Edmure had made up his mind to take his first real action three days ago.
Time kept slipping away, leaving him less and less room to maneuver.
He remembered that Jaime Lannister was still at Harrenhal, healing from his severed hand, and would be setting out for King’s Landing any day now.
He’d be traveling with Qyburn, with Brienne of Tarth, and quite possibly with a formidable escort led by Walton, called Steelshanks, captain of Roose Bolton’s guard.
Roose Bolton, cold and unscrupulous master of the Dreadfort, had already made up his mind to betray Robb, and hadn’t bothered detaining the Kingslayer, even though the old Edmure had sent ravens in every direction ordering exactly that.
Edmure had at least had the sense to try.
He’d even sent old Ser Robin Ryger after him.
There, of course, he’d made a mistake.
Trusting a job like that to a man like Ryger!
Once he’d been a fine fighter, but the years had done their work, dulling both his edge and his wit, until the captain of the guard was fit for little more than standing around the courtyard barking at recruits.
Ryger had, predictably, come back empty handed.
His pride had taken a real blow, and he couldn’t quite bring himself to admit that he and his men had been held off by a single woman, strong and capable as she was: Brienne of Tarth.
Edmure already knew that much of the story quite well.
When Ryger returned to Riverrun, and this had happened on Edmure’s watch, he’d said nothing to the man.
What was the use of scolding a slow, none too clever old soldier?
If anyone deserved blame, it was the old Edmure, for picking the wrong tool for the job in the first place.
So Edmure set out to fix what he could.
First he needed someone sharp, someone who could read people and understand the shifting political and military currents around him.
Karyl Vance fit the description well: the melancholy, thoughtful Lord of Wayfarer’s Rest.
Karyl had already recommended another clever knight, a man named Robert Peg.
His shield bore two intertwined snakes, one red and one white.
He was as cunning as the creatures on it, Karyl told him.
The old Edmure had liked Robert too, in his own way, mostly for hunting and drinking, pulling him into his personal circle for exactly that kind of company.
The conversation took place in the Lord of Riverrun’s study.
Tall cabinets of fine mahogany stood along one wall, three low, comfortable armchairs were arranged near an old table, and a standing candelabra threw soft light across the room.
A map of all Westeros hung on the far wall.
The study hadn’t seen much use in years.
Old Lord Hoster had been bedridden for a long time before his death, and the younger Edmure had always preferred settling business in a tent, on the march, or over friendly drinks in the Great Hall.
“Listen carefully, Robert,” Edmure said, choosing his words with care.
“You’ll take a hundred of our best men and twice as many horses.
Ride for Harrenhal as fast as you can.
Ser Jaime Lannister should be there.
Bring him back to me, whatever it takes.
Whatever it takes, Robert.” “You’ve got important work ahead of you, Ser Robert,” Karyl added from his seat by the window.
“The future of the Riverlands may hang on how well you do it.” “Ser Jaime?
In what capacity is he at Harrenhal?” Peg was of middling height, dark haired, with a sharp, attentive look in his brown eyes, and it was plain he actually thought before he spoke.
His questions only confirmed as much.
“As I recall, Lord Bolton’s army is garrisoned there.
He’s our ally.
Why wouldn’t he simply hand Ser Jaime over?” “It isn’t that simple.” Riverrun’s new master paced the length of the room, from window to door and back.
“Roose Bolton has his own game in mind.
I fear he’s already begun playing it.” “I see,” Peg said, though not entirely convinced.
“And if he…
refuses my order?
If he won’t give up the Kingslayer?” “It’s dangerous work, Robert,” Edmure said, not bothering to soften the truth.
He crossed the room and set a hand on the knight’s shoulder.
“You could die.
If Bolton resists, tell him no one has come to Harrenhal at all, that we know nothing of the matter, that the rest of your men know exactly where you are and what you’re doing.
Still, I don’t believe Roose Bolton will risk open rebellion.
Not yet.
It would ruin his plans.
Whatever else he is, he’s cautious, not reckless.
Hint to him that the rest of your force is close by and knows your business.
And I’ll send a raven ahead with a few lines of my own to Bolton.
It might help keep you alive.” “So that’s how it’s done.” Peg nodded, pleased.
“It seems cunning isn’t only a northern habit.” “Glad to hear it,” Edmure said, satisfied.
“You’ll tell Bolton the order to return the Kingslayer comes not only from Lord Edmure but from King Robb as well,” Karyl added.
“A little extra weight never hurts.” “I hope that pushes him in the right direction,” Edmure said, shaking his head.
If only it were that simple.
“Understood.” Peg allowed himself the ghost of a smile.
Despite the obvious risk, something about the whole scheme clearly appealed to him.
“What else?” “Whatever happens with Bolton, don’t be drawn into open conflict.
If he stalls, if he claims he doesn’t know where the Kingslayer is or hasn’t seen him, let him think you believe it.
