"Galon!"
Robb hurried over, his young face filled with guilt and pleading.
Galon stared directly at him for a long moment without speaking.
Only after making Robb visibly uncomfortable did he let out a deep sigh.
"Your Grace, I've heard Riverrun has a godswood as well. Would you mind taking me there for a walk?"
Joy immediately flashed across Robb's face.
"It's over there."
He pointed toward the southwest.
"I'll take you."
After speaking, he looked at Galon expectantly.
Given Robb's attitude in the study earlier, Galon had to respond appropriately.
Only then would Robb place even greater value on him.
Galon gave a slight nod but said nothing. He simply walked beside Robb in silence toward the tranquil godswood within the castle.
Riverrun's godswood was different from Winterfell's.
Though it was already approaching five in the afternoon, the air remained fresh and bright.
Flowers bloomed everywhere, and streams flowed gently through the grove.
Even the weirwood at the center of the garden appeared more graceful and slender, lacking the ancient severity and imposing majesty of Winterfell's thousand-year-old heart tree.
Its crimson leaves glowed vividly in the moist air. The carved face upon its trunk seemed less stern and more compassionate.
The two walked one behind the other through the fragrant flowers.
A gentle breeze happened to sweep through the grove.
Breathing in the scent of blossoms, Galon found himself visibly more relaxed.
Seizing the opportunity, Robb spoke. "Who was that man earlier? You seemed to value him quite a bit."
Galon glanced at him but never slowed his pace.
His voice remained calm.
"Patrek Frey. Jason Mallister assigned him to serve as my guide."
"I originally thought he might help repair relations between you and House Frey. Now it seems you won't be needing that."
Emotion flickered across Robb's face, his eyes filled with gratitude.
"Galon... I'm sorry."
He turned toward him, his voice growing hoarse.
"I disappointed you today."
Galon stopped before the carved weirwood.
He acted as though he had not heard Robb at all.
Instead, he placed a hand upon the face stained red by the tree's sap, as though communing with the Old Gods.
Silence stretched between them.
Only when Galon felt the moment had ripened enough did he slowly turn around.
There was no anger on his face.
Only calm.
"Your Grace, I love Sansa. Truly love her."
His voice was soft.
"Others may be disappointed in you, but I won't... Because I am both your bannerman and Sansa's future husband.
If one day we lose, then Deepwood Motte and I will simply stake our lives alongside yours.
But Your Grace, you should think carefully about what happens if we fail."
Turning away again, he slowly ran his hand along the pale trunk of the weirwood while describing the future he foresaw.
"Winterfell will fall into the hands of others. Bran and Rickon will be killed.
And my betrothed—your sister—will become a prize used by others to control the North."
He gave a bitter laugh.
"Who knows? Perhaps Tywin will even force her to marry that dwarf son of his..."
"Stop!"
Robb slammed a fist against the tree, his face twisted with pain.
"Isn't there any way to have both?"
"Have both?"
Galon sneered inwardly, though his face showed only contemplation.
After a pause, he spoke hesitantly.
"There... may be one possibility.
Since you refuse to personally humble yourself before House Frey, perhaps the honor of House Tully could serve as compensation.
It may be the only substitute old Walder would accept."
Looking directly at Robb, he spoke each word clearly.
"Have your uncle, Lord Edmure Tully of Riverrun, marry Roslin Frey in your place.
Use a lord paramount's wedding to wash away the shame caused by a king breaking his marriage pact.
This is our last—and only—chance."
Galon had expected Robb to weigh the proposal carefully.
Instead, an even deeper bitterness appeared on the young king's face.
"I already did."
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"The moment I learned the outcome of the Battle of the Blackwater, I immediately sent word to the Twins."
"I proposed exactly that... But no reply has come."
Galon's pupils contracted almost imperceptibly.
His mind began turning rapidly while his expression remained unchanged.
'So the Freys still haven't responded. That means the script for the Red Wedding hasn't been completed yet.'
'There's still time.'
'I need to find a way to send Patrek Frey back to the Twins as soon as possible.'
'Perhaps making Patrek a member of Robb's Kingsguard would be the perfect move.'
If old Walder truly intended to follow the path leading to the Red Wedding, then Patrek—once elevated into Robb's royal household—would become an invaluable piece.
Monitoring Robb's every movement would greatly benefit Galon's plans.
Even if Patrek himself failed to see the opportunity, a schemer like Roose Bolton certainly would.
'Only if Patrek is summoned back to the Twins can my eyes enter the castle naturally.'
Galon quickly reached a decision.
Deliberately assuming a grave expression, he paced through the godswood as though wrestling with a difficult problem.
"No. We can't keep waiting." He stopped and fixed Robb with an urgent look. "We need to extend goodwill immediately."
"A gesture that old Walder can see but cannot easily reject."
A spark appeared in Robb's eyes.
"How?"
Galon's gaze seemed to pierce through the branches overhead and settle somewhere beyond the grove.
"Patrek Frey."
He spoke the name calmly.
"I've heard he's a distant branch member of House Frey. He found no success at either the Twins or Seagard, but he's a loyal and dutiful knight.
Right now, everyone in Riverrun looks down on him. They mock him. They isolate him.
And you, Robb Stark, King in the North, should find an opportunity to publicly recruit him into your royal guard."
"What?"
Robb looked baffled.
"How would that help?
Galon, you don't know this, but there was already a Patrek Frey who left my guard before."
"That's exactly why it helps."
Galon's eyes shone with calculated wisdom. "The act itself is a powerful political signal."
"It tells old Walder that although you cannot fulfill the marriage pact, and although Freys have abandoned you, you still respect honorable and loyal members of House Frey.
It tells every lord in the Riverlands that you are a king who judges men by merit rather than grudges."
He looked directly at Robb and emphasized each word.
"Even if old Walder rejects the gesture, we can still steady the hearts of the other Riverlords.
This costs us almost nothing. Yet it brings tremendous political benefits.
Your Grace, sometimes a gesture carries more power than an army."
Robb was completely convinced by Galon's detailed reasoning.
"Very well." He nodded. "I'll do as you suggest. Tonight, during the banquet welcoming your arrival."
Looking up at the sky, he realized how late it had become.
"We should head back. The feast will begin soon."
Galon agreed.
The two retraced their steps through the godswood.
That evening, the atmosphere at the banquet remained somewhat tense.
When Robb Stark rose from his seat and publicly announced that he intended to appoint Ser Patrek Frey to his royal guard, the entire hall fell into a strange silence.
Then came a wave of whispers.
Patrek himself stood frozen in a forgotten corner of the hall as though struck by lightning.
His face was filled with disbelief.
He looked up toward the king.
Then, almost instinctively, his gaze shifted toward Galon seated beside him.
At just that moment, Galon gave him a subtle nod.
Patrek's entire body trembled.
He instantly understood what Galon had meant earlier that afternoon.
'It was Lord Galon!'
'He spoke for me before the king. He recommended me to His Grace!'
'Lord Galon... he saw my worth!'
Tears welled in Patrek's eyes.
Years of frustration and obscurity transformed into overwhelming gratitude.
'If I ever have the chance...'
'I will repay Lord Galon's kindness.'
__________
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