Scholar Bennett was clearly stunned. His hands trembled as he accepted the lamb leg and wine flask, the silver necklace around his neck clinking softly with each motion. His plump face was a portrait of confusion—fear, excitement, and awe all mingled in equal measure. He didn't know where to start or how to act.
Magic carried the same reverence for a scholar as the Iron Throne did for commoners. It was an object of ambition, power, and absolute respect. Every true scholar, upon completing their trials, had to swear an oath and prove themselves worthy. Before that, they endured a vigil in a dark cellar, with nothing but a sharp obsidian candle. Unless they could light it, the novice would spend the entire night in darkness, a silent, grueling warning of the discipline required to master knowledge.
Each scholar faced a different trial. Bennett had once touched the obsidian candle only to have his hand cut and covered in blood, failing to ignite it. Now, witnessing magic in action before his very eyes—grand, boisterous, and dazzlingly beautiful—he felt both captivated and terrified. The raw power on display made him instinctively shrink back.
Seeing the scholar frozen in hesitation, Eddard gestured for him to try the food and wine. Bennett hesitated, but the pair of cold, commanding eyes fixed on him left no choice. He took a deep breath, inhaling the iron-tinged air, and forced himself to sample a bite of the lamb leg and a sip of the wine. Despite his lack of appetite, he obeyed.
Satisfied, Eddard retrieved the food and wine, placing them aside, and spoke in a casual yet probing tone. "Scholar Bennett, I've heard that you serve the castle's lord, rather than a specific family—is that correct?"
He pushed aside the sprawled form of Marquis Walder, who lay helplessly on the table, and sat down to eat without ceremony.
Bennett lowered his head, his voice soft but resolute. "Respected Lord Eddard Karstark, that is correct. According to the vows we have sworn, we are bound to serve the castle and its order, not any particular house."
Eddard chuckled softly, musing to himself, "Good… that explains much." He then muttered indistinctly, "I assume Roose Bolton and Tywin Lannister must have written to Marquis Walder… Do you know where their letters are? If they were destroyed, do you at least know their contents?"
Old Frey, lying helpless nearby, tried to intervene with a strained "heh… heh…" but his voice lacked any power.
Bennett glanced at the Marquis, then carefully walked over to Eddard, retrieved two brief letters from a drawer, and placed them on the table.
Eddard's eyes widened slightly. In his mind, such crucial letters should have been secured in a hidden compartment or a safe with multiple locks, yet here they were, casually kept in a simple drawer. Clearly, Walder Frey's sense of security was either immense or dangerously naïve.
Noticing Eddard's surprise, Bennett explained, "Respected Lord Eddard, Marquis Walder usually handles most matters here in the Banquet Hall. When I delivered the letters, I personally saw him place them in the drawer."
Eddard raised an eyebrow. "A good habit," he thought, "one that saves me quite a bit of trouble."
He picked up the first letter—it bore the seal of House Lannister, exquisitely crafted and difficult to forge. Its content, however, was simple and direct: Tywin Lannister informed Walder Frey that the Iron Throne now had the support of Houses Tyrell and Martell. The Westerlands were raising new troops, capable of amassing a hundred thousand soldiers with little delay.
Robb Stark and Stannis Baratheon, Tywin wrote, were insignificant obstacles—mere grasshoppers in autumn. The Iron Islands' fleet was already en route, and Roose Bolton had pledged secret allegiance to the Iron Throne. With allies like the Dustin and Ryswell families, Bolton was preparing to seize control of the North.
Tywin offered incentives to Walder Frey: Jaime Lannister would marry a Frey woman, inherit Casterly Rock, and become Warden of the West, forgiving all previous transgressions in the name of loyalty to the King.
Eddard clicked his tongue in disdain. "Great terms… but it reeks of a trap. The old lion is just fooling Frey, nothing more."
He then examined the second letter from Roose Bolton, which was even simpler. It listed forces loyal to Robb Stark—only five thousand infantry remained, supplemented by cavalry returning from the Westerlands, bringing the total to no more than nine thousand men. In other words, Stark's army was weak and vulnerable. Bolton requested that Walder Frey strike immediately, wipe out Stark's forces, and pave the way for Bolton and Tarly to dominate the North with a combined force of ten thousand soldiers arriving soon.
Eddard smirked. "Enhanced Red Wedding, indeed."
He tapped the letters against his chest, then addressed Scholar Bennett. "Prepare a letter in my name, Eddard Karstark. Send it to Riverrun immediately. Inform King Robb that House Frey and the Boltons have been bribed by the Lannisters and are plotting rebellion. Warn him that Barrowton and Riverrun may also be at risk. I have secured Twin River City, but my forces are too limited to resist ten thousand soldiers arriving soon. Reinforcements must come, and quickly."
Bennett nodded gravely. "I'll attend to it immediately."
Eddard's eyes grew colder. "Send a few extra birds. It's chaotic outside—someone might shoot one down. Ensure the message reaches its destination."
Bennett's body trembled. He understood this was no idle warning: arrows and spies could disrupt his work. He would not dare play any tricks.
Satisfied, Eddard waved him off and gestured to Dita. Kalander, the grizzled free knight from the South, to assist with other tasks.
Eddard knew his position was critical. By arriving first at Twin River City, he had disrupted Walder Frey's plans and prevented the immediate betrayal of Robb Stark. Yet, the threat of the approaching ten-thousand-strong army remained. Twin River City, with its high walls and deep moats, was defensible, but Eddard's forces numbered only a few hundred, some already lost in the battle. Holding the city against such odds would require strategy, cunning, and reinforcements.
Old Frey, regaining a fraction of his strength, attempted one final gambit. "Eddard Karstark, even if you hold Twin River City, victory is impossible. Robb is stubborn, but a capable fighter. Catelyn Tully is foolish and selfish. The young wolves are inconsequential. Join us—stand with us."
Eddard laughed, the sound echoing off the empty hall. He stopped suddenly and said firmly, "I do not stand with you. Why would I abandon the honorable Stark to ally with the cunning, cruel Old Flayer? What your family does in Dreadfort is monstrous. Joffrey on the Iron Throne is insane, Queen Cersei is self-absorbed, and Tywin Lannister cares only for his own kin. Choose him, and I could be sold out at any moment."
He tapped Walder Frey's head gently with the bones of the lamb leg. "You calculate every step of your life, yet fail to see the essence. You sought Lannister favor, abandoned Stark in their time of need, and believed you would be respected. Do you not see? No one will ever trust you again. Winter is coming, Marquis Walder."
Old Frey hissed venomously, "Your end won't be any better! Bolton and Tarly will breach the gates and kill you all!"
Eddard shrugged, tore a piece of silk from Walder's robe, stuffed it into his mouth, and said with a smile, "That's my business, not yours. You'll remain in the dungeon and pray for Robb's arrival. At your age, you won't last long otherwise."
He gave orders to Matthew, one of his lieutenants: arrange a private room for Walder Frey. Comfort, but limited interaction.
Matthew escorted the struggling Marquis, and when Walder resisted, he removed the nail from his thumb with a quick flick of his dagger, causing him to faint.
Freya returned from the East Bank. She spat at Old Frey before approaching Eddard. "Young Master, everything on the East Bank went smoothly. Lando and Kalas secured several Frey officers, and the rest surrendered. No casualties."
Eddard nodded in satisfaction. Fewer casualties among his men meant fewer losses overall.
Freya hesitated, then added, "Young Master, there's one more thing the brothers asked me to inquire about."
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