cp17

Chapter 16

I was mostly tuning out Wisdom Malliard, focusing just enough to get the gist of what he was saying. Finally, I halted the man's speech with a raised hand. "So, we can safely label your experiment as a success?"

The man bobbed his head in agreement. "Yes, Lord Edmure. There have been a few… accidents…" I managed to keep a straight face at a giant wagon of wildfire tipping over being called an 'accident' "but on the whole the experiment has been a success."

I gave a slow nod. "I assume we can expect most of the wildfire to be usable in the upcoming battle?"

Malliard gave a wicked smile at that. "Most certainly, Lord Edmure. As I said, we can likely expect a few more accidents. But most of the substance should survive the journey."

I gave a grunt. I had to admit, Malliard and his pyromancers had found a workable and simple solution. The wildfire was simply transported in large wagons filled with sand. Each wagon had a removable 'plug' on the bottom, and come the appropriate time it would be easy to drain most of the sand from the wagons. Accidents still occurred, but with the jars smothered in sand the injuries and spread of the 'substance' had been limited. The men were still wary as hell about the wagons, but that was probably for the best.

"My Lord…" Malliard licked his lips. "With this success, perhaps you are willing to consider again the matter we discussed?"

"Mmm?" I pulled my attention back to the man.

"The additional chapter houses Lord Edmure?"

Ohh, yes. I had promised that, hadn't I? Still, it seemed like a good idea. A nice way to counter-balance the influence of the Maesters. I gave the Wisdom my best lordly nod. "Indeed, Wisdom Malliard. I see great potential in the idea. Once we've taken Kings Landing, you may send to your guild and we will set up a chapter at Riverrun."

Unspoken was the fact that if both Riverrun and Harrenhall contained a chapter of Pyromancers, other Riverlords would soon copy us. It was simply how things worked in Westeros. Whether it was wanting to curry favour with their liege lord, seeing having pyromancers as a sign of prestige, or simply worry about missing some edge, other Riverlords would soon copy me. I sensed a bit of a revival coming to the pyromancer's fortunes.

Malliard must have agreed with my assessment, because he looked like the cat who had gotten into the cream. "Thank you Lord Edmure. A most wise decision. You will not…"

I cut the man off with another raised hand, my eyes narrowed as I looked at who was approaching. "I look forward to hearing more, Wisdom. We will have to talk in-depth at a later time… it seems I am needed at the moment."

Malliard followed my gaze, and his eyes widened in understanding. "Of course Lord Edmure." The man sketched a hasty bow and made off as fast as he could.

Not that I could blame him. As I eyed the incoming Frey and Bolton contingents, I had a feeling I wasn't going to like what was coming next. Not that it was unusual to have lords approaching me. We were an enormous army on the march, and Bolton was leading almost half my army while the Frey's had a large contingent as well. But both of them coming at the same time? Both unusual and worrisome.

"Lord Bolton. Lord Ryswell. Lord Freys." I greeted each of the men in turn. I couldn't greet Bronn of course, but we did make eye contact. I have to admit it felt particularly odd to have him trailing behind Bolton instead of myself. Made my shoulders itch somewhat.

The Frey contingent, both Stevron and his grandson, remained stony faced.

Bolton had his troublesome half-smile. "Lord Edmure. Glad tidings for you."

I raised an eyebrow. "Word on my nephew Bran?"

News had come in days ago that Theon Greyjoy had made an attempt on Winterfell. Allegedly, as he was scaling the castle and laying waste to the defenders, Ramsay Bolton came upon the rear of his forces. Supposedly Bolton's bastard had been marching to Winterfell to join Ser Rodrick's host when he saw the Ironborn assaulting the castle and rode in to save the day. Of course in the chaos, Ser Rodrick had conveniently died along with several of Winterfell's guardsmen. Bran Stark had also gone missing in the chaos, though supposedly Rickon was nice and 'safe.'

