Finally, with a simple nod, Chett picked four men who would join him. After that, they set out immediately at full speed, making their presence known to any passerby. The Twins thankfully didn't sit on Kingsroad. It sat on the only route that connected the North to Riverrun and the rest of the Westerlands directly. Crossing Freys' bridge reduced distance and time significantly, as there was no other bridge on either side of the Green Fork for hundreds of miles.
As they truly approached the castle on the eastern shore of the river, Wylis understood why it was so hard to conquer. The Twins sat on the banks of the Green Fork, but channels were dug around the castles to form moats, which turned each castle into an island. The only way in was through high curtain walls, a barbican, and portcullis gates.
But having infiltrated the Red Keep, castles didn't intimidate Wylis anymore. With pride, Chett, holding his house sigil flag, they all approached the castle. There was a very small town around the castle, as they all did, but it was insignificant.
Since it was an unannounced visit, Wylis knew he'd have to wait. It was still worth it for what he had planned.
Chett went ahead first and shouted Wylis' title, and then spoke with whoever was at the gates. Moments later, the master-at-arms of the Twins appeared, and welcomed Wylis with smiles and respect.
No matter the animosity, most houses didn't act petty unless they were too dense. Wylis knew even Dreadfort would receive him with respect if he went there. What happened inside, however, was an entirely different matter.
Passing through the barbican, Wylis noticed the many battlements of the castle where scorpions could be placed. As he reached the courtyard, he found dozens of armed Frey armsmen seemingly waiting for him.
"My lord."
Soon enough, a few stableboys came and took the horses from him. Seeing them reminded him of his old days when he used to do the same. So much had changed.
"This way, Lord Kaiser. Lord Frey is waiting for you in his hall."
Wylis followed the master-at-arms and arrived at a small hall, or more like a dining room. A long table was set there, and the servants walked around. At the end of the table sat Walder Frey, eating, a girl seated on his left leg, his hands groping her freely. At least she looked of age.
"Ah, Lord Kaiser, about bloody time we meet. Forgive an old sack like me, I'd stand if these cursed bones allowed it. Sit, sit, and we'll have supper together. No finer way to make friends, aye?"
Wylis had to agree, the fucker had a thick skin. Talking about being friends after nearly getting him killed. And old? The man was making kids even in his nineties, if he remembered correctly. The man just didn't want to stand up for an upstart, insignificant lord.
He eyed the hall, and it disgusted him. It wasn't dirty, yet it felt dirty. The air was damp, not much light came from outside, and the torches washed everything in their light. The sight of almost-bald Walder chewing loudly, using his greasy hands to eat and use the same to grope the girl was… revolting.
Wylis sat down, and five of his men stood behind him like a wall, covering his rear. In moments, a plate was served to him with fish stew and some bread. But the stew only had bones, no meat. And the bread was as hard as rock.
"Please, my lord, eat. By the Father's bones, my house hasn't a single speck of Lannister wealth. Only this wretched bridge and the good folk who break their backs working for me," said Walder, drinking wine.
Wylis broke the hard bread with ease and took a bite of the fish-bone stew. It was a show of disrespect towards him; he could see that. Walder Frey didn't consider him a threat, it seemed. And he would've been right if it were any other new noble.
"By good folk, I remembered the steward of Maidenpool, my lord. Quite the story he told." Wylis got to the point.
"Hah, rambling fools, the lot of them. For a scrap of our attention, they spit out all kinds of madness. You've heard it too, I am sure, all that cursed nonsense those bards bleat."
In short, those bards were lying about Wylis. Every word Walder said with a smile carried hidden venom in it.
As Wylis heard Chett's clenched fists shaking and making noise against his belt, he eyed his page seriously, scaring the man to calm.
"Must have been quite the loot, House Mooton's taxes to the Crown."
Walder Frey delayed lifting his spoon and eyed Wylis with a smiling sneer. "Big words from a big man, I see, eh?"
"Big words for a house fed by a single little bridge."
"A very big bridge," said Walder with a laugh. "Have you seen it?"
"They all fall the same."
