CHAPTER 177
Two more days passed before Robb's raven finally arrived at Riverrun.
Inside Riverrun, more than a hundred Northern soldiers and Riverlands men-at-arms gathered around the training yard, watching Garon and Brynden Tully exchange blows.
At the same time, from the windows of the second-floor gallery overlooking the courtyard, the Westerling family also observed the sparring match below.
Bare-chested and wielding a blunted training sword, Garon calmly crossed blades with Brynden.
Both men were seasoned veterans.
Neither fought with the intent to injure, carefully controlling their strength while exchanging precise and disciplined strikes.
Even so, after only a few rounds, Brynden was already beginning to regret agreeing to the match.
Every time Garon's sword crashed against his own, the Blackfish felt the impact travel through his aging arm.
Although he continued using his superior experience and footwork to redirect the attacks, Garon's relentless pressure gradually forced him backward, making every defense increasingly difficult.
Only now did Brynden truly understand how Garon had managed to defeat Victarion Greyjoy.
Clang!
Garon suddenly stepped forward and brought his sword down with tremendous force.
Brynden instinctively raised his own blade to block.
The impact exploded through both weapons.
His right arm instantly went numb.
Unable to maintain his grip, Brynden's training sword flew from his hand before burying itself in the dirt.
The force of the blow pushed him back several paces.
He nearly lost his footing altogether.
The moment he steadied himself, the watching soldiers erupted into thunderous cheers.
"Glover!"
"Glover!"
"Glover!"
Garon immediately lowered his own sword before planting it into the ground.
Ignoring the cheers around him, he walked over to Brynden.
"Lord Brynden."
"Are you hurt?"
Brynden simply laughed.
"Haha..."
"I lost."
Looking at Garon's powerful physique, he could not help smiling.
"I once doubted the stories about you defeating Victarion Greyjoy in single combat."
"But now..."
"I know I underestimated you."
"With your present skill..."
"Even Ser Arthur Dayne might struggle against you."
Garon smiled modestly.
"I only won because age has slowed you, Lord Brynden."
"If you were twenty years younger..."
"I wouldn't stand much chance."
Brynden immediately burst into laughter again.
Watching from the gallery above, Lady Sybell Spicer saw the match conclude and gently led her daughter away.
As they walked along the corridor, she quietly instructed Jeyne.
"Jeyne."
"When you have the opportunity..."
"Speak with Lord Garon more often."
"He is deeply trusted by King Robb."
"And he is to marry Lady Sansa Stark."
"Maintaining a good relationship with him will benefit you greatly in the future."
Jeyne obediently nodded.
"I understand, Mother."
"Perhaps..."
"I could prepare some desserts for him later."
Lady Sybell sighed helplessly.
"No."
"You are destined to be a queen."
"You mustn't appear overly eager."
"When you speak with him..."
"Ask about King Robb's campaigns."
"If Lord Garon is willing..."
"Perhaps arrange for your brother to learn swordsmanship from him."
Jeyne continued walking quietly beside her mother.
Yet her thoughts drifted elsewhere.
Images of Garon's broad shoulders and sweat-covered upper body during the sparring match filled her mind.
Then she remembered Robb.
Her cheeks immediately turned crimson.
Lady Sybell noticed the blush but assumed her daughter had merely become shy again.
"If Lord Garon refuses..."
"Don't insist."
"Simply continue speaking with him about the war."
While Lady Sybell carefully instructed her daughter on gathering useful information, Maester Vyman suddenly appeared at the far end of the corridor.
The elderly maester hurried down the stone steps before almost running across the courtyard.
"Lord Brynden!"
"Lord Garon!"
He stopped to catch his breath.
"A raven..."
"From King Robb."
He immediately handed the letter to Brynden.
After only a quick glance, Brynden's expression became serious.
He passed the letter directly to Garon.
"It seems you'll have to leave immediately."
Garon's heart tightened.
For a brief moment, he feared Robb had suffered a major defeat.
He quickly unfolded the letter.
