"…And that is the grim reality of a siege, Edmure. You can have the thickest walls and the deepest wells, but it is the 'boring' things that kill you—spoiled grain, a single careless torch, or a spy in the kitchens. There is no magical medicine for a siege; there is only the constant, tedious checking of every crate and bolt."
Maester Vyman's lessons were shifting. No longer was he teaching the theory of history; he was teaching the grit of statecraft.
"Thank you, Maester," Edmure said, leaning back. "I have another request. My sister, Catelyn... she has been a hawk over my shoulder since the fever broke. I know she spoke to Ser Grell to soften my training. I want to find a way to thank her."
Vyman looked at him over his spectacles, a dry smile touching his lips. "A noble thought. But if you're asking an old man for coin, you'll be disappointed. Put your mind to it, lad. 'Family, Duty, Honor.' A gift should reflect the first, fulfill the second, and carry the third."
In the yard, Ser Desmond Grell was in a significantly better mood, the shadow of Catelyn's disapproval seemingly lifted for the day.
"Archery today, young master? How far shall we set the mark?"
"Not yet, Ser. I have a debt to pay first."
Edmure sought out the page from the day before—Marq Piper—and once again took up the boy's heavy pack. He began his laps, his mind focused. The Level 10 perk for Running was "Infinite Stamina," a prize so valuable it justified any amount of physical agony. If he could reach it, his ability to grind other skills would become exponential. He didn't care about the muscle strain; to him, the pain was just "XP" for his Healing skill.
By the time he finished, his Running had ticked to Level 2. Dripping with sweat, he finally picked up the practice bow.
"Steady your breath," Grell instructed. "Your arms will sway; don't fight it. Aim for the swirl. As you grow stronger, the sway will settle. For now, just feel the distance. Wind, elevation, humidity—they're all headaches for later. Today, just try to hit the straw."
Edmure didn't just try. Using his Eidetic Memory, he recorded every failure. Nock, draw, loose. Nock, draw, loose. Thirty arrows flew. Not a single one touched the target. Grell's face fell; it seemed the heir of Riverrun was as much a disaster with the bow as he was with the shield.
"Seven bless us," Grell sighed. "I'll be teaching you until my hair turns white."
"Adjust my posture, Ser. I've felt the draw weight; now I want the mark."
Edmure began again. He fired in a rapid, non-sensical succession that looked like madness to the onlookers. But with every shot, he was adjusting. An inch left. Two inches higher. The arrows began to cluster. Then, a thud. The target's outer ring. He didn't stop until his muscles were screaming and his stamina was a dry well. With one final, agonizing draw, he loosed.
Thwack. Bullseye.
The guards cheered. Edmure, trembling from the over-exertion, handed the bow to a stunned Grell. "I'll need that ointment now, Ser. And a servant to help me to my solar."
While Grell went to whisper his confusion to the Maester, Edmure was staring at his new data.
[Archery: 3/10 | Perk: +30% better eyesight, body reflexes.]
Level 10: Unending Quiver | Level 100: Enchanted Shot | Level 1000: Apotheosis
[Healing: 4/10]
"The gamble worked. Even if I had to overdrew my body, the effect of proficiency is worth the hassle. Reflex from archery can feed into shield training. Plus, elven eyesight and high dexterous hands help in other places. I just know where." Edmure seemingly pleased with himself, asked for papers and brush for paintings from servants. His two sisters are bound to keep reserve of these stationary.
When Catelyn and Maester Vyman burst into his room later, they found him in a state that looked like a fresh fever dream. He was staring intensely at an apple, painting it, rotating it, and painting it again with a frantic, focused grin.
"Edmure!" Catelyn cried, her voice hovering between terror and fury. "What is this madness? I thought you were recovered!"
Vyman inspected the sketches. "Brilliant colors... faithful recreation of light. But Edmure, if your father saw you playing with brushes like a girl from the Reach, he'd smash that apple into your teeth. You are scaring your sister."
Edmure looked up, his eyes clear. "I'm sorry, Cat. I wasn't being senseless. I was practicing a way to freeze a moment in time. Yesterday, you told me Father loves the rivers—I sensed you carry that same love. I wanted to give you both something the reality doesn't have: a view of Riverrun that never fades."
He explained his plan: a landscape of the Tumblestone at sunset, seen from the solar window, with Hoster and Catelyn in the foreground. He wasn't just being sentimental; he was exploiting the Painting skill to sharpen his observational "Learning" even further.
[Painting: Level 13 | Perk: Record all details]
"I need to see the view from Father's window, Cat. Help me?"