Myr
Craghas, the leader of the Myrish merchants with whom Edmure had dealt, was checking his ledgers. The servants at the door informed him that the lady of the house had returned. Craghas came from a relatively newer master family, with a mere five hundred years of history. His wife and the head of the house, Taena, possessed a much more illustrious pedigree. In almost every generation, her family produced a Magister to sit upon the ruling council of the city.
"Don't look so tired, my dear; you have only just returned from the West." Taena came up behind Craghas and hugged him. "I am always here for you; do not work too hard. The council just discussed countermeasures against this Westerosi charade in the Narrow Sea. I think you should take it easy for a while."
"Why? Is that not just a momentary fever among those barbarians?" Craghas vacated his seat and placed her in it instead. "I thought they would get bored and leave. Without dragons, I do not think they have the gall to offend Volantis too much. The First Daughter would love to mess with the descendants of Aegon."
"The council is split on the issue. Everyone knows their actions are poking at Volantis. But since they are doing it so brazenly, there is a chance that Volantis is in on their game. That worries everyone, so we are making gestures toward Braavos and the cities of Slaver's Bay. No one wants a watchdog threatening trade in the Narrow Sea."
"Hmm, perhaps a marriage pact? The Targaryen Prince is unwed; maybe the Tigers in Old Volantis smell an opportunity to hunt." Craghas speculated, showing the intellect that had once enamored Taena. He chuckled and spoke jokingly, "Maybe the kid's words will really come true? The gods do love humor—letting a fool babble pieces of the truth."
Seeing her husband relax, Taena asked, "What kid? Is there anything special about him? Is he the stupid one who paid for all that glass?"
"Yes, that one. An extremely pompous fellow, even for a Westerosi noble. At the end, he said the grain price would go up in Westeros. It seems the western nobles are gearing up for some stupid stunt on their mainland."
"Perhaps, but do not rush in to profit from the chaos. Your moves should match the council's mandate, lest we be surrounded politically in the city." Taena's well-intentioned suggestion brought certain memories to Craghas' mind. Seeing his mood sour, Taena gently hugged him.
"It is nothing. I just remembered the past. The brat said something your father once said—that love is about personal feelings, but marriage is a social matter."
"But our union has both. Do not hold grudges against the old man; he has been dead for a long time. It is just how the world works. But Craghas, never assume that stories like ours are common or always end on a happy note. I am proud of all the effort you put in back then, and even now. I will always remember the times we worked hard and honor that memory. I promise on my house's name that I will never marry again or have another relation." Taena's assurance removed the cloud from Craghas' mind, and he began to think of how to steer their future in these uncertain times.
Riverrun
Edmure was about to leave for a patrol when Lord Grell asked for him. He had always considered Grell his teacher; otherwise, for all his stats, his fighting style would have resembled that of a beast. Edmure deferred to Lord Grell in all matters, yet the old man never crossed the lines of insubordination, always acting as the bedrock for Edmure's daily antics.
Edmure made his way to the Godswood, where he had been requested. It was his second trip there in just a day, as he had scoured the castle for traces of divine interference since the previous day. Finding none, his leading theory was that it was somehow related to Elaena. After all, she was the only one with such ties, and a social visit among deities might have triggered his perks. He decided to ask a favor of Elaena—to show him one divine correspondence in person so he could identify the signatures of such acts.
"You are here, my child. Come, sit next to an old man." Lord Grell's voice carried a distant tinge that felt oddly familiar to Edmure.
"So, it is that kind of talk? But why now? Nothing of note has happened." Edmure, not wanting to be on the back foot in a negotiation, acknowledged the hanging blade. He had seen all kinds of such talks—had even pulled plenty of tricks on others himself. Things like: 'The company is under financial pressure and is exploring new avenues of growth,' which plainly meant, 'We screwed up, and now you will take the blame and be fired.'
Usually, there is no way to break a deadlock in such a situation. Edmure's preferred tactic was simply to abscond before the bells tolled. He held the belief that no amount of quick thinking during a negotiation could save you; it only gave ammo to the person on the other end of the table. He had climbed careers to be that man on the other end, so his words carried weight.
"Because that is what the world is demanding."
"Spare me the lecture. I know what it means—either you are going to betray me or sacrifice yourself. I haven't done anything heinous yet, so the second must be the case. But why? What is your death meant to achieve? It is not like I need it. I am not bragging, but even if all seven realms fought the Tullys, I could burn them beneath our castle walls." Edmure began to grow agitated, for he knew there was no way to break the deadlock.
"Yes," the venerable Grell spoke, turning to watch the falling leaves.
"Come on, teacher. I know you believe in the Seven. How about we have this conversation in a new sept I'll commission tomorrow? Trust me, in fifty years, the scenery will better suit whatever you want to teach. How about waiting for its completion?" Edmure began to panic at the tranquility; he hoped to use delaying tactics until the old man changed his mind.
"For that, I thank you on behalf of the Faith. I hope you go less on the pomp when the time comes and think more of the downtrodden."
"So, you are not relenting?" Edmure stood up in a fury. "Then I won't listen. I will never listen; we never had this conversation. Old man, I will never learn this lesson. Trust me, I am a pig-headed man. No, never!" For the first time in this life, Edmure flustered and ran away. He teleported rapidly in succession. People in the castle thought they felt a shadow fly by. Elaena also noticed the agitation and looked outside the castle, where Edmure was running wildly. With his perks, even she had difficulty following him. She knew how self-righteous the boy was; seeing something that could shake him so deeply, she grew worried and called for her mother.
Edmure, meanwhile, was fleeing at full speed, as if he could turn back time to the morning when he had no concerns. Just a few hours ago, he was a man with a solid grasp on reality and his future. Now, he felt as if everything were spinning out of control. He screamed in agony. He stacked his perks one upon another—Verticality to jump higher, Teleport to cheese his momentum, and Running to achieve even greater speed. Soon he broke the sound barrier, and his clothes were tattered by the sheer force of the wind. He lost his mind and jumped into the river, screaming, begging the gods.
"Help me, gods! You know more than I. Tell me! Please! I need no love, no companions, no validation. All I seek is clarity. Please help me make sense of it. I know life is meant to end, but why does it hurt when someone close is willingly ending it? All in the name of the Way of the World! I have pondered it, discussed it and known it for two lifetimes. Then why is the way of the world such that my teacher needs to sacrifice? I already walk the path of self-realization; I do not need so heavy a lesson. Please, make it stop! I beg you!"
Edmure became dangerously fast—faster than his enhanced stats could sustain. Soon, he felt his vision go dark and he fell unconscious. A woman scooped him up, carrying him on her shoulders and saying, "My child, such is the way of the world. I, too, once went berserk, and I still do not know the answers. We just keep trying. I hope you and my daughter can find your path. For such is the way of the world."
She was Elaena's mother, the patron goddess of Lys, the Weeping Lady. She carried Edmure to his chambers and soothed his head. "Sleep at ease, child; perhaps it will help." She left to talk with Elaena, while no one in the castle realized that the gods had intervened directly in the world after so long.