14

Chapter 13

Harrenhall was more impressive than I had expected. I could remember seeing skyscrapers, whole cities worth in fact, that dwarfed it. And yet still. Maybe it was because I had gotten used to the smaller scale of Westeros. I doubted there was a structure to match Harrenhall in sheer size south of the Wall or north of the Hightower. Yet, it also had something to do with how it was constructed. Tall as they were, the skyscrapers I could remember from my youth were built to scale. Each room and each floor was scaled to the size of an average man. With Harrenhall? I could understand the stories smallfolk shared of giants helping to build it. The dimensions of the towers and windows were made more to fit a giant than a man. It gave an uncomfortable feel to the whole castle.

Well. No matter. I gave my head a shake as I tried to focus back in on the business at hand. I could see Bolton and a small cadre of Northerners waiting for me as my host snaked its way into the castle.

"Lord Edmure. Welcome back. Harrenhall is yours." Lord Bolton inclined his head ever so slightly. "We've prepared rooms for you in Kingspyre Tower. And quarters for your men."

I eyed the man warily as I fell into step besides him, most of my companions trailing off to see their men settled. A helpful Bolton pinged my radar far too much. "Thank you. You've had no problems?"

He smiled back, though it did not touch his eyes. "None, Lord Edmure. The men you left to garrison the castle did an adequate job. And there is more than enough room for our combined hosts."

Bronn, my eternal shadow, let out a snort at that. "I'd say."

Those eerie eyes of Bolton's drifted to the swellsword before resting back on me. "Indeed."

I motioned for Bronn to be silent before turning back to Bolton. "And what other news? Any word on my nephew, or Tywin?"

Bolton gave a small shrug, and I found myself leaning in as he continued in that damned whisper. "Lord Tywin has gone to ground at Stoney Sept, and we've had no word since. The Ironborn are raiding along the Stony Shore. But word reached us that King Robb has bypassed the Golden Tooth and is in the Westlands."

Bronn let out a low whistle. "The Goldentooth? That is a tough fortress."

Bolton ignored the swellsword-turned-knight, focusing on me. "He did not take the keep, simply slipped around it."

I gave a brisk nod as I processed that. "Very well. In the meantime, we will have a council tomorrow. Every day really, as we figure out our plan. You will make sure the Northern lords know to join us?"

Bolton tilted his head at that. "Surely there is no need for such a large conference every day."

Ahh. I narrowed my eyes. He was up to something, I just wasn't sure what. "Did my nephew's letters reach you?"

Bolton gave a shrug. "Of course. He was most explicit. Our swords are yours to command, Lord Edmure." That small smile returned to his face. "But we are not some pack of bickering southerners. Simply tell me your will, and we shall see it done. There is no need for conferences."

Clearly he wanted to keep his own command as separate from me as possible. "Your support is appreciated Lord Bolton." I came to a halt as I eyed him. "My will is that we hold council daily, and that your commanders attend."

I expected argument at that, but he only gave an apathetic shrug and resumed walking. "Of course, Lord Edmure."

I didn't trust how easily he seemed to have given in. Still, I'd take it for now. We came to a stop at a half ruined tower. Bolton spread his arms. "The Widow's Tower."

I paused, eying the man. "The Widow's Tower? I thought our quarters were in the Kingspyre Tower?"

This time, I noticed the smile did touch his eyes. "Yes, Lord Edmure. But I assumed you would wish to pay your respects to Lady Whent first? She has been residing here. She has been most… eager… to meet you."

Yeah, that smile had me a bit wary. "Ahh. Yes. Of course. You are coming?"

There was definite amusement in his low voice now. "No need, Lord Edmure. I would not want to get in your way. Besides, I must see to my own men and make sure our commanders know of your… council…"

Great. That gave me the distinct feeling that this meeting was going to be a headache. Still, Bronn and I pressed on. The Widow's Tower was as much a wreck on the inside as it had looked on the outside; mothballed and dusty. It was also far too big, but that was clearly a theme of Harrenhall. At least with only one long hall, it was hard to get lost.

Our advance was finally halted at the door by a knight with three porcupines on his shield who sketched a quick half-bow. "Lord Edmure? Willis Wode at your service."

I nodded my head. "Thank you Ser. Lord Bolton informed me that Lady Whent is expecting us?"

"She is my lord. But only you." His eyes drifting to Bronn, underlining his meaning.

