Riverrun
It had been a week since Eddard left for the tourney. The Tullys were in another of their routine meetings.
"Stop scribbling on the map like it's your own diary," Brynden scolded Edmure, who was marking another non-descript location. The large map, which originally depicted only rivers, roads, and land features, was now dotted with markers. To the uninitiated, they might look like towns or secret supply points, but Brynden could find neither rhyme nor reason to their importance. Some were on private estates, others by the rivers, and today's was at a bridge site.
Hoster shared these doubts, but being the Lord Paramount meant he possessed an absurd intelligence network. Even if Brynden was more popular in the taverns of the Trident, every tavern keeper, village reeve, patrolman, and random merchant would spill their secrets to the liege lord. These markers were the places where Edmure had erected his inscriptions. Hoster could see that Edmure was propagating his authority across the realm by inscribing his words for eternity, but he questioned the efficacy of stone alone in creating obedience. Since Edmure refused to engage in meaningful relations with the Faith or his peers, Hoster let him be. In his mind, anyway most of Edmure's legitimacy would come from his lineage and his political backing.
Edmure ignored his uncle and marked inscription number thirty-four. Yesterday, a report had arrived that a bridge under construction had collapsed. Since the overall pace of logistics is determined by its slowest link, Edmure had ridden overnight to rebuild it. Using his underwater perks, he had finished the work by morning and inscribed some basic civil engineering ethos onto a nearby rock.
"Vyman, has any message arrived from Harrenhal? The tourney should have ended yesterday; I hope Eddard is alright," Brynden said. "Now, I'll simply drown my evenings in a drunken stupor to enjoy these last days with my honor intact. My bastard brother is asking me to be an oathbreaker before all the realms. It's a good thing I'm not married, or else my children would face judgmental eyes even from their friends." Brynden had steeled his heart and agreed to the plan; he would make the sacrifice to keep the core Tully family as unblemished as a rebel had the right to be.
Hoster was about to offer consolation when he noticed Edmure in a trance. His son was tracing his fingers over the map, his eyes unfocused as if he were not truly there. This genuinely startled Hoster, and he motioned for Vyman to check on him. Vyman began to feel for a heartbeat and temperature while gently nudging the boy.
"Apologies for the poor show," Edmure said, snapping back. "I sensed scattered dangers on the border with the West. At first, I paid no attention, thinking they would provide experience for our patrols. But I just noticed that these raiders are uncharacteristically stealthy—neither fighting nor looting, but moving at random. I then believed, that they are defeated brigands from the West who fled here; now battered, they are running to save their lives rather than to plunder."
Edmure described these feelings based on his Threat Detection perk. Hoster began calculating how this could be utilized in the coming war. The Tullys could have a massive advantage: always appearing where the enemy least expected them while avoiding ambushes and forced engagements.
"On a whim, I tried to think where they might gather if they were part of a single group," Edmure continued. "Like the regrouping drills my men-at-arms conduct, where we scatter behind enemy lines and regroup days later at a predetermined point."
His hypothesis drew nods from the veterans. Everyone had agreed that the heir's light cavalry were superb strategic assets. In a straight fight, they would lose to knights, but they were expert in performing such maneuvers with dozens of independent units in fluid coordination. A commander's dream. Edmure added, "They are converging at the village I wrestled away from the Goodbrooks a few months ago."
"The one where you carved that nonsense on the rock about being the beloved of the gods?" Hoster pointed to the location on the map. "Do you know the High Septon even sent a raven threatening to censor us? It's just the Iron Throne and the Lannisters putting pressure on us, but such accusations pile up fast. Next thing you know, we're being hunted down by everyone."
"Yes, that one. Just to be safe, I'll ride out and see if there is merit to my guess. I'll be gone for a few days. Bye." Without waiting for an opinion, Edmure rushed out.
Harrenhal
"I'm proud of Catelyn's husband; he is such a fine young man," Walter Whent told his wife, Shella, at the end of the day's festivities. The tourney had ended, the King had departed, and the Whents finally found respite. They had been concerned the Tullys would spoil the event with politics, but thankfully, the Tullys had shown restraint by vacating the Eastern Trident, and the Lannisters had remained quiet.
"I'm happy for the child," Shella replied. "It is Lysa who worries me. She had a relationship with young Jaime—I saw him at the tourney—but it seems unlikely the Houses will allow a union. I think Ser Arthur Dayne wants to match his sister Ashara with the boy. Who knows how that will go?" She chatted away, knowing the tourney was a pastime for youth while the real matters were political. Her husband had been offered a seat on the Small Council and potential paramountcy by the King himself.
Noticing his wife's worry, Walter took her hand. "Don't worry; what is to come will eventually arrive. Time waits for no one. I'll try to delay for as long as I can, but in the next six months, I'll have to go to the capital and take our sons with us. I'll formally take charge of the Trident then. Don't let it matter in your relationship with your nieces; we men will keep our matters separate."
Near Harrenhal
"I'm sorry for you, my child, but she is just a woman. Don't take it to heart," Jon Arryn said to a furious Robert Baratheon. "I knew the Starks were going to break the betrothal. But since they've promised to support your claim to the throne, I decided on my own."
"But how could you? How could you all betray me for no reason?" Robert shouted. "I don't care for any throne! Why are you arbitrarily making decisions for me? I was your ward, yet you still took part in that Tully nonsense. How am I supposed to trust you? What if you betray me after I claim the throne? In the eyes of the world, I'll be a usurper; killing me won't bring anyone infamy."
"Think carefully. With the throne, you will have all the power. By then, you could ask for Lyanna; I don't think Eddard would disagree. At least you trust your friend, right? I taught you that honest people are the easiest to handle—show them sincerity and they will stay with you."
"Yes, but Eddard is just a second son," Robert relented, though he was secretly considering other ways. "Brandon and their father, Rickard, will decide family matters."
Jon sensed the veiled thoughts but pretended not to. "Eddard will become the heir to the North. The Tullys have shown their preference by choosing him over Brandon. Now old Rickard is in a peculiar position. On one hand, there is a chance to right the wrong and use the Tully excuse to remove the Targaryens. But there is a slight risk the Tullys will use foul means against his heir. I believe he will still act with the Tullys while defending against a sneak attack. The Tullys are not that powerful; as long as the Starks keep their guard up, Brandon will live and inherit easily."
Jon explained the situation without stating his position. But Robert had already began to see the old man in a different light, and a dark guess crossed his mind.
"Now, child, don't fret. Perhaps everything will turn out well on its own," Jon instructed. "In the meantime, be ready for the Tullys to declare their intentions. When they do, don't rush in. Instead, seize Summerhall, citing the need to protect it from bandits. The Targaryens have stationed a massive resources pile there for its repair. It would be shameful to let it slip."