The great hall of Riverrun felt unusually hollow.
The rushing sound of the surrounding rivers echoed faintly through the stone corridors, as if the castle itself were whispering of uncertainty. News of Riverrun's relief had not yet spread throughout the Riverlands, and so the great lords had not returned. For the moment, only two of the principal houses of the Trident remained in attendance: House Blackwood of Raventree and House Mallister of Seagard.
The long war had drained them all.
Gendry stood near the central table, studying the maps laid across it. Oil lamps flickered, casting restless shadows over the carved river lines and castle markers.
Duke Tytos cleared his throat.
"Taking the Two Cities… the plan is bold. Perhaps too bold."
Gendry did not look up immediately. "Holding still and observing the situation—that is Walder Frey's style. He waits, measures, calculates, and only commits when victory is certain. If we follow the same method, we'll remain stuck here forever."
Ser Barristan Selmy nodded gravely. "Then we must do the opposite. Strike decisively. Capture them before they have time to react."
The Two Cities—known to many as the Twins—stood as one of the strongest fortifications in the Riverlands, alongside Riverrun and Harrenhal. Harrenhal, though vast, suffered from neglect and thin garrisons. But the Two Cities were different. House Frey had gathered nearly four thousand men there—one thousand in each castle and another two thousand camped nearby.
For generations, the Freys had profited from tolls on the Green Fork, growing rich from merchants and armies forced to cross their bridge. Their power, though young compared to the ancient houses, was formidable.
Gendry finally raised his eyes.
"I once considered negotiating with Walder Frey," he said. "But he is not a man to trust. Unless he smells guaranteed victory, he will never move. During the Battle of the Trident, he arrived late. When Riverrun called for aid, he delayed again. This is no coincidence."
Ser Edmure's expression darkened.
"Frey is not like the other Riverlords," Gendry continued. "He has ties to House Lannister through marriage. That alone makes him dangerous."
Old Walder Frey was notorious throughout the Seven Kingdoms—vain, suspicious, ambitious, and vindictive. His many wives and countless descendants made him powerful, but also unpredictable. A man like that could change allegiance in a heartbeat if it benefited him.
Jason Mallister stepped forward. "Then we attack. A night raid."
Bronze Yohn Royce agreed. "The Two Cities have never fallen by storm. But no fortress is invincible."
"If we can open the gates," Mallister added, "and attack by land and river simultaneously, we stand a real chance."
Count Tytos clenched his jaw. "The Lannisters burned my lands. Let me reclaim some interest from their allies."
Gendry nodded. "Send in the mercenary leader."
Moments later, a flamboyantly dressed man entered the hall.
His beard and hair were dyed a vivid blue—curled and perfumed. He wore a tight vest embroidered with medals and soft deerskin gloves. The scent of pear brandy followed him like a banner.
He knelt smoothly.
"It is an honor to meet you, Liberator—Conqueror of the Known World. I am Reso of Tyrosh. Some call me Bluebeard."
Gendry studied him. "You know of me?"
Bluebeard smiled. "Any man who sails the Narrow Sea or fights in the Disputed Lands has heard your name. The red comet lights your path. Many mercenaries have joined the Two Cities Alliance. Others—like myself—prefer freedom. Discipline chafes. Gold earned on the edge of a blade is sweeter."
"Then we understand each other," Gendry replied. "Why betray the Lannisters?"
Bluebeard spread his hands. "Betrayal? My lord, mercenaries love gold—but we love our lives more. The Lannisters are retreating. Their camps burn. Why follow a losing cause to the grave?"
He paused.
"I command only three hundred men. Riverrun can afford our loyalty."
His honesty drew faint smiles around the room.
"How many can you spare?" Gendry asked.
"Three hundred total."
Anguy brought forward a pouch of gold at Gendry's signal.
"This is a gift," Gendry said. "For our first meeting."
Bluebeard eyed the gold carefully. "And what danger follows this generosity?"
"I need a small force for a hazardous mission northward," Gendry replied calmly. "Volunteers only. And silence regarding my presence here."
