The reinforcements from Riverrun pursued the Ironborn along the river for nearly a week but found no trace.
Each time, the Ironborn left only an empty camp, mocking their slowness.
Left with no choice, they could only return to Daintings City to monitor the fork of the Trident River.
Arthur stood on the walls of Daintings City, gazing at the camp of over four thousand men, feeling an invisible pressure.
A Knight, identified by his personal sigil, spoke from behind Arthur:
"Lord Arthur, Lord Norbert Vance of Arryn City has sent me to invite you to his tent for a discussion."
Arthur turned around, staring at the silent Knight. Why would he seek him? Seeing the Knight's gaze, as if to say, 'It is you,' and confirming that he was indeed the one sought, he could only nod.
He, Brin, Rosso, and Lucien mounted their warhorses and galloped out of the castle, crossing the wooden bridge over the stream leading to the camp, and headed towards the unfamiliar encampment.
In the camp, the Vance Family's white-bottomed green dragon and black-bottomed white tower banners of Arryn City fluttered in the wind. The tents were neatly arranged, as if drawn with a ruler.
Only a small number of soldiers wore uniform chainmail, holding spears, and patrolled inside and outside the camp with solemn expressions, meticulously. More of them were still indistinguishable from farmers.
Everything was an attempt to highlight the majesty and order of an old noble family of the Riverlands.
The soldiers in the camp rushed out, curiously looking at him, all wanting to meet this young man whose reputation was soaring, even representing commoners in a Trial by combat. For a time, the crowd was dense, but finally, under Brin's angry shouts, they all stepped aside, clearing a path.
The commander's tent was the largest in the camp, with several heavily armored Knights standing at the entrance. Their breastplates were engraved with the Vance Family's sigil and their personal emblems.
Arthur announced his name, and one of the Knights lifted the tent flap, speaking inside: "My Lord, Lord Arthur has arrived."
"Let him in," a hoarse, old voice, feigning full vigor, came from inside the tent.
Arthur walked in. The tent was simply furnished: a camp bed, a tin box, and a wooden table with a map and a goblet. An old man stood with his back to the entrance, examining a map of the Riverlands hanging on the wall.
He turned around, revealing sparse gray hair and a face full of wrinkles, but his back was ramrod straight. What was striking were his eyes—a pair of hazy gray eyes, almost devoid of pupils, as if covered by a thin mist.
When the old man looked at him, his head would tilt slightly to one side, as if needing his ears to aid his vision. Arthur wondered if his eyes could see at all.
Arthur had some impression of the Vance Family. It was said to be an old family of the Riverlands, with more extensive territories and a larger army than the ruling House Tully. They had contended for the River King and possessed royal blood.
Lord Norbert spoke, his voice louder than Arthur had expected: "You are Arthur?"
"Yes, My Lord," Arthur bowed slightly to the old man out of courtesy.
Lord Norbert pointed to the chair opposite the table, then slowly sat down himself: "Sit."
"I have heard many stories about you."
"Although outside Daintings City, you fought your first losing battle."
"But you are brave and loyal, young man."
Arthur pulled out the chair and slowly sat down: "I merely fulfilled a vassal's duty, My Lord."
Lord Norbert's cloudy eyes seemed to flash with a hint of light: "Duty?"
"Many times, being able to clearly distinguish one's duties and recognize one's identity is a remarkable wisdom."
"Lady Roslyn's appreciation and promotion of you is the good fortune she now deserves."
Arthur did not reply, simply sitting quietly. His praise sounded more like scrutiny.
Lord Norbert seemed not to mind. He poured himself a glass of wine and pushed a full goblet towards Arthur.
The old man slowly began: "Before I led the army, Ser Brynden wrote me a letter."
"He rarely praises people, especially a young man."
"In the letter, he said that a young man with brains had emerged in the Riverlands, and that in Daintings City, I could consider listening to your opinions."
Norbert's lips curved into a subtle arc: "Now, I am indeed in trouble."
He raised his goblet but did not drink, his cloudy eyes fixed on Arthur.
"Tell me, child, were there really three thousand of those Ironborn?"