Allegedly. The whole story stank to high heaven to me. Not least because as I recalled Theon attempted to take Winterfell with a few dozen men at night. I suppose the time-line could have changed, but Bolton's miraculous arrival and the convenient death of Ser Rodrick? No, colour me suspicious. Of course I had no real evidence to call Bolton on.

Bolton's expression soured slightly at that. "No. No word on Prince Bran. But I'm sure he will be found. My bastard searches high and low for him. Prince Rickon has been most distraught by his brother's absence, but Ramsay has the the young lad well proected."

I gave a non-committal grunt at that. "Indeed. What is that title Ramsay goes by?"

"Some have taken to calling him the Protector of Winterfell."

"Have they now?"

My skepticism must have shown, as Bolton gave a small shrug and continued in his whisper. "The smallfolk do love their titles. My bastard merely does his duty."

"An impressive title." I let my skepticism into my voice. "And yet I've heard disturbing rumors and stories. Is such a man a good protector for my nephew? Can he be trusted to bring my other nephew back home safely?"

Bolton cocked his head. "That will be for his Grace to judge. His Grace must weigh my bastard's alleged crimes against his services. But for his actions, Winterfell even now would be in the hands of the squid. And in the meantime we shall keep the young Prince safe."

I opened my mouth to make another retort, but Stevron Frey slammed his hands together. "Enough! Enough of this prattle. We are not here to talk of wolf-spawn or Northern Barbarians."

I blinked. That was very unlike the normally diplomatic Frey.

Before I could respond, the hot-headed Lord Ryswell had his hand on his sword. "Watch yourself Southerner…"

Black Walder, not content with innuendo drew his sword entirely. "Or what, barbarian?"

"Enough!" I tried to make my voice firm and kept a cold gaze on Black Walder. For a long moment the silence stretched until a barely visible twitch from Stevron had his grandson sheathing his blade.

"Someone…" I paused, gathering my thoughts. "Someone want to tell me what is going on?"

Bolton's little smile was back as he passed me a message scroll. "You've not heard? Congratulations are in order."

I scanned the message quickly. Shit. I'd half expected this. But still. "This is… this is definite?"

"There is no doubt." Stevron's voice was icy rage. "We are dishonored. Betrayed."

Black Walder's face was more red than black. "By some pepper trader's get."

Bolton's voice took on an edge of warning, though amusement still warred in them. "Watch your tongue Frey, that is the queen you talk of."

Black Walder looked ready to explode, but Stevron was still icy calm. "No Queen of ours. But more fools us to trust in Stark Honor."

Bolton gave an elaborate shrug. "No vows were made. Words are wind."

I resisted the urge to massage my aching head. "What was Robb thinking?"

Bolton smiled faintly. "He was reportedly inconsolable about his brother going missing. Her grace treated his wounds and… consoled him."

"He gave us his word." Each word was ground out in pure fury from Stevron. "This is an insult for us to be passed over in such a manner."

Black Walder gave a curt nod and a look black as his name. "We will march for the Twins. Frey men won't bleed and die for this betrayal. My sisters passed over for some trader's get?"

Another shrug from Bolton. "Queen Jeyne's pedigree cannot be doubted. She is from an ancient lineage on her father's side. Few houses can compare to it…"

I sent the man a look. That was calculated to be salt on the Frey's wounds. Black Walder was bubbling, and the smug look on Bolton's face was making it worse. No doubt the man was using this as an opportunity to create further divides between the two hosts in my army.

"Lord Bolton…" I paused, trying to sort my thoughts. I'd had plans for this contingency. I'd hoped it wouldn't come to it, but I'd known it was a possibility. "Lord Bolton… thank you for your… news. I require a few moments alone with my bannermen now."

He inclined his head, seemingly polite in his victory. "Of course Lord Edmure. I must see to my men as well. Even in these troubled times, the men will wish to celebrate his Grace's good news."

The Freys tensed behind me at that last barb, but I merely nodded my head and waited until Bolton and his men had moved out of earshot before turning to face the Freys.

