make the rules here!
I have never missed a single tax payment to your father.
If you do not want to pay, take another road!
Instead, you stood at my gates and insulted me in front of my own people.
Who do you think you are?” “Lord Walder, he will be your liege lord one day,” Ser Brynden reminded him quietly.
“I do not need your advice, Blackfish!
I am not senile yet,” Lord Frey snapped.
“He is not my lord yet, and he needs to learn respect for his elders.
Guards, bring me a horsewhip!” A middle-aged man with grey eyes stepped forward from the crowd.
“Father, please stop.
We cannot harm a guest, especially the son of Lord Tully…” “Ser Stevron, I am still alive, so do not tell me what to do!” the old man interrupted.
“They are not my guests.
I have not offered them bread and salt.” He then looked at Ser Brynden and added, “Do not touch your sword, Blackfish.
I will not harm your nephew.” Below the dais, the castle guards shifted nervously and raised their shields.
“Boy, do you have a servant to take your whip beatings for you?” the old man asked.
Edmure’s expression hardened.
“I do not need anyone to take my punishments.” “The son of Lord Tully does not even have a servant for beatings?” the old man sneered.
“I will pick one for you then.
That small boy in the back—step forward.
What is your name?” “Hugo…
Hugo Vance,” the boy stammered.
“Lord Walder, his father is Lord Norbert of Atranta,” Ronald said quickly, stepping in front of his younger brother.
“A Vance is a Vance.
It is an honor to take a beating for your lord’s son,” the old man said with a cruel smile.
“Are you refusing to show your loyalty?” “I…
I don’t…” Hugo stumbled over his words, unsure of what to do.
“Enough!” Edmure interrupted.
“Lord Walder, I will pay the triple toll and follow your rules.” “Foolish boy, do you really think this is about money?” the old man mocked.
A tall, heavily built knight stepped forward holding a leather whip, waiting for Lord Frey’s command.
Edmure noted his square face and sharp jaw under his helmet.
Taking a deep breath, Edmure stepped forward and faced the old lord.
“Lord Walder,” Edmure said, bowing his head.
“I realize I acted rashly and offended you and your family.
Please accept my sincere apology.” The hall fell dead silent.
Edmure stayed bowed, waiting.
“Father, let us end this peacefully,” Stevron said softly.
“Yes, accepting young Lord Edmure’s apology is best for everyone,” another voice added.
“Fine, fine!
Stop nagging me,” the old man said, waving his hand in annoyance.
“Lord Edmure, since you are still young, I will accept your apology.” Edmure stood up straight and looked back at the throne.
A smug, victorious smile spread across Lord Frey’s face.
“Lord Walder, may we cross the bridge now?” Edmure asked, keeping his voice neutral.
“If you are so eager to leave, go ahead,” the old man said, leaning back into his chair and closing his eyes as if tired.
“I hope you remember this lesson.” The heavy wooden doors of the hall opened.
The tall knight tucked the whip into his belt and led Edmure’s group outside.
Edmure learned the knight’s name was Hosteen Frey and kept it in mind.
Once outside the castle, Edmure confirmed that Bronn and the rest of his guards were safe.
He then handed a pouch of gold coins to a new tax collector, who politely accepted it without counting and invited them to cross the bridge.
The group rode across the stone arch bridge, with Edmure carefully noting the layout of the castle.
Once they passed through the eastern gate, Edmure rode up to the supply wagon where Hugo and Ronald were sitting.
“I hope Lord Frey did not scare you too much,” Edmure said gently.
“It’s okay, Edmure…
I wasn’t really scared of the whip,” Hugo stammered.
“You did nothing wrong, Hugo.
I was the one at fault,” Edmure said.
“I spoke without thinking and did not expect Lord Frey to get so angry.
But I would never let anyone take a punishment meant for me.” “That old man just wanted to force the son of his liege lord to bow to him,” Ronald said bitterly.
“He treats everyone else like they don’t matter.” After reaching an open field past the castle, the group stopped to rest, light a fire, and prepare lunch.
They toasted slices of dark bread and cheese while Edmure cooked a hot soup made of beer, garlic, onions, spices, and dried fish.
The young men sat in a circle by the fire, talking about everything that had happened inside The Twins.
Those who had stayed outside listened closely, and Bronn finally understood why Edmure had told him to prepare for trouble.
“What a terrible place,” Hendry said.
“The Freys all act the same.
That hall felt like a cave full of weasels.” “I always heard Lord Frey was a proud and bitter man, and today I saw it myself,” Ser Karyl said softly.
“I thought Lord Frey was going to throw us all into his dungeon,” Robb Paige admitted nervously.
“How are you feeling, Edmure?” Tristan asked.
“I was terrified at the gate,” Edmure said, putting on a dramatic, panicked face.
“If one of those crossbowmen had slipped, I would have been filled with arrows!” His joke made everyone laugh, clearing away the tense mood.
Ser Brynden then looked around at the young men and asked a serious question.
“Edmure, what would you have done if Lord Frey had refused your apology?
Think about that, all of you.”