cp3

Chapter 3

I made my way up to Hoster's solar, Vyman a smug shadow as I ascended the stairs. I was desperately wracking my brain trying to think of how I would handle this situation. In truth, I should have had a plan from the get go, as no Lord Paramount likes to see their son just start issuing orders and spending money. However, I had simply counted on Hoster being too ill to find out or involve himself in matters. Indeed, with all the milk of the poppy I knew he consumed, I had figured he wouldn't even remember what I did if he was told. Mind, I might not have been wrong, but for Vyman's interference.

Speaking of, the last thing I needed was the Maester present while I tried to do damage control with Hoster. As we approached the solar doors, I came to a halt and turned to the old man.

"Maester Vyman, you may wait here while I consult with my father."

"Lord Edmure, I must insist I accompany you. Your father's condition is delicate, he should not be engaging in such stressful matters without myself and his medicine nearby."

No, the old Maester did not like the idea of waiting outside at all. Which, of course, only reinforced for me that leaving him behind was the right move. Maybe without his interference I could sell Hoster on some of the changes I was making. "I'm sorry Maester, but you willwait outside until I call for you. This is a private matter between father and son, and as such I am sure it will not be stressful at all. Should we have need of you, you may rest assured we will call for you."

The advantages of being a lord. Vyman clearly felt he could not disobey a direct order, and so I left him behind me, seething in frustration, as I entered my father's solar on my own.

Hoster looked even worse than when I had last seen him a week ago, and he hadn't been looking too good then. He was propped up on a small mountain of pillows, and looked frail enough to break if you breathed on him wrong. His face was lined and twisted with pain and his breathing heavy, but his eyes managed to focus on me as I approached.

"Edmure… my son. I missed you." Each word was punctuated by a pained gasp, but he managed to lift his hand and gesture. "Come. Sit. You've been busy."

"Father." I pulled up a chair and sat close to him so he wouldn't have to strain his voice, gently holding his trembling hand. It seemed like a properly filial thing to do. Besides, even if I wasn't really his son, I couldn't help but feel for the man. Whatever fate Westeros had for me, I hoped it would spare me poor Hoster's. "How are you feeling today? Do you need something for the pain?"

"Later." He gasped. "The pain. Is there always. The crabs pinching." A shudder wracked his body as his hands went to his stomach. "But we must talk first. Then the medicine. Vyman told me of the guard. Explain Edmure."

The old man was clearly delaying taking his medicine to try and have this conversation with a clear head. As if I didn't feel bad enough, he was clearly putting himself through a lot of pain to try and understand what his son was doing. I took a deep breath as I tried to sell this. "I've been trying to step-up father. There is so much to do, and we need the guard. A solid cadre of armed soldiers; professionals not peasant levies. They could make all the difference in a crisis."

Hoster was clearly not having any of it though, as his head was shaking somewhat wildly. "No Edmure. The expense. A lord must be a steward to his people. You must. You must be cautious, think of our position in… in the long term."

The problem was, Hoster was a hundred percent right if you didn't have the knowledge of foresight. The only way to justify this sort of expense would be if there was a major war on the horizon, and I could hardly explain away how I knew war was coming. Or could I? A germ of an idea began to spark in my head.

"Father, I am thinking of the long term. I promise, I will do you proud. I've been sending out spies and scouts since you have been ill. They bring word of the Lannisters stirring, and that Balon Greyjoy is massing his long-ships on Pyke. I know a plan like I have for the guard is not feasible in the long term, but it lets us prepare for what my spies tell me is coming. Prepare without causing the alarm that would occur if I called the banners. I fear war is coming, and we must be ready. When the crisis passes, we can always disband the extra guard." That was complete BS of course. I had no spies or scouts, and I also had no idea if the Lannisters or Greyjoys were making any moves yet. However, it occurred to me that 'spies' might be a good way to cover for having knowledge of future events.

