In the study of Riverrun, autumn wind drifted through the room, carrying the sound of running water.
Tyrion, Sansa, and Edmure listened as Blackfish told his story.
"That Walder Rivers… he has a bit of a brain, but not much," Brynden Tully said, leaning against the window. "He began to suspect the shortage at Riverrun was a lie and went to the granaries to see for himself."
Tyrion knew well that Riverrun's storehouses were piled high with barley.
"He stood in front of the sacks, counting them one layer at a time," Blackfish went on. "I was hiding right on top. When he was stretching his fingers to count the last of them, I kicked down hard. Ha!"
"Buried him alive," Tyrion said. "Poor weasel. Like a chicken thief crushed by a falling stone."
"About thirty sacks landed on him," Blackfish continued. "By the time we dug him out, most of his ribs were broken. He looked like a flattened persimmon."
"Made it look like an accident," Tyrion nodded. "Good. Saves me the trouble of arranging it another day. How did you explain it to Edwyn?"
"Maester Vyman slipped sweet-sleep flowers into his wine. Aside from fooling around with camp whores, he was rarely sober," Edmure said. "He truly believed he was lord of the castle."
"But the letter we sent to The Twins still hasn't been answered," Tyrion frowned. "News of Black Walder's death has probably reached the old weasel already. He's no fool."
"He must have sensed something by now," Greatjon agreed.
"What about Perwyn?"
"He's outside the walls and refuses to come in," Edmure said. "He told me three commanders must not enter the city at the same time."
"He's your brother-in-law," Tyrion said. "If you want to keep him alive, you'll have to work harder."
"I'll find a way to convince him." Edmure stood. "I think I have an idea."
"Lord," Sansa said softly, "I have something to tell you. Jeyne's crown—I returned it to her. It belongs to her."
"Don't call me Lord," Tyrion said. "You're kind. Sometimes a small kindness bears rich fruit."
"Speaking of fruit," Blackfish said, "when are the two of you getting married?"
Sansa's cheeks flushed.
"What's this, Blackfish? Growing impatient already?" Tyrion scoffed. "I half expect you'd find a few fat women to crush me on the wedding bed."
"What better choice do I have?" Blackfish answered. "Edmure keeps his title as Great Lord of Riverrun, punishes House Frey's betrayal, maybe even regains lands in the North. I see no better candidate than you."
"My tastes are a bit more refined," Tyrion said. "If I'm to marry, Riverrun isn't where I'd do it. Either Casterly Rock or Winterfell."
"Those places are a world apart."
"Then The Twins," Tyrion said. "I'll wed in Walder Frey's own den, where the Red Wedding was held."
"I have no right to meddle," Blackfish said. "But I advise you to do it sooner rather than later."
"I'll follow whatever Lord… Tyrion commands," Sansa replied.
"Sansa, would you mind stepping out for a moment? We'd like to speak privately," Blackfish said. She rose and left the room.
Brynden Tully pulled out a letter. "Arrived about half a moon ago, from Runestone." He handed it to Tyrion.
Tyrion took it and looked it over. It was much like the one he'd seen in King's Landing—Bronze Yohn Royce's declaration to the Vale's guardians—but this time he implored Brynden and Edmure, as members of House Tully, to lend their support.
"Littlefinger is indeed a troublesome man." Tyrion set the letter aside. "But I don't think the matter is that urgent."
"You haven't seen the boy?" Brynden Tully asked. "Robert Arryn."
"Of course I have."
"Then you should know that under Littlefinger's care, that child won't live long!" Blackfish said, tense with frustration. "He's Lysa's son. I was a Knight of the Bloody Gate—I watched that boy grow up."
"May the gods grant him mercy," Tyrion sighed. "If you ask me, he was never fated to reach adulthood. And Aunt Lysa… forgive me, but she's gone mad."
"She is a Tully, with the same blood as me, Edmure, and Sansa!"
"She stood idle while the Riverlands bled," Tyrion reminded him. "Family, duty, honor. She turned her back on her own house."
"And you won't help her?" Blackfish pressed.
"I will, of course. I can't allow Littlefinger's power to keep snowballing," Tyrion said with a thin smile. "But there's no need to rush. First I must settle matters with Walder Frey. Let the gods watch over young Robert."
Blackfish let out a weary sigh. Tyrion was right, and he had no grounds—nor any right—to demand Tyrion abandon the situation at The Twins.
"What about Bracken and Blackwood?"
"Write to them," Tyrion said. "Tell them the Lannisters and Tullys are now bound like close kin. Order Janos Bracken to stand down and Lord Tytos Blackwood to bend the knee."
"Janos will demand compensation," Brynden said. "Your father destroyed his seat, and the Mountain dealt him heavy losses. He'll surely seize the chance to bleed the Blackwoods dry."
"Let them work it out themselves. A few villages, a ridge, a mill—whatever they decide." Tyrion paused. "But no more than one mill."
Mills were a major source of income, with lords taking a tenth of their revenue.
"And if they still refuse to settle?"
"They must cease fighting the moment they receive the letter. Tell them I've never been fond of fighting, only of ending fights," Tyrion said. "If not, once I've dealt with Walder Frey, I'll lead a force to settle it myself. No—both of us will."
"The Lannisters are used to throwing their weight around in the Westerlands, and now they want to charge through the Riverlands as well." Blackfish shrugged. "Still, I think our names together will be enough."
"One more thing," Tyrion added. "How many children do Janos Bracken and Tytos Blackwood have?"
"Bracken had a bastard son—dead now—named Harry. And five daughters," Blackfish said. "That boy never looked like him. Janos is an ugly brute. As for Blackwood, he has five sons left and one daughter. Lucas died at The Twins."
"I want one of Blackwood's sons as my squire, and one of Bracken's daughters as Sansa's handmaiden," Tyrion said. "Add that to the letter."
"You want hostages?"
"In my view, the loyalty of those two enemies is doubtful," Tyrion replied. "At this rate, I'll have more squires than I know what to do with. Whenever I piss, they fight over who gets to hold my cock."
"One last matter," Blackfish said. "What about Lady Stoneheart? I won't call her Cat, but I can't leave her there…"
"…She deserves a merciful release," Tyrion said. "With Thoros watching her, nothing will go wrong. When all this is over, I'll see to it."
...
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