However, after Bolton's little act earlier, I was hardly going to go in by myself. I gave the Knight a hard stare. "Ser Bronn is my loyal companion, I'm sure your lady will not have a problem with his accompanying me."

The knight's face twisted at that. "Ser? This… creature…"

Bronn sent the knight a small smirk, seeming to revel in his stiff-necked discomfort. "Aye, good to see you again as well, Wode."

I shot him a side look, curious how these two knew each other. "Ser Bronn was knighted for his bravery at Harroway's Town."

The knight in front of me continued to look skeptical, but I pressed on. "Regardless, Ser Bronn will be accompanying me." I let a note of finality into my voice.

I was learning more often than not that tone and firmness tended to get results in Westeros. Now was no exception, as with one last bitter glance the knight opened the door allowing us to gain admittance.

With hindsight, I probably had not needed Bronn after all. The hall we entered was as run down as the rest of the castle, there were no guards present and no one to create any mischief that I could see. Just an old lady who must be Lady Whent. Well. I mentally corrected myself. I may have spoken too soon. There was another familiar face besides her. I sent a scowl at the wrinkled Maester. I had completely forgotten that I had sent Maester Vyman to Harrenhall all those months ago.

"Edmure." The old woman turned her head to me. "It has been far too long boy. Come closer, so an old lady can see you."

I blinked at that familiarity. It seemed off. Still, one thing my adapting to Westeros had taught me was to roll with unexpected greetings and people who seemed to know me. I stepped closer, putting on my polite lord's face. "Lady Whent, thank you for your welcome."

The old woman gave me a long look. "So much formality, Edmure? I may not have seen you since you were a baby, but I am still your aunt."

I blinked in surprise. My aunt? I didn't remember that from the books. I cast a sidelong glance at Bronn, but he was no help, seeming amused by the whole thing. "Ahh. Yes. Aunt. It has been too long." A bit lame, but understandable under the circumstances.

The old lady leaned back with a huff. "Or maybe I shouldn't be surprised with the formality, considering how you've treated me."

I blinked, taken aback. This was not how I expected this meeting to go. "I'm sorry… aunt… but…"

She cut me off, her voice cracking like a whip. "Am I not still the Lady of Harrenhall? Have I died when I was not looking and another inherited?"

"No! Of course not… I'm not sure I understand…"

Again she interrupted me, leaning forward in the chair. "Ahh. Perchance I'm wrong then. I thought for sure I must have offended you. But you just don't understand?"

I straightened my spine, attempting to gain control of the conversation again. "Lady Whent." I shook my head. "Aunt. I think there appears to be some confusion. Have I offended *you* somehow?"

A sickly sweet tone entered the old lady's voice. "Offended me? But how? It's not as though you have sent whole armies to my castle without a by your leave. Taken over my towers with no word. Left that vile Bolton to act as though my home was his. Sending your unwanted Maesters to me. Your pet Pyromancers to set up their warren in my home."

Vyman's scowl deepened and he interjected at that. "Those foul charlatans have been up to all sorts of mischief."

Lady Whent cut him off with a raised hand before continuing. "Indeed. They take over the Wailing Tower. On your orders I'm told? And made themselves at home with their experiments. It is a wonder they haven't burned the whole keep down. And here I sit, Lady of Harrenhall, powerless and a spectator to it all."

I blinked slowly. When she put it all like that, it did sound somewhat bad. Truth be told, I mostly just hadn't thought about her at all. She wasn't mentioned much in the books, and just had not factored into my calculations at all.

Finally, as she paused for breath, I stepped forward intent on doing a little damage control. "Aunt Shella." Yes, that had been her first name. "I know this has all been an imposition on you, but really there was no choice. Events were moving very fast."

She leaned back in her chair, raising a silver eyebrow. "Too fast for a raven?"

I nodded solemnly. "Indeed. And too likely it would be intercepted. The Lannisters moved fast. And father was ill."

She grumbled at that. "Not that it would matter if he was well. You think I don't know how he talks of me? Married my sister, but does he treat me like family? When was the last time he invited me to meet my nieces or nephew? He acts as though I'm dead already… no doubt where you picked up the habit from, boy."

I eyed her. "I'm sure father meant no disrespect. But as I said he has been ill."

She gave another huff at that. And I took it as my cue to press on. "Indeed, it is precisely because you are family that I knew I could trust you and Harrenhall as a gathering place for our resources." Total bullshit, but it sounded good.