Tell him you’re heading back to Riverrun.
Don’t you dare start a fight.
I need you and your men alive.
Play the part of a diligent but not overly clever servant.” “Don’t worry, my lord.
The northmen won’t provoke me into anything.” “Good.
Now, once you leave Harrenhal, head south, though not too far, or you’ll risk capture.
Try to intercept the Kingslayer on the road as he makes for King’s Landing.
He’ll likely have with him a huge woman named Brienne of Tarth, a maester, and perhaps others besides.” “So there’ll be blood in it.” “Count on it.
No one gives up a Lannister without a fight,” Edmure said, chewing his lip.
“You’ll recognize Tarth the moment you see her, the maiden of the Sapphire Isle.
She’s…
striking, in her way, and not shy about who she is.
Have you seen her here at Riverrun, by chance?” The knight shook his head.
“A pity.
She swore an oath to Catelyn Stark.
I’d rather she be taken alive than killed.
But if it comes to that, if she resists, don’t let your hand shake.
Understood?” “Yes.” “Let me explain something,” Edmure said.
He wanted his people to go in with the full picture, so there’d be no fatal surprises.
“She isn’t a lady in any way you’d expect.
She’s a seasoned, ferocious fighter.
Brienne fought her way into King Renly Baratheon’s Rainbow Guard, beating knights far more celebrated than most men could dream of matching.
She’s dangerous, skilled, and sharp enough not to be underestimated.
Don’t give her a single opening.
Understood?” “Yes.” “It’s likely Lannister will be guarded by Bolton men.
Quite possibly a good number of them.
In that case, don’t force an open fight.
Look for a chance to steal Ser Jaime away quietly, or improvise something on the spot.” Edmure genuinely didn’t know whether Jaime’s escort would be small or formidable.
It could go either way.
“That won’t make my orders easy to carry out.” “No one’s asking the impossible of you,” Karyl said.
He’d moved to the map and was tracing a thoughtful finger along the Trident and the country around Harrenhal.
“Be clever.
Think.
Look for your openings.” “You won’t be judged if you come back without the Kingslayer,” Edmure added.
“But it will be far better for all of us if you succeed.” “When do I leave?” “Now, Robert.
The clock is running.” Edmure stood in front of him and met his eyes.
“Bring me the Kingslayer, and once the war ends, I’ll give you a castle of your own.
Any one you like, save Riverrun or Harrenhal, which already have masters waiting.
And there are plenty of ownerless castles these days.” “I’ll do everything in my power to take Ser Jaime,” the knight answered firmly.
He bowed, turned sharply, and his dark cloak swept up like a wave coming to life.
Peg left.
An hour later, the drawbridge rang with the hooves of powerful horses.
The riders looked magnificent, strong and sure of themselves, uniform as arrows in a skilled archer’s quiver.
The castle garrison and servants watched them go with curious, puzzled looks.
Only two people knew the true purpose of the ride: Edmure himself, and Karyl Vance.
And the new Lord of Riverrun had no plans to explain himself to anyone else.
Though the Blackfish, no doubt, would sooner or later come asking what he was up to.
I’ll say I sent them out scouting, Edmure decided.
He wasn’t confident that Peg, for all his intelligence, effort, and drive, would manage to actually capture Lannister.
Too little time, too many variables that could tip the outcome one way or another.
Hoping for success bordered on pure optimism.
By the map, it was roughly three hundred and fifty kilometers from Riverrun to Harrenhal as the crow flies.
A bird could manage that distance easily enough; a man on the winding roads would cover a good deal more.
Peg and his men would need to cross that ground safely, without dying, without riding into an ambush, and there was no guarantee Jaime would even be at Harrenhal when they arrived.
Edmure didn’t remember such fine details, exactly which day Jaime had left the castle, or when he’d turned back for Brienne after she’d been thrown into the bear pit.
How far could a rider with two horses travel in a day?
Somewhere around a hundred kilometers, maybe a little less.
Eight days there and back, in theory.
But such a tight schedule wasn’t realistic.
Add a day or two of searching once they reached Harrenhal, and whatever unforeseen trouble came their way.
All told, there was no sense expecting Robert back in under two weeks.
Still, Peg had a real chance.
He might die.
He might come back with nothing.
Or he might come back with a prisoner.
And if he did, Edmure would suddenly hold a trump card that changed everything about his position.
Karyl sat still and silent, watching the Lord of Riverrun with careful eyes as Edmure began pacing the study again, restless.
Tywin Lannister dreamed of passing Casterly Rock down to Jaime and to Jaime’s children after him.
He still hoped for a proper marriage for his eldest son, and grandchildren to follow.
That was a lever worth pulling, a way to bargain for acceptable terms once the fighting ended, in exchange for Jaime’s release.
Turn the Kingslayer around, and the whole shape of the war might shift.
The trick was catching him first.