The question had arrived. Arthur felt the air in the tent grow heavy. This might be a trap.
He paused for a moment, organizing his words, finally choosing the description closest to the truth: "My Lord, the Ironborn's force is very mixed."
"They coerced a large number of farmers and refugees from the Riverlands to swell their numbers, making them appear formidable."
"The true Ironborn capable of fighting, I estimate, would not exceed twelve hundred."
Arthur intentionally stated a number slightly higher than his actual estimate; based on his observations from previous battles, the opponent's numbers should have been around six or seven hundred.
Lord Norbert listened quietly, his expression unchanged. He seemed satisfied with the answer, nodding: "Twelve hundred Ironborn are enough to keep the entire Riverlands in unrest."
The old man finally raised his goblet, took a sip of wine, and then placed the cup heavily on the table.
"Lord Arthur, you and your soldiers are excellent, warriors of the Riverlands."
His tone suddenly became serious and formal,
"Now, in the name of the House Tully of Riverrun, I summon you and your troops to immediately join my army and sweep away these scum from the sea."
The tent fell into a deathly silence. Arthur's mind suddenly cleared. This was his true objective. After a lot of talk, it boiled down to a shortage of front-line fighters. This realization clearly emerged in his mind. Based on his observations, the army before him had about a thousand combat-ready soldiers. His own large army had been noticed, and they wanted him to take the front line.
Arthur's mind raced. Legally, he had every reason to refuse: a vassal's vassal is not my vassal. He was only beholden to the Dading Family, not the House Tully or any lord commander they sent, and had no obligations to the House Tully.
But he could not refuse with that excuse; otherwise, he could almost clearly foresee what would happen next.
This old man would immediately rise, with a look of regret, and personally visit Lady Roslyn in Daintings City. He would repeat his words to her, using the name of the House Tully, the righteousness of the Riverlands, and the King's name to persuade her.
And Lady Roslyn would agree without hesitation. Then, she would personally issue orders to him, and by then, he would completely lose any room for maneuver. Would he become a pawn pushed onto the chessboard, or would he voluntarily step onto it?
Being dragged into the arena for a desperate fight is different from walking in with one's head held high.
Norbert did not rush him, merely picking up his goblet and slowly rubbing the rim with his fingers. His half-blind eyes watched Arthur calmly.
Silence descended upon the tent. Just as Arthur was about to speak, preparing to subtly stall for time, the tent flap was violently thrown open.
A Knight stumbled in, his escutcheon belonging to the Blackwood Family.
He was panting, his face covered in sweat, tightly clutching a letter: "Lord Norbert!"
The Knight saw Arthur sitting in the tent and was visibly stunned, the rest of his words caught in his throat.
Norbert did not even look up at him, merely extending his hand, a slow but undeniable gesture. The Knight dared not disobey, quickly stepping forward and respectfully handing a letter to the old man.
The old man unfolded the letter and, with just a glance, his usually impassive old face instantly froze. The muscles in the old man's cheeks twitched. His hand, holding the letter, had knuckles that turned white from excessive force, and there was even a barely perceptible tremor.
The air in the tent seemed to turn to ice, but it was only for a moment. The next second, all of Norbert's expressions were reined in.
He slowly, carefully, refolded the letter and placed it on the table.
Then, he slowly looked up again, at Arthur: "Child, remember, loyalty will always be rewarded."
"You may go back for now. Consider my proposal carefully, and give me your answer tomorrow morning."
He paused, sighing deeply, his voice tinged with weariness.
"Time is running out, for all of us, it is running out."
Arthur bowed to Lord Norbert, realizing it must be news from Seaguard, then turned and quickly left the tent.
As he stepped out of the Riverrun reinforcements' camp, he saw a Dading Family Knight on horseback galloping from the direction of Daintings Castle.
The Knight saw Arthur, and his face immediately showed an expression of immense relief.
He abruptly reined in his warhorse, which let out a long neigh, its sound sharp with urgency: "Lord Arthur!"
"The Lady has urgent military intelligence! Please return to the city immediately!"
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