Hoster did not look fully sold though, and seemed to be steeling himself to argue with me further. The poor man was really pushing himself. "Edmure. I understand. But it is not… not… smart. If nothing comes of it… the gold is wasted. You can't… can't… just disband the guard. It's asking for bandits to have well trained men with no job." He had to break off for a minute before continuing, as his body was wracked in pain. "Our strength is our allies. Your sisters. Stark. If the Lannisters act, we appeal to… the king." He trailed off in pain again and I gave his hand a squeeze.

"Father. Do not stress yourself. Trust me. Trust that I will do what is best for our house. Trust me." I was pleading, but I hoped that would sell it."

"No. I forbid you to… I forbid… I…" he trailed off in a groan of pain. "The crabs. Pinching."

I needed this conversation to end. It was clear I would not be swaying Hoster. Worse, I didn't blame him for not being convinced, and I hated seeing the old guy in pain. I took this as an opportunity though, and grabbed the medicine sitting on his nearby nightstand, pushing it into his hands. The pain must have been bad, as he gulped from the flask desperately, my hands helping support it so nothing spilled. I wasn't sure if it was milk of the poppy, dream-wine, or some other Westerosi concoction. Whatever it was though it was potent, as he seemed to drift off into a half sleep almost at once, the lines of pain in his face easing slightly.

I smoothed my hand over the poor guy's hair, brushing it out of his face as I got to my feet with a sigh. I was feeling rather like trash at the moment. Yes, I had managed to technically avoid having Hoster order me to cease in my plans, but only by a combination of luck and defacto drugging my own father. Even if he had been in pain, I felt rather like an ass in feeding him that medicine. And in causing him so much distress to begin with. I didn't want to hand the reins back over to Hoster, he wasn't well enough anyway, but neither did I want him spending his last days worrying his son was going to throw his legacy away.

Something needed to be done, and my earlier interactions with Vyman had planted a seed of an idea in my head. First though, assured Hoster was drifting deeper into sleep, I stood up and exited the solar.

Vyman was waiting outside where I had left him, and he perked up when I exited. "How is your lord father? I assume you will be issuing orders to halt the guard's recruitment?"

Wow, could he be anymore transparent? I shook my head at him, and enjoyed watching surprise flicker over his face. "There is no need for any such orders Maester. My father and I talked, he understands what I am doing and places his trust in me. He had no orders on the guard." A hugeexaggeration, but technically true. He had issued no orders for me to stop, though he clearly had intended to. "The pain is bad though, I gave him his medicine and he is sleeping now. Let us not disturb him."

The Maester's eyes narrowed more suspiciously at this, but he gave a sharp nod and turned to head down the stairs. "Very well. I will check on his lordship in the evening." That sounded more threat than reassurance.

"As you say Maester. I will be outside the castle if you need me, I wish to check with Ser Ryger and Ser Desmond on the guard." With that, we parted ways. Myself to find Ryger and Desmond, the Maester to do whatever it was Maesters did when they weren't trying to sabotage my plans.

—

I dismounted my horse as I reached the camp just outside of Riverrun. Recruitment had been going so well that we could no longer fit all of the trainees inside the castle, and Ser Desmond had relocated the guard to a nearby field. It was easily within walking distance, but I had come to quickly realize that a Westerosi Lord did not walk, not even a short distance.

Waiting for the servants to saddle the horse had given me time to turn over my plan for Vyman in my head. It had occurred to me when I had ordered him to wait outside Hoster's solar that, despite his reluctance, the man had listened. It made me realize the rules of this world were different than those of earth had been. As a lord, an acting lord paramount really, I was the law, crazy as that sounded. Short of the king interfering or my pushing my vassal lords to the point of revolt, there were very few checks on my power. And I had the weight of thousands of years of tradition and culture reinforcing my place at the top of the heap. Not to mention all the gold and swords of the Riverlands. That didn't mean I intended to turn into some monster, or a Roose Bolton or Tywin Lannister. However, I could throw my weight around a little more than I had been. I'd known it intellectually, but it was finally starting to sink in that I was the one in charge of of a piece of land the size of a country.