She didn't seem convinced though. "Ohh, indeed? Our close family relationship? I'm sure it wasn't the central location, strong walls, and our rich larders."

I couldn't help but smirk at her sass. "Well, those too."

She snorted back, and some of the anger seemed to go out of her at that. "Well then. Come and give your aunt a hug, boy."

She raised her boney arms and I went over and gave her a quick embrace, and a light peck on the cheek.

She seemed to study me as I stepped back. "You aren't what I expected, Edmure."

Well, not surprising. Still, I gave a shrug. "War has a way of forcing you to grow up."

"Still. It suits you. I'm not sure what I expected. Your actions and then… well… one does hear stories." She gave a sideways glance at Maester Vyman by her side. No need to guess where those stories were coming from.

"One has to be careful of stories," I offered.

She gave another little amused huff. "Indeed. You'll want to watch that Bolton in particular, Edmure."

I raised an eyebrow. "Ohh?"

She nodded, face turning serious. "Indeed. He is in here every day. Ohh, he says the right words, but I didn't get this old by being a fool. He is no friend of yours."

I grunted. Shocking.

She must have seen something in my face, because she gave another little cackle of laughter. "Ohh I do like you, boy. You have your mother's sense of humor. I wish I'd gotten a chance to get to know you. But your father…"

She trailed off for a moment before giving herself a shake and continuing. "But no matter. No point in might have beens. Its good to see you've inherited your mother's wits."

It was a bit disconcerting, as she was the first person I'd met in Westeros to keep referencing my mother. Usually people were focused more on my father. I couldn't help but wonder what my mother here had been like, I couldn't recall Cat ever mentioning her at all in the books.

Still, now was not the time. I gave my aunt nod. "Thank you. You'll have to tell me more of mother sometime…" One nice thing of her dying so long ago, was I wouldn't have to pretend to actually know her.

Lady Whent gave a small smile. "Sometime, eh? But not now I take it?" She waved aside my obligatory protest. "No. No. You've done the dutiful thing in paying your respects. Now go to your duties…"

"Indeed. As you mentioned, I had best check on Bolton. And the Pyromancers."

Her gaze sharpened. "But I do expect you will be including me in any further uses of Harrenhall, yes?"

I nodded firmly. "Ohh. Yes. And you will of course be invited to our councils."

She leaned back again, appearing satisfied. "Excellent. Then you may go Edmure. Take Vyman with you as well. He can show you to your little pet pyromancers."

Great. Just what I needed. But I gave another nod of my head and fell into step with Vyman as we exited, Bronn on our heels.

The old Maester hadn't changed much since I last saw him, but he did seem even more pinched and sour than I remembered.

For a long stretch we walked along in an uncomfortable silence. Finally, I slanted my eyes to him as we made our way through the grounds, breaking the silence. "Maester Vyman. You've been well?"

That was probably a mistake to make, and I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth. For a moment a wave of anger washed across his face before he got his emotions under control. "Ohh yes, excellent Lord Edmure."

"Ah… good…"

He forced a smile that was more a grimace. "Indeed. Exiled from my charge and my home to this ruin. Forced to abandon my patient. To watch you undo your father's good work. Forced to consult with mystics and fools. Ohh yes. Excellent. I'm glad you spare a thought for your old Maester."

Bronn seemed highly amused by this. "Actually, I don't think he ever mentioned you."

I sent the sellsword-turned-knight a quelling look. "I'm well aware of the service you've given me by coming here, Maester." Namely, getting out of my hair.

"I live to serve." He ground out. Then came to a pause. "Ahh. And here we are. Your little project."

We came to a halt at yet another one of Harrenhall's impossibly large towers, though this one was filled with cracks and looked half melted. From dragon fire I supposed. As we waited, a balding middle aged man in a set of dark robes approached us swiftly.

"Lord Edmure?" The man half stated and half asked.

Vyman's face twisted up in further distaste. "Lord Edmure. Allow me to introduce you to Wisdom Malliard."

Vyman managed to interject a note of scorn to the title 'wisdom', but the Pyromancer seemed to ignore that, bowing deeply. "Lord Edmure, I am at your service."

I inclined my head. "Wisdom Malliard. I am pleased to meet you. Have you found the accommodations suitable?"

He beamed. "Indeed Lord Edmure. The Wailing Tower has many vaults and caverns. My brethren are still exploring them. It reminds me somewhat of the Guild in Kings Landing."