"Who commands the mission?" Bluebeard asked.
"I do."
The Tyroshi nodded immediately. "Then we accept. Your victories are legend. Serving you will enhance our reputation."
Ser Edmure shifted uncomfortably but said nothing.
"Divide the gold," Gendry said. "Feed your men well."
Bluebeard accepted. "My remaining soldiers will assist in Riverrun's defense—for proper compensation. They are not fodder."
"They will be respected," Count Tytos assured him.
Once the mercenary departed, final preparations resumed.
"Our objective," Gendry said, pointing to the map, "is the West Castle and the central bridge tower. If we seize Walder himself, the Freys collapse."
Ser Marq would soon arrive to serve as bait.
"Riverrun remains under your protection," Gendry told Edmure and Tytos. "The Lannisters cannot reinforce quickly."
One by one, the assembled lords pledged their support.
Seagard.
Raventree.
Runestone.
Redfort.
Swords were laid at Gendry's feet in solemn oath.
The Two Cities stood grim and imposing over the Green Fork. Twin fortresses faced one another across the river, connected by a massive stone bridge wide enough for two wagons to pass side by side.
High walls. Deep moats. Iron portcullises. Ballistae mounted along the battlements.
Archers lined every merlon. Drawbridges were raised. Gates were barred.
House Frey's silver-grey banner—emblazoned with twin blue towers—fluttered proudly.
For all their wealth, however, the Freys were scorned by older houses. Their rise had been rapid, built on tolls and opportunism rather than ancient blood.
Two Frey soldiers leaned against the wall.
"Ordered to defend against Stark," one muttered. "And we've seen no wolves."
"Maybe tonight," the other replied.
As afternoon faded, riders appeared in the distance.
Not Stark banners.
House Piper.
Their pink maiden banner was torn and stained. The knights beneath it looked weary and dust-covered. Among them rode a group of ragged mercenaries.
Ser Marq Piper wore light leather armor instead of his usual plate.
"Open the gates!" he shouted hoarsely. "Marquess Walder! Riverrun calls for aid!"
He cursed. He shouted until his throat burned.
For a long time, nothing happened.
At last, a side gate creaked open. A small plank bridge extended across the moat. Ten mounted Frey knights emerged, led by four of Walder's sons.
They looked, as many whispered, like weasels—narrow-faced and sharp-eyed.
The eldest, Ser Stevron Frey, addressed Marq politely.
"My father inquires: who serves as envoy?"
"I do!" Marq snapped. "I bear Lord Hoster's will!"
"You may dine within and state your case," Stevron replied calmly.
"My men enter with me—or your father comes out here!" Marq insisted.
After deliberation, the Freys relented.
Marq and his men were admitted.
Inside the West Castle's hall, Ser Marq was surrounded by what felt like an army of Freys.
Twenty-one living sons.
Thirty-six grandsons.
Nineteen great-grandsons.
Walder Frey sat upon a carved black oak chair shaped like twin towers linked by a bridge.
At ninety years old, he resembled a shriveled pink weasel. Bald scalp spotted with age. Limbs twisted by gout. His newest wife—a pale girl of sixteen—hovered nearby.
"Spare me flattery," Walder croaked. "Why are you here? Is Edmure too proud to come?"
"Riverrun is in peril," Marq said tightly.
Walder sneered. "A plea? I recall being scolded for arriving late once."
Marq handed him Hoster Tully's handwritten letter.
Walder laughed dryly. "Still begging? Where are his daughters now? Why don't they save him?"
He gestured irritably.
"Danwell. Whalen. Help me up."
Supported to his high seat, Walder leaned forward.
"I will gather my troops," he muttered. "In time."
"In time?" Marq demanded.
"I am a vassal, yes. But I am no fool. I will not rush into slaughter."
His eyes gleamed.
"Let us speak privately."
Walder dismissed the hall. Marq ordered his men to withdraw as well.
The trap had been baited.
Outside the walls, unseen in the growing dusk, Gendry's forces waited.
The night raid would begin soon.
And if all went according to plan, the Freys would not see dawn as masters of the bridge.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)