Walder Frey slammed the spoon down at last and drained his wine in one foul gulp. He stared at Wylis with a filthy scowl, all pretense gone. "You'll never be taken in, boy. You're a dog, Crown's bloody dog. The old houses spit on me as some upstart toll-collector, yet they all shut their cursed mouths when they need my bridge. And you? Compared to me, you're a proper little upstart. Upstarts like you fade quickly. I've got generations of legends and histories at my back. What in the Seven hells do you have?"
"That's why I'm making it myself."
"What? A fool out of yourself?"
"Legends and histories," Wylis replied. He finished eating the hard bread and stew. It seemed to irk the old Walder Frey as the man seethed visibly. "Once, King Aerys blabbered nonsense just like you. Rhaegar as well. I trust you remember their fate, don't you?"
Walder Frey's master-at-arms reached for his sword's hilt right then, and so did a dozen other Frey guards. They did it because Wylis had gotten up and walked towards Walder.
But halfway, Wylis grabbed the wine pitcher and returned to his seat, drinking straight from the jar.
"You will make an enemy out of House Frey?" asked Walder coldly.
Wylis didn't reply and kept drinking until he had gulped down every last drop. Then slammed the jar down hard, cracking the table slightly, splintering the wood.
"You gave me a choice?"
All hands were on hilts, be it Walder's or Wylis's men. But the two lords in question remained seated in calm.
"You come beneath my roof, take my meat and bread, then bark your threats. I know not whether to call you fearless or witless. One flick of my hand and they will cut you down to pieces, boy."
"Hm…" Wylis leaned back in the chair, the wood groaning beneath him. Arms folded, he eyed everyone in the small hall. "Aye, you can do that. But I can say this with absolute certainty that each man and woman in this room dies before my last breath. If you're willing to make that wager, go ahead."
He stared directly into Walder Frey's eyes, as the old lord did the same. The tension reached its peak, all the maids halted in place; gulps were audible. The master-at-arms looked to be sweating, the other Frey guards nervous. In comparison, Chett didn't show fear, only loathing towards Walder, like a feral beast. The other four men were scared, however.
Pa!
"Aaaah!"
And right then, all of a sudden, Walder Frey spanked the girl on his lap so hard she yelped out. Then echoed the old lord's laughter, erasing the tension in the room completely.
"Hah! When I was a whelp, my Father spat in my ear that there are two sorts of men to watch for. The ones who got nothing to lose, and the ones who are willing to lose everything. Mad men like you are a rare sight. Don't you go dying too soon, my lord. I want to hear the damned legends and histories you spin."
"I'll show them alright," Wylis replied and rose. "It was charming meeting y—"
"Ah! Before you go. I hear you got yourself a son. Why not tie the whelp to one of my girls? If the living ones aren't to your liking, I can always make another. Got plenty more seed left in these old bones, eh, girl?" Walder croaked, grinning at the girl perched on his lap.
Ugh… Fuck, that…
That suddenly reminded Wylis how he and Walder Frey were similar in a certain way. In fact, Walder Frey had him beat.
"Dreaming never hurts, Lord Frey," Wylis said and headed out.
Nobody stopped him. Nobody was foolish enough to do that. Not just because of him, but because Robert Baratheon backed him. And the King was still just fresh out of the war, and angering him was the last thing anybody wanted.
As they arrived at the courtyard, they received their horses. The sun had almost set. Without wasting time, they left the castle and headed south on the Kingsroad.
"Why do all that, my lord? Was meeting him necessary?" Chett asked.
"Aye, because now he'll know that I'm behind what happened, yet he'll never be able to prove it," Wylis said, easing Caliburn to a slower stride. "No questions. Chett, take the men back to camp. Fill your bellies, then ride north at an easy pace. I will catch you soon with Caliburn."
"My lo—"
Wylis gave him a stern eye, enough to shut up the tall page of his. He saw the conflict on Chett's face, but the man begrudgingly rode away with the four men. He watched until they fully vanished from his view.
By then, the sun had fully sunk, and it got dark. But he could see just fine with his night vision ability. He turned back towards the Twins and led Caliburn closer to the riverbank.
The dimly lit walls and towers of the Twins were visible in the distance, as was the bridge and its middle Water Tower.
"Look carefully, Caliburn. Admire that bridge for the first and last time."
"Neigh-ehehe!"
"Of all the people he could make an enemy out of, he chose the one who could move earth… literally."
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