Vyman's face twisted still further. "They have been making themselves… at home."

Malliard scowled back at the Maester. "As best we can, my lord. But it has been hard to get the supplies we need."

"We are at war, many things are in short supply," Vyman offered in a bland tone of voice.

I pinned the Maester with a look, and let some steel enter my voice. "I'm sorry to hear that Wisdom. If you get us a list of what you need, we will make sure it is given priority."

Vyman gave a brusque and reluctant nod, but Malliard looked overjoyed. "Thank you, Lord Edmure. We are most grateful."

Which brought up an interesting question… "Speaking of, Wisdom. How many from the guild are here?"

He inclined his head. "Besides myself, there are four Wisdom's, and a dozen apprentices. We wished to show you our appreciation for this opportunity."

Vyman interrupted. "An opportunity other lords have been wise to shun."

Malliard sneered back at the Maester. "There are always skeptics who do not appreciate the deeper mysteries."

Vyman drew himself up. "You are charlatans and cheats. Mystics with a single trick…"

"Grey Rat," Malliard practically spat that out, taking a threatening step forwards.

"Enough!" Thankfully my raised voice brought them back to their senses, and both men took a step back.

Malliard sketched a little bow. "I am sorry for speaking out of turn, Lord Edmure. But it is frustrating when our arts are not appreciated. It is why we have been so grateful for this opportunity to open a second guild hall."

I nodded back. "Indeed, and with good service, this might be but the beginning."

Malliard's eyes lit up at that, but Vyman spoke up in protest. "Lord Edmure! No!"

I raised a hand again to silence him. "We will have to see."

It was partly due to my early struggles with Maester Vyman that I said that. I knew that there had been a time when the Pyromancers had wielded more influence. And truth be told, I could see the merit in having something of a counterweight to the Maesters and their monopoly. My 21st century mind rebelled a bit at the idea of a single order controlling all our means of communication, our medicine, and so much else.

Malliard jumped into my silence, eager to press his point. "We have much to offer My Lord. With proper funding… we'd be honored to open another chapter at Riverrun. Perhaps for some of your other lords as well?"

Vyman interrupted again. "That would be a disaster, Edmure. Wildfire in the hands of every jumped up lord?"

I nodded slowly. It was a fair point, the last thing I wanted was every random lord having pots of Wildfire or having to deal with it in sieges. "Indeed. Wildfire must be restricted."

Vyman nodded. "To the king."

Malliard smiled at me in an ingratiating way. "And to the Lord's Paramount of course! The substance is dangerous… not for every lord and Knight. Only those that can be trusted with the responsibility. But we have much to offer besides the substance… many and wondrous are the things we might show you. Ancient spells and deep secrets."

"Mysticism and fraud," Vyman opined.

I wasn't so certain. Knowing Martin, if I had to guess much of the Pyromancer's knowledge likely would be so much drivel. However, I wouldn't be surprised if there were some gems buried in the muck. Still. All of that was for the future.

I turned to the Wisdom, putting Vyman aside for a moment. "There are many possibilities for the future. I urge you to think of how, and in what ways, you could best serve my lords. Focusing on…" I paused thinking of how to phrase this… "practical matters. Sorcery is a sword without a hilt after all."

Malliard bowed his head. "My Lord."

I nodded, continuing on. "Indeed. But that is for the future. After the war. For now, I'm more concerned with immediate matters. How *does* the wildfire production go?"

Malliard paused, considering. "One hundred thirty six jars, Lord Edmure."

I grimaced slightly. "So little, I had hoped for more?"

Vyman looked aghast. "More? That's too much as it is. You're likely to burn us all alive."

Bronn grunted his two cents. "He isn't wrong. Nasty stuff, Pyromancer's piss."

Malliard sent them both a venomous look before focusing back on me. "My Lord. I assure you, we take every precaution. We spent months preparing the new Guild Hall before we even began production. I would be happy to give you a tour, to show you directly."

I kind of was intrigued, but now was not the time. "Perhaps later, Wisdom. But if much of your work so far has been in set-up, can I presume that production will increase?"

He gave a firm nod. "Yes, Lord Edmure. Truth be told, production has been far better than I expected."

I raised an eyebrow. "Ohh?"

He gave an oily smile. "Yes. I have long tracked the production of the substance. For some reason our spells have been more… potent… since coming here. It is most odd."

Maester Vyman scowled. "If you are rushing production you endanger us all!"

