The Twins.
Tomato in the egg soup.
Tyrion stared at his breakfast, frowning.
"Tyrion," Sansa sat beside him, "this is still better than that wild grass-root broth we used to choke down."
"True enough." Tyrion stretched, heavy with exhaustion. Once breakfast ended, it would be time for the council—the first since the wedding. His head already throbbed.
Time to step down as Hand and go back to Casterly Rock, back to a warm bed, a wife, and children. As for saving the world? Someone else would surely rise to the task.
He was still brooding when the lords began filing into the hall. The same people from the wedding gathered, but the mood was nothing like the celebration. The Riverlands lords sat together; the others stayed on the opposite side. Tyrion looked at them, and they looked back. The air was as still as water, and just as cold.
"Lord." Brynden Tully rose first, offering a sealed letter. "This came from Runestone."
"Ah, Bronze Royce." Tyrion scratched his head. "Must be more trouble about Littlefinger." He opened the letter; just as he expected, Bronze Yohn Royce denounced Petyr Baelish for usurping the title of Warden of the Vale and reaffirmed the Lords Declarant's claim over Vale authority. But Tyrion quickly noticed that several familiar signatures were missing.
"Lord Tyrion, Lady Sansa," Brynden Tully bowed, "the Vale needs our help."
"She didn't lift a finger when the Riverlands were burning," said Clement Piper of Pinkmaiden, the hot-tempered Lord of Pinkmaiden, rising to speak. "And this is the Vale's own business. Their family squabbles aren't ours."
The Riverlands lords nodded, some muttering about dwindling grain, pumpkins needing harvesting, or castle walls needing repair.
"Yohn Royce asked many times to send forces to help the Riverlands," Blackfish said. "He never broke the pact."
"Then it was Lysa who refused," Janos Bracken snapped. "The Mountain burned Stone Hedge and raped one of my daughters. Since then, my wife won't take a single step outside the Sept. And whose fault is that? Your niece's?"
"Watch your tongue!" Lord Tytos Blackwood of Raventree Hall shot to his feet.
Bracken had no fear of the Tullys. Even before the Tullys lost the title of Wardens of the Riverlands, House Bracken had been one of the strongest families—and House Blackwood, naturally, their eternal foes. But having knelt early to the Lannisters and escaped punishment, Bracken's lands had expanded by a full quarter, and Janos now spoke with newfound confidence.
Edmure Tully blushed scarlet. He wanted to stand but didn't dare; he had never faced a scene like this.
"Lord, what do you think?" Tyrion asked Jason Mallister, Lord of Seagard.
"My lord, whatever you decide, Seagard cannot spare another man," Jason said, rising with a bow. "Our remaining soldiers can barely hold against the ironmen. We cannot march."
Wonderful. A hall full of men undercutting one another, each unwilling to do anything. Tyrion felt his irritation sharpen.
"My lord," Jon Umber rose, "I believe you should press Lady Sansa's claim to Winterfell at once—drive out Bolton and that bastard of his, just as we wiped out the Freys."
Uncle Emmon's brow tightened.
"And how do we get there? Through Moat Cailin?" Daven Lannister asked without rising. "No one has ever taken Moat Cailin from the south..."
"That's because I was in the North," Greatjon growled. "Lord, if you give the order, I'll lead the first assault myself, with my death squad!"
"Oh, don't be ridiculous, my lord..." Daven shook his head.
"You Lannister brat! Think you're some soft-bellied coward? That's Lady Sansa's home!" Greatjon shouted, spittle flying.
"Don't forget there's also a Lannister lad sitting up there," Daven answered calmly. He knew Greatjon's temper well. "I want to go north more than anyone—to White Harbor, to Lord Manderly..."
"Enough." Tyrion cut him off. "Attacking Moat Cailin from the south is a terrible plan."
Greatjon collapsed back into his seat like a leaking waterskin.
"Lord Jason," Tyrion said again. Jason Mallister straightened. "No matter what comes next, Seagard does not need to join. Stay within your walls, brace for winter, and guard against the Ironborn."
"Thank you, my lord."
"And I need you to send out small boats to search for Greywater Watch," Tyrion continued. "Robb Stark did the same, didn't he?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Send more ships. Tell them the Young Wolf is dead, and that Lady Sansa and her husband, Tyrion Lannister, need their aid," Tyrion said. "I'll give you a letter in my own hand."
"As you command."
"As for the rest of you, return to your lands," Tyrion said. "If we can reach Howland Reed at Greywater Watch, we might pass through Moat Cailin. If not, the only route into the North is from Gulltown to White Harbor."
He looked to Blackfish and nodded.
...
"The next council will convene at Darry, closer to the Bloody Gate than The Twins. You may depart."
The Riverlands lords rose. They might have been displeased, but none showed it.
"A bunch of petty men," Edmure Tully muttered once they were gone.
"Defeat weakens a house's prestige," Daven said bluntly. "The Tullys never dominated the Riverlands before, and they certainly don't now."
"Daven, you'll stay at The Twins," Tyrion said suddenly. "I'm going to the Vale. The Riverlands will be yours."
"What?" Daven blinked in confusion. "I thought you needed me in White Harbor..."
"No. You hold the Riverlands," Tyrion said. "Great Lord Edmure and Perwyn will remain in Riverrun. You stay here at The Twins and assist Uncle Emmon and my aunt. With your combined forces, the Riverlands will be secure."
"And you?" Aunt Genna asked. "How many men are you taking to the Bloody Gate?"
"Bracken and Blackwood—five hundred men from each is enough," Tyrion said. "What good would a larger host do? The Vale has twenty to thirty thousand soldiers. The Riverlands and the North together don't even have that many now. I'm not marching up there just to serve as target practice."
"Then... I stay?" Daven asked.
"Exactly. Keep your eyes on Moat Cailin."
...
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