Stevron had taken the pause to compose himself, but I could still see the anger radiating from him. "Edmure. Edmure! This is a rank betrayal of the highest order. Robb Stark gave us his word! To break it like this? It is unacceptable. Without honor."

I gave a sharp nod. "Yes. It is."

Both Frey's paused at that, clearly taken aback. Apparently they had expected some sort of argument or defense from me. I took advantage of their confusion to press on. "There is no doubt that Robb has dishonored you. I almost can't believe it… a disgrace."

Stevron had his head cocked studying me, but Black Walder simply rushed on, face twisted in anger as he repeated himself. "All bargains are off! This betrayal? We will take our men back to the Twins with us. We won't bleed for some traitor's cause!"

I nodded my head slowly. "Certainly. All bargains you struck with Robb are your own business." I placed an emphasis on the name Robb. "After this betrayal? I doubt anyone expects a house as honorable as the Freys to continue to associate with the Starks."

Black Walder looked like he was about to interject at that, but I continued right on over him. "As your liege lord, you can be assured I will back my loyal vassals when it comes time to confront the Starks over this betrayal."

And I didn't even stutter when calling them honorable or loyal.

Black Walder looked even more taken aback now. "You… you support us taking our men back home?"

Stevron sent his grandson a withering look. "Of course he doesn't…"

I put on a face of innocent confusion. "Take your troops home? But why?"

Walder had his black scowl back again. "What game are you playing Edmure? This betrayal…"

I cut him off. "Was Robb Stark's betrayal. Not mine. House Tully has betrayed nothing. And your vows were to House Tully, not Stark. If you choose to pull your horse back from Robb? That is your business. But by what right would your men leave my host?"

Black Walder looked like he was about to respond, but Stevron stopped him with a raised hand. Shrewd eyes narrowed in on me. "Lord Edmure. There is some truth in what you say. But only some. This betrayal may not have been yours, but this is your nephew. Your family and ally who has betrayed us."

I spread my hands. "My nephew. But not a Tully. Have I not been a friend to House Frey? Helped you when you asked me to? In the matter of Arya? In all your negotiations?"

A slow nod from Stevron. "Truth be told, I like you Edmure. But for us to simply swallow this dishonor? To ignore it and march alongside you and those northern barbarians as though nothing has happened? My father would never stand for it. I cannot stand for it."

"Mmm." Internally I was sighing. I knew what I had to offer. "I understand the concern. Then… it will be important for us to demonstrate the esteem and honor of House Frey, of the bonds between Frey and Tully, in such a way that it cannot be disputed."

I'd been hoping to avoid it truth be told, to hold out for a better match. But I had always known it might come to this. I didn't doubt in the long-term there were better matches for me to make. But in the immediate? I couldn't afford the Freys to up and leave with their forces, or the unrest that would sow between the Northerners and the Riverlanders. Not so close to Kings Landing.

Black Walder gave a low growl. "What the hells are you talking about?"

Stevron gave an exasperated sigh at his grandson's denseness. "Lord Edmure is offering himself in marriage."

I inclined my head in agreement. "Indeed. Stark has dishonored you, but this will show the esteem and honor your house still holds."

Black Walder was still suspicious. "Another empty promise? We support you and you marry? Who? When?"

I focused on Stevron instead of Walder. "I trust your judgment on the match Stevron. Perhaps your sister Roslyn? Perhaps Marianne Vance? Even in Riverrun, word of your granddaughter's virtues have been heard."

Stevron's eyes gleamed as I mentioned Marianne. "Perhaps. My Marianne is a sweet girl…" She was technically not a Frey, but he seemed to like the idea of seeing his granddaughter as Lady of Riverrun. I wondered what his father would think if Stevron pushed his own Granddaughter instead of one of Walder's daughters

My eyes switched to Black Walder. "As to when. House Tully is not one to make empty promises. We will wed at Riverrun as soon as the battle has ended.

Stevron looked a good deal calmer now, a considering look in his eyes. "Mayhaps…"

I smiled, and pressed on. "Of course, if we are to be kin then I expect your loyalty. Your *complete* loyalty. Kin backs kin after all. In battle. In council. I want your support. I don't expect you to like the Northerners, but I expect you to keep your men in line as well."