Malliard gave a shake of his head. "We rush nothing. The substance flows through my very veins, all pyromancers respect its power. No. Perhaps it has something to do with Harrenhall itself? It has known fire and flame before, and the spells take well here."

That, or perhaps it had to do with Dany's dragons? Either way, irrelevant to the matter at hand. "And considering that, what can we expect production wise?"

Malliard paused, considering. "It depends on how much time we have, my lord. Several hundred pots certainly. Perhaps more."

I gave a grunt. "Excellent. Then I want you to also to focus on how we are going to transport the stuff."

Malliard looked aghast at that. "My Lord, the substance is delicate and dangerous. Not for transport. The slightest bump…"

Vyman let out a low moan. "Lord Edmure, you can't expect simple men-at-arms to transport this…"

I gave a small smile. "Ahh. Something you two agree on." I got my amusement under control, pressing on. "But it makes no matter. The wildfire is useless to me here. I don't expect Harrenhall to be under siege."

"My Lord!" Malliard protested.

I gave him a level look. "Give it some thought. I've long heard of the wonders of construction in your guild hall. Surely you can devise some safe means to transport the stuff."

The Wisdom looked unconvinced. "Yes, my lord."

I gave him a reassuring smile. "Think of it this way, Wisdom. This is a test. Show me you have the skills to get the job done, and it will demonstrate to all the Riverlords how practical and helpful it would be to have an Alchemist to help them solve *their* problems.

The Pyromancer perked up at this, eyes going distant as he seemed to start calculating how to go about transporting several hundred pots of dangerous explosives.

I gave a satisfied smile. If this went well, it could be the edge I needed in the next battle. A firm nod as I turned, leaving the man to his musings.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The regular council meetings had turned into a far greater waste of time than I had expected. The Northerners bickered with the Riverlords. The Brackens with the Blackwoods. The Freys with the Mallisters. The Boltons with the Manderlys. The whole thing was headache inducing. Truth be told, I half suspected Bolton of stirring the pot just to make sure I regretted the decision to usurp his authority. I couldn't prove it though.

I resisted the urge to cradle my head in my hands as Blackwood thundered. "Now is the time to March! Now I say!"

Bolton murmured something I couldn't hear over the din. I gave a sigh. "I'm sorry, Lord Bolton you said?"

He leaned forward again, and this time the other lords fell silent to hear his whispers. "Robb Stark's victory at Oxcross has left the Lannisters in a vulnerable position."

"Exactly!" Blackwood thundered. "Now is the time to march on Tywin and finish him!"

A low murmur of agreement went up from the Riverlords at that. Many of them were still smarting from Bolton's earlier words at Harroway's Town, and eager to prove their worth with another victory. Yesterday, word had reached us of Robb's victory. Ever since, the lords had been chomping at the bit to engage the Lannisters. Still, even if I hadn't promised Robb not to interfere with Tywin, the idea of trying to assault a fortified town didn't appeal to me.

Stevron Frey seemed to share my thoughts. "My Lords, it still remains folly to assault such a large host behind walls."

Rodrik Ryswell smirked. The man was a close ally of Boltons, and I had noticed he often seemed to serve as some sort of stalking horse to stir up trouble and anger. His words soon proved me right. "Indeed, you need not worry. I'm sure King Robb will give us another Northern victory if we wait long enough."

Blackwood gave out another roar of anger at that, and Bracken looked near as incensed.

"My lords!" I thundered to get their attention, trying to head off another fight. "This arguing serves us naught." I tried to inject some finality into my words. "We have not the men to march on Tywin directly."

The lords mostly subsided into an unruly silence at that. Finally, Bracken spoke up. "Might we not look into raising additional forces if that is what holds us back? I hear there is a new Northern host gathering at the Moat. Might we not appeal to them to come and give us the numbers needed?"

I shook my head. The last thing I was about to do was undo my work to stop the Ironborn invasion. "No, they are needed where they are. Besides, it would take them far too long to reach us."

Sad lord Vance cleared his throat. Tywin's raiding was centered near his lands, and I knew it hit him hard. "What of the reinforcements from Maidenpool?"

Marq gave a fierce grin at that. "Edmure's sellswords have finally arrived."

I gave a grunt. I had some other plans for those men, but this council meeting wasn't the time to share them. "We will have to see. They are still some ways from us."

Bolton turned his unnerving eyes on me. "Still. We must do something. I dislike this waiting, while the Ironborn raid our coasts. What purpose to keep our men south to sit here while our homes burn?"

