"So be it, so be it. Edmure's capabilities, he's never been much of a fighter, but he might make a decent castle lord," Hoster smiled bitterly. "I planned for so long, only for it to come to nothing, still at the starting point. But if I see Old Frey fall before me, that damned weasel, I will at least have won something."
"Is winter really coming?"
"Summer has lasted for about ten years. Once winter arrives, with heavy snow, no one can survive alone."
"Just survive, just survive," Hoster muttered, unsure if he was talking about himself or his family.
Gendry looked at Hoster. He didn't want to deceive the old man. In the cruel Long Winter, the collapse of rites and music would be normal. If things followed their normal course, House Tully would only suffer more.
"Let Edmure come in first. Although he is older, some things he might not be able to accept right away."
After a while, Ser Edmure entered the tent, looking at his tired and withered father.
"Remember our house words: Family, Duty, Honor. Catelyn forgot duty, Lysa forgot honor. I hope you remember both," Lord Hoster said to Edmure.
"What is this about?" Edmure was somewhat bewildered. He had the Tully family's auburn hair and a medium build. Previously, his beard made him look formidable, but now he appeared very disheveled.
"Kneel, Child, before your liege. Obey the King's command, submit to the King's will, and continue our family," Lord Hoster looked at Edmure, and light suddenly shone in his eyes.
"Long live the heir Gendry." Ser Edmure did not refuse his father's will, so he knelt down and placed his sword at Gendry's feet.
Gendry helped Ser Edmure, the melancholy, sorrowful heir of House Tully, to his feet.
"From now on, you need to remember every word I say," Lord Hoster said to Edmure.
"Your sister... Lysa, because she is involved in some unsavory matters concerning Lord Jon, I will sever ties with her. From now on, she is no longer a member of House Tully." Hoster looked at Ser Edmure, his eyes seemingly emitting flames.
"Father, what are you saying?" Edmure was startled. Lord Hoster's words immediately made his head buzz.
"Some unsavory matters. Do you really want me to be so explicit? It's Lord Jon's death, and Lysa and Littlefinger are inextricably linked to it."
"This…" Edmure's mouth hung open, dazed. Though he was incompetent, he was at least a normal person. He knew quite a bit about his second sister's affairs, but he never imagined it was so terrifying. Not only did she offend the Vale, but she also implicated House Tully.
Ser Edmure was unhappy, plummeting from the happiness of being rescued into an ice cavern.
Gendry looked at Ser Edmure, a bewildered fish, a lonely young man.
"Damn it, Littlefinger is damned, Lysa is damned, I am most damned. I am the Lord, and also Lysa's father... but I can only abandon her. My time is short, Child, House Tully depends on you now. Your abilities are not quite enough; you can only pledge fealty to your King, and rely on your uncle, the Blackfish."
Edmure looked at his father with dry eyes, "I will remember those words: Family, Duty, Honor."
"I will kill Littlefinger, for honor," Ser Edmure cursed.
"If your sister Catelyn asks, I hope you will explain a thing or two to her."
Ser Edmure nodded with difficulty. "Understood."
"Alright, let's not discuss these matters anymore. Let Lord Tytos come in."
Count Tytos hurriedly entered the tent. He saw Edmure, Lord Hoster, and Gendry.
"Prince Gendry, Lord Hoster, have you finished your discussion? We should summon our vassals for revenge," Tytos said, thinking the two were discussing the war to be launched towards Harrenhal. "I believe we should capitalize on the momentum of the Battle of the Whispering Woods and end the war as soon as possible. We need to march towards Harrenhal and also summon forces from the North or Across the Narrow Sea to defeat Tywin."
Count Tytos was deaf to all cautious suggestions. Besides his fiery temper, it was probably also because his own castle had been burned, filling him with rage.
"We did discuss war," Lord Hoster said. "But not south, but north."
"What?" Count Tytos was greatly surprised. "Tywin's forces are clearly south of Riverrun."
"Count Tytos, our target is not Harrenhal, but the Twins. It is Frey, Old Frey betrayed me. He never sent troops to support me, and I remember it all."
"But Lord Hoster, now is not the time for resentment. Even if Lord Frey acted this way, he is an old man. We have finally gained morale; we should summon our vassals and march south in one swoop."
"This is not resentment, this is betrayal, Lord Tytos," Gendry interjected. "Loyalty is not absolute, and it shows contempt for the liege. This is naked betrayal, a violation of the sacred oath to the liege."
"Yes..." Count Tytos looked at him, speaking hesitantly. The Count understood the general idea. But Tytos dared not refute Gendry. Gendry seemed to exude a tremor of power and strength, and the victor's aura was suffocating. It was Gendry who easily defeated the Kingslayer and relieved Riverrun. Without this fierce warrior, the Riverlands Lords alone would appear even weaker.
"This is not simply a fit of anger; doing this also has strategic significance. If Frey refuses to obey us, then 4,000 soldiers will cut off our retreat and prevent Northern reinforcements from coming south. I cannot take that risk. Frey always mocks my incompetence, so let me bear this infamy."
"How many letters did you send to the Twins?"
"Many," Ser Edmure said. "I wrote letters, but Frey will never send troops unless he smells victory. I haven't seen a single soldier."
"Yes," Count Tytos nodded. "But attacking the Twins is too difficult, isn't it?"
"Difficult, yes, but not impossible to breach," Gendry smiled.
"We have ravens, we have news of Riverrun being besieged, and we have Lannister Mercenaries."
"Alright, Your Highness, Count Tytos," Lord Hoster said. "Please forgive an old man's fear of the cold. I think we should return to Riverrun to discuss this in detail."
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