Black Walder scowled. "You ask for much. By what right do you make demands? You need us."

I smiled sweetly at the man, which seemed to piss him off even more. "Mayhaps." I echoed his grandfather. "Mayhaps. As to what right? As your liege lord. Of course, you can decline my offer. Take your troops home." I paused, before pressing on. "Then, if we lose the battle, all the Riverlands will know it was your pride that cost it. And if we win despite you? Well. My father taught me well how to deal with rebellious lords."

Walder looked like he was about to have a fit. "You dare? You dare threaten us after this betrayal? You…"

Stevron cut him off with a hand to the younger Frey's shoulder. "Enough, Walder. It is simply the stick. The stick and the carrot."

The old man studied me again for a long moment, rheumy eyes squinting. Finally he gave a firm nod. "Very well, Lord Edmure. I will write to my father. And as our liege lord… and soon to be family… you will of course have our full support."

Black Walder looked resigned, though not pleased. "The wedding should be at the Twins."

I resisted the urge to snort. Yeah… *that* was never happening. Instead I forced another smile. "The Twins are far. And I'm sure none of us wish to delay the wedding. Riverrun is far closer."

Stevron waved the argument aside, clearly more focused on the bigger picture. "Yes, yes. Riverrun is fine. But Edmure, don't think this means we are forgiving the Starks. We are loyal to house Tully…."

I nodded and lied. "That goes without saying."

Stevron was not done though. "Indeed. But the Starks have still betrayed us."

"Yes. And you have my support when it comes to confronting Robb and how he has acted… after the war. And within reason." The last seemed an important addition just on the off-chance they started dreaming up some Red Wedding scenario.

Stevron finally gave a grudging agreement back. "As you say. We must deal with the immediate. You can count on our support Edmure. As my father always says, you must always back the family."

I took his hand in a firm grip. "Frey loyalty will not be forgotten…" I forced myself not to choke on the next word… "grandfather…"

—

We were met at the Kingsroad by Lymond Goodbrook. I hadn't seen my friend in what seemed like ages, and the months had not been kind to him. He was drawn, with circles under his eyes, and a vaguely exhausted cast to his face.

"Edmure!" Lymond practically threw himself at me, relief on his face. "Edmure. Thank the gods you are finally here."

"Ahh. Lymond. It is good to see you, you look…" I struggled to find a platitude that wouldn't also be a lie.

My friend gave a snort of humor that almost transformed his face back to what I remembered. "I look like shit Edmure. You're never sending me on a mission again."

Marq came up behind me, squinting at our mutual friend. "That bad?"

Lymond gave another snort. "I was sick the entire journey. But that was the fun part. Dealing with the Company of The Cat is like… well… like herding cats. And Bloodbeard and Mooton? Gods. Never again Edmure. I tell you, never again."

I gave an amused head shake. "I'll keep that in mind. Where is Mooton and this Bloodbeard?"

Lymond jerked his thumb behind us. "Waiting for you in the command tent. And may you have better luck at it than I did."

Marq looked curious. "What's so bad about them?"

Lymond made a face. "Bloodbeard is a blood-thirsty barbarian. And Mooton is a coward. They make a horrible pair. Mooton's petrified of the Swellswords, but won't let them leave his sight. We've been moving at a snail's pace since we landed here.

"Yes. I can tell." I tried to keep the dryness out of my voice as I made my way to the tent, a knot of my Riverlords behind me. No Northerners were with us. Since the trouble with the Freys, I'd been forced to keep the two halves of the army at arms-length.

"Lord Edmure." Mooton had gotten up as soon as I entered, practically fawning over me. "It is an honor to have you…"

The large red bearded man, who had to be Bloodbeard, continued to lean back in his chair. "So… you're the boy lord?"

Before I could speak, Jason Mallister's icy voice echoed from behind me. "That is Lord Edmure Tully."