It was with that in mind that I motioned for Ser Ryger to join me. The old man was puffing by the time he reached me, wiping sweat from his bald brow, yet he couldn't have looked happier. "Ser Ryger," I greeted him.

"Lord Edmure! Come to see the boys at work?" He motioned towards the lines of training guardsmen. "They've been pouring in since you sent word out. It's been all Desmond and I can to do to get them organized! And we must have raided the armory for every piece of old equipment there is, the smiths have been working full-stop as well."

"I'm glad it is starting to come together. Keep up the good work Ser Ryger."

Enthused, the man kept right on talking. "Indeed Lord Edmure. I admit I was skeptical when you suggested this, but we are going to make you proud. I've got almost the entire guard… the old guard I should say… working at training the lads."

I nodded my head, glad things seemed to be picking up. But that wasn't why I was here, pleased though I was, so time to change subjects. "I'm glad to hear it Ser Ryger. But that's not why I am here to see you today. I just came from visiting my father."

At that, the old knight immediately sobered, and I remembered he had served under my father for decades. "How is Lord Hoster? We miss his presence, and that's the truth. You're a fine boy Edmure…" he suddenly coughed and turned red, realizing he had probably been too familiar. "That is to say, a fine lord. But still, we all hope Lord Hoster makes a recovery."

I nodded my head in agreement. "Indeed. We all pray for a full recovery." Doubtful though I knew that to be. "Unfortunately though, father was not having a good day when I visited him. It's the stress I think."

Ryger blinked in confusion. "Stress?"

"Yes, stress. Understandable of course, but people continue to bother him with the mundane business of the Riverlands. Why, just today Maester Vyman had him all stirred up by trying to handle business. I understand why of course, no one has a mind as sharp as Hoster… as father. I wish he could take up the burden. But he needs to focus on his health, every-time we lay our concerns on him I see the toll it is taking. It is our duty to lessenhis burden, not add to it."

Ryger still looked confused as he listened to me. "Well. Yes Lord Edmure. Have I been disturbing Lord Hoster somehow?" He looked horrified at the mere notion.

"No, no." I hastened to assure the knight. "You have been only a support to father. I don't know what he would do without you." That had the old warrior preening again. "The problem is too many others are bothering him. Well meaning, yes. But still bothering him. Servants, Maester Vyman especially, others too I'm sure. So I was thinking. Those of us that care for father need to look out for him until he can recover. I know most of your guard are busy training the new recruits, but I am thinking we can put a few trustworthy guards at his door. Just to assure his privacy and peace. They can make sure that only a few people we know won't disturb him gain admittance. You, myself, a few trusted servants. But best we keep Vyman and any others that will just cause him stress away, right Ser Ryger?"

Ser Ryger gave a slow, uncertain nod. "Well. Yes. That is, we have guards to spare to put on Lord Hoster's door. And I wouldn't want him being disturbed. But. Well. How would his illness be treated if the Maester was kept out? And how is he to guide us if only servants visit him?"

I gave a solemn nod back, as though Ser Ryger was raising an excellent point. Which to be fair, he was. "Unfortunately, Vyman seems to be the main cause of Lord Hoster's stress. We will arrange that he can leave the medicine for father at the door. I've also arranged for a new Maester, one who specializes in medicine, to be sent from the Citadel." Ryger seemed to perk up and gain hope from the second statement, so I pressed my advantage. "In the meantime, we will make sure that Lord Hoster communicates only through those of us who know him well, who can be sure to not put an undue burden on him as we gain his advice. I will make sure to visit him daily of course, and relay any orders. And I know a visit from you would cheer him up, whenever your duties spared you." And with any luck, the growing size of the guard would make that spare time rare indeed.

Ryger was watching me a tad warily now, turning all of this over in his head slowly. He looked hesitant, but then sent me one last long look before nodding his head decisively. "I suppose that makes sense. We want what's best for Lord Hoster. And with him so ill, it is a blessing of the gods that you are able to step up as you are. He will have the best care though? Servants to care for his needs?"

