As night fell, the camp was no longer bright with firelight. Tyrion stood at the riverbank, looking toward Riverrun. It too lay in darkness. Not a flicker of flame showed; everyone hid in the shadows. The Blackfish liked the dark. He had only a hundred men—just a hundred—but if he launched a direct assault, he could kill five hundred of Tyrion's.
"Cousin."
Daven stumbled out of the tent behind him, reeking of wine. "Come back, let's keep drinking."
"Don't forget the message!"
Tyrion punched him in the side.
"Sent it, sent it! Didn't forget!"
Inside the command tent, the atmosphere was lively. Edmure Tully sat in the most prominent seat as if he were the host here. Marq Piper sat right beside him—Edmure's close friend, now sharing in his unexpected good fortune. Who would have thought being a captive could feel this pleasant?
Greatjon sat across from them, drinking, laughing, and crying all at once.
"Ah, Lord Lannister! Regent of Winterfell!"
Edmure was so drunk he could barely stay upright, his auburn hair plastered to his forehead, wet with either sweat or spilled wine.
Knights and minor lords around them lifted their cups.
"Heir to Casterly Rock! Guardian of the Riverlands! Regent of Winterfell!"
Tyrion couldn't tell if they were flattering him or mocking him.
Daven pushed him into a chair and shoved a cup into his hand.
"Come on, cousin. Drink."
"To Edmure Tully, Lord of Riverrun," Tyrion said, raising his cup. "A man soon to be a father."
"Ah…"
Edmure mumbled. "We should've brought Perwyn. He's my brother-in-law."
"No, don't let that weasel's stink foul this place," Greatjon said, shaking his head. "None of them. Not a single one."
"He's a good man," Daven said. "After bringing Roslin to us, he stayed in our camp. He doesn't like Edwyn or that Frey bastard."
"You'll spare him, right?"
Edmure asked Tyrion, eyes red. "You won't hang my wife's brothers and sisters?"
"My targets are Stevron Frey's children, and every Frey who took part in the Red Wedding."
Tyrion took a drink. "Anyone unconnected to those two things lives."
"Ah, then you're in trouble," Greatjon roared with laughter, nearly choking. "Perwyn's brother, Benfrey Frey, he tried to lay hands on Dacey Mormont!"
"Benfrey's dead," Marq Piper muttered, eyes half-closed. "He was wounded and didn't make it…"
"If he hadn't died, I'd pay a thousand gold dragons…"
"Mellister… Patrek Mallister," Edmure murmured. "Poor Patrek…"
"He's locked up in Seagard!" Piper said. "The heir to Seagard, imprisoned in his own family's castle."
Tyrion drank two more cups, then got up and left the tent. He needed a quiet place to rest; they were leaving for Seagard in the morning. Behind him, the shouts from the tent rose again—likely retelling stories of the Battle of the Red Fork. Edmure's most glorious battle had become a foolish victory.
...
The next morning, Greatjon, Edmure, and the others were too hungover to get out of bed. They weren't needed for the trip to Seagard, but their lack of discipline still made Tyrion frown.
Daven, Sansa, Arya, and Brienne came to see him off.
"It'll be fine," Daven told the ladies. "Black Walder doesn't have the guts to harm Lord Tyrion."
"How many men do they have?"
Sansa asked.
"Eight hundred. Mostly cavalry," Tyrion answered honestly, savoring the worry on Sansa's face.
"You're going to fight them?"
Sansa asked, anxious. A noble lady might not know war, but she could count—she knew exactly how many men were in this camp.
"I'm going to crush them."
"Then you're dead," Arya said.
"I won't die. Black Walder wouldn't dare hurt me," Tyrion sneered. "He'll capture me…"
"And torture you!"
"No. He'll want to be my brother-in-law."
Tyrion grinned. "Sansa is my betrothed. He'll force me to marry you off to him." He saw Arya tense. "Of course, to save my own life, I'd have to hand you over."
"Don't scare the child," Brienne cut in. "I'm going with you."
"Honestly, I wanted Greatjon with me," Tyrion said, nodding toward the barracks. "But clearly he drank too much last night."
"Half a barrel," Daven said. "He drank half our week's supply. Should I come with you?"
"No, you stay here," Tyrion replied. "I don't trust Frey. Edwyn hates Black Walder and hopes for a fight, but we still need to watch for them turning on us."
"I'll be careful."
Tyrion patted his cousin's shoulder.
"Pod, help me mount."
Five hundred fully armed Lannister soldiers waited—half with pikes, half with swords and shields—and all carrying crossbows. Five hundred crossbows in total, emptying the Frey armory.
Seagard stood on the western coast of the Riverlands, inside the Cape of Eagles near the headwaters of the Blue Fork. It had been built to resist the ironborn raids. Though it wasn't far from Riverrun, the journey still took a day and a half to two days.
Tyrion planned to form his battle line at dawn, backs to the rising sun and facing Seagard. He calculated their arrival time with precision.
"Those scouts." Brienne pointed toward the hills. "Are they Freys?"
"Either Freys or the Brotherhood Without Banners," Tyrion said. "Without Bronn and the mountain clans, our scouts are useless now."
"We shouldn't go into battle without scouts," the knight warned. "It's too dangerous."
"When did you learn about marching and fighting?"
"I haven't, but I've seen it."
"In theory, yes. In practice, it doesn't matter. Pod, listen closely—today you're in for something," Tyrion said. "Black Walder is hot-tempered. Maybe he's a competent commander, but to me he's just a fool."
"Even if he knew I was coming, he wouldn't call for reinforcements. First, he's at odds with Edwyn. Rumor says he's been intimate with countless women—his cousins, his kin's wives—he's certainly not someone who shares his thoughts with a brother."
"And he'll never call for aid from the Twins. Old Walder Frey won't risk angering the Lannisters. If word reached the Lord of Crossing, Old Walder would order him to stay inside Seagard, refuse battle, and sort everything out through letters."
"So what are you saying?" Brienne frowned.
"First, he'll lead all his cavalry out to meet me. He'll demand Arya Stark in exchange for the Mallister hostages, hoping to scare me off," Tyrion said. "If that doesn't work, he'll try to break me and claim the honor he wants, force me to hand over little Arya, then fight Edwyn for the position of Lord Frey."
...
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