Bloodbeard let out a low booming laugh. "I've not been impressed with these lords over here so far."

Mooton let out a low moan. "Lord Edmure, do you see what I've been forced to deal with? This sellsword has no respect. No decency."

Bloodbeard sneered at Mooton. "I don't respect flabby little cows."

Mooton gave another beseeching moan to me. It really did sound rather bovine. "Lord Edmure! You see what I'm forced to put up with?"

My natural inclination was, I admitted, to be diplomatic when dealing with troublesome lords. But from what I remembered from the books, Bloodbeard was likely purposely challenging me to see if I would rein him in. So probably best to be a little more direct.

As such, I gave them all a level look. "To date, I've not been too impressed with either of you. Lord Mooton, your men were sorely missed at Harroway Town." My eyes focused on Bloodbeard. "I hired your sellswords to help fight a war, not meander around the Kingsroad while the rest of us do the bleeding."

Mooton looked cowed, but Bloodbeard was anything but. "You can blame the fat lord for that. You think I like babysitting this fat fool? I came here to crack skulls, not to sit on our arses or march back and forth. I want blood, spoils, war."

Mooton was wringing his hands. "Lord Edmure! They wouldn't do what I told them! I couldn't leave the sellswords unattended. What was I supposed to do?"

Mallister was giving the man an exasperated look. "You had six thousand swords with you Mooton. If this sellsword won't honor his contract, you make him."

Bloodbeard was on his feet at that. "No man makes the Company of The Cat do anything lordling. You think my men aren't worth two of this fat fools?"

Yes, this was a man who respected force. Not sweet words.

I turned conversationally to Lord Mallister. "Jason, how many Rivermen do I have with me?"

The stoic lord grunted. "Eighteen Thousand or there abouts Lord Edmure."

I nodded. "And our northern friends?"

"Nearly twenty thousand."

"And Lord Mooton?"

Mallister saw what I was getting at, and a ghost of a smile filtered across his face. "Six thousand."

"And the Company of The Cat?"

This time it was Lyman who answered. "Three Thousand, Edmure."

I nodded and turned back to Bloodbeard. "My math is poor, I admit. But that to me sounds like more than enough to make you do whatever I want…"

Bloodbeard growled. "Is that a threat, boy?"

I put on my sweetest smile. "No, captain. Simply an observation. Now… you took contract with me. Do you intend to honor it? Or do you intend to return to the free cities?"

Bloodbeard sat back down, leaning back in his chair and studying me for a long moment. Finally he gave a gruff nod. "We honor our word. We'll honor the contract. Least you seem less a fool than this ass…" his hands motioned to a sputtering Mooton.

I thought back to what Stevron had said a few days back. That was the stick, I'd have to remember to give him the carrot as well. "Good. Now, perhaps we can get down to business. Lyman?"

The young Darry boy who had been paging for me hurried over, rolling out a map for all of us to observe. I leaned over it, studying it carefully. "What do we know of the Lannister forces? And Stannis?"

Mooton avoided meeting my eyes, and Bloodbeard just gave a shrug.

I avoided, narrowly, pinching my nose between my fingers. "So… you've been sitting here all this time and have no idea what our enemies are doing?"

Mooton and friends continued to avoid eye contact. Sighing, I turned to the lords behind me.

Mallister gave a head shake. "Unknown Lord Edmure. Stannis is reportedly marching on Kings Landing. And Tywin has slipped into the Westerlands. But beyond that?"

Stevron Frey chimed in. "Rumor has it the Tyrells are on the march too. But to where I couldn't say."

I grunted. "Well. That seems to be the first thing that's going to change here. We'll need scouts out as we march."

"March?" Mooton stuttered.

Mallister gave the fat lord his levelest look before turning back to me. "You mean to continue on to Kings Landing Lord Edmure?"

"Yes. And your men *will* keep up." That last was to the malingering Mooton.

Mooton just gave a shaky nod, but Bloodbeard spoke up at that. "My men are itching for a battle. And that's a mighty host you've got behind you. But I've heard stories of these others. My men have no interest in a losing fight."