Yes! I'd done it. Whether he really bought what I was selling, or just figured it wasn't wise to cross the soon to be Lord of Riverrun, Ryger was backing me. Pleased, I gave the man a hearty slap on the back. "Of course Ser Ryger. I'm not implying we leave my father without care. Just that we make sure those who are disturbing him, like Maester Vyman," an emphasis on that name "are kept out. You'll want to place some reliable guards there, who have good judgment and won't be pressured."

Ser Ryger nodded again, more firmly this time. "Yes Lord Edmure, you can count on me."

"Good man! I knew I could." As Ser Ryger puffed up at the praise, I made my exit. "I leave the matter in your capable hands." I was more glad than ever before I'd managed to patch things up with Ser Ryger, the man was turning out to be invaluable. With a little luck, this would solve the problem of Hoster contradicting my orders.

I was just about to get back on my horse and head back to the castle, when a small group of riders crested the hill and changed paths, clearly making for myself and the camp. The guards around me glanced up for a second, but seemed to know who was approaching, as after a quick glance they returned to their tasks. Despite that, I might have been worried had I noticed the lead rider had a dancing pink maiden sewn on the breast of his doublet. I didn't know all the sigil of Westeros, but that one had always stood out in my mind due to its uniqueness. It looked even more absurd in person. So, judging by the sigil and youth of that rider, I was guessing this was Edmure's friend Marq Piper. The other two men riding besides him had, respectively, sigils of a silver eagle and a yellow shield bisected by a wavy blue line.

I was still trying to wrack my brain for the houses associated with those two sigils, when probably-Marq-Piper leaped from his horse and drew me into a fierce embrace. "Edmure! It is good to see you!" He paused to look behind me at the sprawling camp of the new guard. "What is all of this? We leave you for a few weeks and you call the banners?" He laughed to show he was joking.

Silver-eagle guy snorted at that. "You still missed out. We've been drinking and whoring from Pinkmaiden and back. I don't know what you've been up to, but that bunch don't look near as appetizing as that pretty-young tavern lass Marq was flirting with two days ago."

Ok. Apparently Edmure was friends with a bunch of spoiled frat boys? Still, I had to hope they didn't spot how different 'Edmure' was. Or if they did, that they chalked it up to increased responsibilities. "It's good to see you Marq. And you," I nodded to Mr. Silver-eagle and blue-stripe, whoever they were. "You have missed a lot! It may not be the fun you had" as if, I had gotten over drunken parties a decade ago, "but we've been busy here. This is the new Tully Guard you see behind you."

Silver-eagle rolled his eyes at that. "Just because you're acting Lord of Riverrun is no need to turn into an old man Edmure. Besides…" a wide smirk split across the man's face. "We have news! I'm sure there will be a raven soon, but we heard the news right from a messenger from Kingslanding. Before almost anyone in the Riverlands I bet! Marq insisted we gallop all the way here to tell you"

My stomach suddenly roiled. They seemed happy, but that sounded ominous. Surely it wasn't news that the war was coming? Perhaps seeing my look, Marq took pity on me and elbowed the other man. "Quiet Patrek. No need to look so glum Edmure, honestly it's the most amazing news I've heard in ages. Years!" They all looked excited as Marq continued. "King Robert, he's called a tourney! To honor Lord Stark, the new hand."

Patrek interrupted Marq. "Not just any tourney Edmure! Forty thousand dragons as the prize! And that's just for the joust. We're all going to go. I'm going to meet up with Father and then travel on to Kingslanding to…"

Marq interrupted him in turn. "We're all going to enter Edmure! You should come too if your father is well enough to spare you. There hasn't been a tourney like this since Harrenhall! Think of the glory!"

"The women…" Patrek muttered.

I was barely listening though. My skin felt tingly. Finally. Finally! I had the time-line. I knew where we were in the 'story.' And as I tuned out my 'friends' excited ramblings, I felt the pit in my stomach grow. It may not have been as late in the time-line as I had feared, but it wasn't as early as I had hoped either. Events were going to start moving very, very fast. Whether I was prepared or not.