Its contents were surprisingly brief.
Robb simply ordered him to march immediately to the Trident crossings and join the main army.
Rolling up the letter, Garon's expression became solemn.
"What happened?"
"Why the sudden summons?"
"Did the Lannisters launch an attack?"
Brynden slowly shook his head.
Knowing the Riverlands as well as anyone alive, he quietly sighed.
"If Robb didn't mention the Lannisters..."
"Then the problem likely comes from somewhere else."
"My guess..."
"House Frey."
"They've probably raised another troublesome demand."
Garon's eyes flickered.
After thinking for a moment, he nodded.
"Whatever the reason..."
"His Grace has summoned me."
"I must leave immediately."
He looked toward Brynden.
"Please prepare provisions and riverboats."
"I'll take my men downstream along the Red Fork."
Brynden immediately agreed.
"I'll see to it."
"Everything will be ready before this afternoon."
Garon wasted no further time.
He returned to his chambers, changed into armor suitable for travel, and immediately ordered all of his remaining soldiers to assemble.
Once Brynden finished preparing boats and supplies, Garon led his eight hundred men aboard the waiting vessels.
Without delay, the flotilla departed Riverrun and sailed downstream along the Red Fork toward the Trident crossings.
Meanwhile, at the military camp near the Trident, Roose Bolton continued carefully manipulating the growing tension between the Ironborn and the Northern lords.
"Enough."
"Lord Tallhart."
"Lord Rodrik Harlaw is now our ally."
"The men of Torrhen's Square suffered at the hands of Euron Greyjoy."
"Not Lord Rodrik."
Robb frowned as he physically separated the angry men.
At the same time, he quietly signaled Roose Bolton with a glance, indicating that he should lead the Ironborn away before another fight broke out.
Roose naturally obeyed.
He calmly escorted Rodrik Harlaw toward a quieter corner of the camp.
Although he appeared merely conciliatory, every word he spoke carefully tested the Ironborn lord.
"Lord Rodrik."
"You should never have come."
"The Ironborn caused terrible suffering throughout the North."
"The people of Torrhen's Square cannot simply forget."
"An alliance alone won't erase that hatred."
After finishing, Roose deliberately sighed.
Rodrik understood immediately.
Only moments earlier, several angry Northmen had started a fight with his men.
Their lord had made little effort to restrain them.
Had Robb not arrived when he did, blood would almost certainly have been spilled.
Remembering Garon's instructions before leaving Riverrun, Rodrik deliberately played his part.
"Hmph."
"You think I wanted to come here?"
"If Lord Garon hadn't promised Queen Asha a share of future spoils..."
"We wouldn't have involved ourselves in your war."
"Spoils?"
Roose's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.
He casually replied,
"Lord Garon isn't King in the North."
"Promises he makes may not necessarily be honored."
Rodrik immediately sneered.
"The Starks agreed as well."
"If anyone intends to betray that agreement..."
"Then don't blame the Ironborn for answering in kind."
Every word perfectly portrayed an ambitious Ironborn captain interested only in plunder.
Roose calmly continued probing.
"Really?"
"So you're not concerned that Garon might attack Pyke again?"
Rodrik laughed dismissively.
"Hah."
"Do you truly believe Garon is some unmatched military genius?"
"Euron Crow's Eye lost because he became careless."
"If Garon dares return to Pyke again..."
Rodrik merely smiled coldly without finishing the sentence.
That unfinished threat was enough.
For the first time, a faint light flashed within Roose Bolton's cold eyes.
He believed he finally understood.
The Ironborn still carried resentment toward Garon.
Given the proper opportunity...
They might willingly remove him.
"Petyr spoke the truth."
"Now I only need the right opportunity."
"The opportunity to persuade Rodrik Harlaw."
Roose silently added another piece to his growing conspiracy.
Everything was becoming clearer.
What he did not know, however, was that every step of his scheme had already been anticipated by Garon.
And the unexpected was approaching far faster than Roose Bolton could possibly imagine.