Patrek Mallister spoke up for the first time, with a mischievous smile that stood out all the more when compared to his stoic father. "All our enemies seem to be conveniently converging. Seems like Kings Landing is the place to be. Would be a shame to miss the party."

I shot my friend a fondly exasperated look. "Indeed. Our chiefest advantage is that all of our enemies hate each other far worse than us…"

Stevron was slowly stroking his chin as he considered my words. "So, timing will be everything in this plan? Let our enemies weaken each other then strike?"

I nodded. "Exactly. And for that to work we need to know where our enemies are… and for them to not know where we are."

And now, time for that carrot. I turned back to Bloodbeard. "Are your sellswords ready to earn their gold?"

The man's eyes were narrowed in consideration. "What did you have in mind?"

I schooled my features to seriousness, and tried not to think too deeply about the hell I was about to unleash. Sometimes, ignorance was bliss. "Our enemies may not know exactly where our army is, but thanks to your…" I searched for the word I wanted… "deliberate pace, everyone under the sun knows you and Mooton are here. Well. Its time to put that to good use. I want you to go ahead of us at a fast pace and disrupt the Crownlands. Put their fields to the torch, cause all the mayhem and destruction you can…"

Bloodbeard let out a booming laugh at that, and I could see the greed in his eyes. "Ohh. Now THIS is a plan I like. These Crownlanders seem a soft lot, and the men have been getting bored, they will like this."

Mallister was frowning in disapproval. "The Crownlands will burn if you do this. To what point?"

But Stevron clearly saw what I was driving at. "Our enemies will simply see sellswords running amok. Not a large host on the march. And with so much chaos, it will be impossible to track our movements or decipher fact from rumor."

I agreed. "Its a distraction. Your men are all ahorse. You should be able to out pace our host. And while your company is putting our enemies to the sword and gathering intelligence on their movements, more importantly you will be putting their *scouts* to the sword. I want them blind to our approach, or at least blind to our exact movements."

Stevron was nodding again. "Aye. And if we use these sellswords, well who expects sellswords to do aught but pillage and burn? It will not seem suspicious."

Mallister still looked disapproving, and I did not blame him. Truth be told if I dwelt on it too much on it, it made my own insides squirm. But I needed something to hide my movements. Similar to how Tyrion's clansmen had cleared out Stannis scouts. With luck, even if they knew I was approaching they wouldn't know my exact position. And besides, I tried to rationalize to myself, this was just how war worked in Westeros. Even Robb was pillaging and burning in the west. It still made me feel oddly guilty though. Dirty too.

Bloodbeard was laughing though. "Ohh I like you, boy. You're much better than this fat fool…" the giant jerked his finger to a stuttering Mooton.

I gave a shallow nod, not exactly pleased to be praised by such a man. Still, what mattered was getting things done. "Very well my lords. You know what to do. Let the men rest the night. We will continue the march at dawn."

The others murmured agreement as they filed out to their duties. We had a battle to fight, and a war to win.

A/N: Took a little longer than I expected because I ended up rewriting the Bolton/Frey scene a couple of times. Still not perfectly happy with it, but there we go. Hah, and almost had to gag on Edmure's behalf when it came to calling Stevron grandfather. I also admit I picked Marianne in part just to subvert the trope of every character that marries a Frey (Robb or Edmure) always marrying Roslyn in fanfiction. Besides, he is negotiating with Stevron who will probably care more about his granddaughter. And I doubt Lord Frey will care a *ton* since Marianne is one of the folks he was going to offer to Robb.

Anyway, next two chapters should be the battle. I'm toying with the idea of making them from multiple povs (Edmure and others) to try and give a 360 view of the battle. Originally was going to be one chapter from Edmure then one interlude chapter from other POVs. But I think that will mess with the chronology a bit too much. And if it is just from Edmure, too much of the fight will be 'telling' as opposed to 'showing.' So I think this is a good compromise. Lots of snippets, some from Edmure some from others.