By rights, Edmure should have led such an important mission himself, but for a number of reasons he couldn’t.
It was an unnecessary risk, and he wasn’t sure his body could hold up to that many days in the saddle, and beyond that, he simply couldn’t afford to leave Riverrun.
A difficult conversation waited for him there.
King Robb, his mother, and the Blackfish all needed putting in their place, and Edmure had no real certainty, at that point, that he would manage it.
And if Peg did bring back the Kingslayer, someone would need to make sure young Stark didn’t simply claim the prize for himself.
“You understand Robert might not have enough men with him?” Vance said, parting his thin lips.
“I would have sent him with more.” “If Bolton wants him dead, a thousand men wouldn’t be enough, and I can’t empty all of Riverrun to find out,” Edmure said with a bitter grin.
Karyl had wanted to give Peg at least three hundred; Edmure had wanted fifty.
They’d settled on a hundred, and neither of them was fully happy about it.
But a smaller company found it easier to find food and shelter across a countryside this ravaged.
And if they were all killed…
Edmure didn’t want Robert and his men to die, but he was prepared for the possibility.
If it happened, better that it happened to as few as possible.
He would need every remaining soldier before this was over.
And still, he couldn’t bring himself not to try, not to make some attempt at capturing Lannister.
In his position, he had to reach for any opportunity, however thin.
For two days he searched for his chance and made his preparations.
And then, at last, came the long awaited conversation with his beloved family.
When King Robb Stark of the North, his mother Catelyn, and the Blackfish finally left the upper solar, Edmure felt thoroughly wrung out.
He took a deep breath, poured himself a full goblet of wine, and drank it down eagerly, his throat working hard.
Even with some means in his old life, he could only have dreamed of wine like this.
“They didn’t get to you, I hope?” Karyl Vance asked, faint irony in his voice, as he stepped into the room and shut the door behind him.
“How did it go?” He already knew, of course, what Edmure had planned.
Edmure couldn’t have kept it from him.
He needed people who were ready to follow him all the way through, whatever came, and Karyl was one of them.
“I always thought the Blackfish was a true knight through and through.
I didn’t expect him to turn out such a stubborn old ram,” Edmure said carefully.
He probably shouldn’t have said quite so much against his own uncle; the river lords might not take kindly to that.
He wondered, briefly, whether calling the man a ram had been going too far.
“What did you expect, Ed?
The old don’t hear well, and they like even less when the world starts changing around them,” Karyl said evenly.
So all was well.
“And King Robb?” “He didn’t take it kindly.
Held out until the very end.” Edmure finished the last of his wine and set the cup down with something like regret.
He had another important conversation ahead of him, and he needed a clear head for it.
“He tried to call me a fool, a traitor.
Told me to come to my senses.
Made threats.” “And?” “We’re allies now, Karyl.
True allies, not vassals,” Edmure said, a note of real pride in his voice.
And he had earned that pride.
Riverrun, and its new master, had taken a step forward and claimed a place of their own.
He might not yet be the castle’s rightful lord in every formal sense, but he’d shed the role of errand boy for good.
“Glad to hear it.” The knight smiled.
“We’ve finally got the standing we deserve.
Should I tell the others?” “Not yet.
Bring Marq into it, and Goodbrook too.
That’s enough for now.
The rest will learn soon enough, over the next few days.
No sense stirring up the northmen before we have to.” “I’ll see to it.
And you?
What’s next?” “I’ll rest an hour, then go speak with Frey.
We’re due a heart to heart.” “Lame Lothar means to leave Riverrun in the morning.
He’s already given the order for his men to assemble.” There was a note of carefully hidden surprise in his old friend’s voice.
The lord of Wayfarer’s Rest wasn’t used to seeing Edmure act with this much drive.
It must have looked strange, so unlike how Tully used to be.
But Edmure didn’t much care.
Marq and Karyl would keep quiet.
Everyone else could explain the change however they liked.
Besides, it was foolish to move carefully now, to keep tiptoeing around a life that wasn’t entirely his.
He’d already laid two stones toward the future: sending Peg after the Kingslayer, and having his family conversation out in the open.
The thing to do now was press on, strike while the iron was still hot.
“I mean to keep him here at Riverrun and offer him my hospitality,” Edmure said, with a short laugh.
“Old Frey won’t like that, once he learns of it, and he will.
Lothar won’t like it either.
Are you certain we should do this?” Vance said thoughtfully.
“Things with the Freys are delicate enough as it is.
Maybe this isn’t the moment to push harder.” “Yes, Karyl, it is,” Edmure said, shaking his head.
If only he could tell the man everything waiting for them.
Less than two weeks remained before the Red Wedding.
Old Walder had already made his decision.
No amount of anger was going to change that now.
“The Freys are vassals of Riverrun, after all.
Isn’t it time we shortened their leash and reminded them of it?”
com/Hezzario