"The first is about Jon Arryn's death, Lord Arryn's unnatural death. According to my intelligence, Lord Jon, having found clues to a Lannister scandal, decided to send his heir Robert to Dragonstone. Littlefinger persuaded Lysa to put the Tears of Lys in Jon's wine."
"What?" Lord Hoster trembled all over. This explosive news made his head spin, and his body felt as if it were being pinched by crabs, but the pain brought a trace of clarity and vitality.
"Damn it, damn it! I had long urged Arryn to send Petyr to a battlefield where he would surely die, or to a suitable position. There were plenty of people willing to solve problems for a Lord, I could even have sent men. But he said it was not the way of a knight, that honor was too high..."
"You must face the truth, Lord Hoster," Gendry said. "So I told you a clue beforehand."
Hoster looked at Gendry. The young man did not seem like he was lying to deceive an old man. Besides, he had heard rumors about Lysa and Littlefinger. Hoster knew some about Lysa's madness, but he didn't believe it had reached such an extent.
"No... no..." Hoster's face fell, and much of the light in his eyes diminished. Hoster was incoherent. This was a catastrophic scandal. If the Vale learned of this news, there would surely be blood for blood, and House Tully's reputation would be ruined by this scandal. After all, directly poisoning one's husband, that was too...
"The clues at hand are almost complete, but I still lack two key witnesses: Littlefinger and Lady Lysa, who is hiding in The Eyrie. Littlefinger will soon fall into my hands, and the truth of this matter will quickly come to light."
"Is it really them?" Hoster's face was extremely grim.
"Then can you bring her to Riverrun and imprison her?"
Gendry remained silent.
"Then can you bring her back to Riverrun before executing her?"
Gendry still did not speak.
"Lysa, she..."
"There is no way out," Gendry looked at Lord Hoster, his words like a heavy hammer falling, cold and severe.
"Surely?" Lord Hoster pleaded.
"The great crime of kinslaying, the great crime of poisoning the hand of the king. Moreover, Lady Lysa has committed treason by isolating herself and ignoring messages from all sides, refusing to acknowledge the overtures of any claimant to the iron throne, including me."
"I understand," Lord Hoster seemed to shrink a bit, "I understand. She is a madwoman, because of her love for Littlefinger. But Littlefinger is just a deceiver; he only loves power."
"What about little Robert?"
"He is Lord Jon's Child, so he still has a claim to inheritance, but we will find a better place for the Child. However, you should know about Robert's health."
"I know," Hoster nodded. "He is small and frail... Alas..."
"wormwood, wormwood..." Hoster murmured. That was such a heartbreaking matter for him. But now that it was out, it was better than the Arryn family's followers invading the Riverlands.
That year, Lysa was pregnant with Littlefinger's Child, and Lord Hoster sent someone to abort the Child with moon tea—wormwood, mint, and bitter wormwood, plus a spoonful of honey and a drop of peppermint oil.
"I understand what you mean. Lysa is no longer my daughter," Hoster suddenly became cold, a trace of resolve appearing in his blue eyes.
Between a daughter and House Tully, at his dying age, he still knew what was more important.
"I will call Edmure and Tytos in. I will write my letter in their presence. This is my true intention," Lord Hoster said in a negotiating tone. "Edmure and Catelyn are too fond of family members. If I don't explain it myself, I'm afraid they won't dare to believe this news."
Too fond of family members, to put it bluntly, was selfish behavior. Just as Lysa poisoned Arryn for herself and Littlefinger, Catelyn directly wanted to bind The Imp for her son.
"No hurry, there's one more thing. This is good news for you."
"What is it?" Hoster asked hesitantly.
"Frey Family, the tardy Lord Frey. I don't trust them."
"Are you going to act against them?"
"I have that thought, which is why I ordered all letters and envoys to be controlled."
"They did not obey their liege Lord's commands, but that is no excuse for slaughtering Frey," Hoster said in horror.
"We are not slaughtering Frey. The Lannister Mercenaries have already surrendered, and these routed soldiers can naturally find a better place."
"Then I, Frey has already violated the liege Lord's commands; they are not loyal. I will order an attack," Hoster suddenly understood something. This was a scheme within a scheme.
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