The Northern lords let out a low rumble of agreement at that.

Before I could answer, we were interrupted by a dry cough. My steward, Utherydes, getting our attention. "My lords, I'm sorry to interrupt. But there is a man from the Night's Watch asking to speak with you. He says it is urgent."

Halys Hornwood looked up at that, blinking. As was usual since I'd met the man, he was drunk and confused. I doubted he even knew where we were. "The… the Night's Watch? Here?"

Stevron Frey made an irritated huff. "Well, tell him he can wait till we are done. We have more important matters to settle."

I was inclined to agree with Stevron, but Lady Whent interrupted him before I could. "House Whent has long been friends of the Watch! I will not have the good brother wait like some beggar."

Several of the northern lords rumbled agreement with my aunt, and I gave a small nod to Utherydes. There seemed no point in not allowing the brother to come and beg for men, or supplies, or whatever he was here for. If nothing else, it might win me a few cheap points with the Northerners.

A few minutes later, my steward returned, leading a stooped and twisted individual with a dirty young boy following him. If Utherydes had not said he was from the Night's Watch, I might not have guessed he was a black brother at all, for his robes were more grey than black.

Still, no reason to be rude. I cleared my throat and got to my feet. "Please. Be at ease. The Night's Watch is always welcome here. What can we do for you?"

The man cocked his his head, studying me. "Lord Edmure?"

I nodded my head. The man glanced around for a few minutes, hand running through his tangled beard. Something about him was tickling the back of my mind, but I couldn't quite place it.

Finally, he turned back to me. "Begging m'lord's pardon. But it might be best to talk more privately."

Marq gave an obvious and rather offensive eye roll. "Come off it man. You've already interrupted the council. Out with it."

Lord Bolton gave what I imagined was meant to be a reassuring smile, though frankly I thought it rather creepy. "You are among friends. Please, speak your thoughts."

Still the man hesitated, looking at me. Impatiently I gave him an encouraging nod. "Yes, please. How can we help you."

"Well." He hesitated another minute before continuing on. "Its on account of Benjen Stark. His blood runs black. Makes the Starks something like family. On his account I brought the boy. Girl."

Ohh shit. Suddenly the niggling in the back of my head made sense. I realized who this was. This wasn't the place… but it was too late now. The Black Brother was pushing his companion forward.

The girl was dirty and ragged, but now that I knew what I was looking for I could see it. She gave me a hesitant look, seeming uncertain. "Uncle… uncle Edmure?"

To my left, Roose Bolton's head shot up sharply. Pale eyes taking on a look of avarice and understanding as they narrowed in on the girl

Halfway down the table, Medger Cerwyn let out a sudden gasp of shock. "Arya Stark!?"

A/N: Well there we go. I feel like for this whole story Edmure's been sending people to Harrenhall, and now I had to try and weld all those different plot-lines back together! Also, for those wondering on my decision to make Shella Whent Edmure's aunt. That is not actually in the books, no. But I considered it a logical deduction. We know that it is Shella Whent, not her husband, who inherited Harrenhall (from her father). We also know that Hoster Tully married a Whent. While it does make logical sense for Hoster to marry a Whent, who are one of his most powerful bannermen, I can't see the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands being fobbed off to some cousin of the Lord of Harrenhall. Makes no sense. So much more likely that he married the younger daughter of the Lord of Harrenhall (who married his elder daughter to a Whent cousin to keep the family name going). The books don't mention a family relationship of the Tully's to Lady Whent at all (whether aunt or cousin), but clearly there is *some* connection. I chalk up the relationship not being mentioned in the books to a combination of Martin having bigger things to focus on, and IC to the fact that Cat/Edmure's mother died a long time ago and they likely are not close. And then have bigger things to worry about than some distant aunt they never met. So a guess on my part, but a guess well founded in my opinion.

Also, I just can't seem to fit that Lyman scene in. I felt like I was jumping around too much as is, and didn't want to add another mini 500 word scene with him. At some point I may post it as an 'aside' for people who are curious. But it is not that crucial to the plot.

Finally. I'd appreciate some feedback from folks on whether to do an Interlude chapter from Renly's camp. A few folks have been requesting that. On the one hand, I always like playing around with other character POVs. On the other, I'm not sure how important such a chapter would be to the plot of the story. Thoughts on whether to have this interlude, and whose pov to use if so, are welcome!