At half past six in the evening, darkness had completely swallowed the sky.
The storm that had been building all afternoon finally broke in full force, drowning out nearly every sound beneath the relentless roar of rain.
Heavy drops hammered against the stone walls of the Twins with sharp, echoing cracks.
Thunder rolled like the war drums of giants across the black sky.
Through the torrential rain, only the torches burning atop the castle walls guided Galon and his companions toward their destination.
The group crossed the drawbridge in silence and arrived before the main gate of the western castle.
Galon and the lords behind him dismounted, removing their rain cloaks to reveal what lay beneath.
Every one of them wore armor.
Every sword remained at its owner's side.
Waiting at the entrance was Lothar Frey.
His face had been full of impatience, but the moment he saw Galon dismount, a mocking grin spread openly across his face.
"Lord Glover. You finally made it."
His voice dripped with contempt.
"Lord Frey and Lord Bolton have been waiting for quite some time. Please, come inside before your... impressive armor gets soaked."
Lothar glanced carelessly at the black scale armor Galon wore, never realizing it was among the finest suits of Valyrian scale armor in existence.
Before stepping inside, Galon spoke calmly.
"Ser Lothar, before entering the castle, I would first like to share House Frey's bread and salt."
Lothar had expected the request.
The sneer on his face only deepened as he clapped his hands.
A group of servants immediately approached carrying wooden trays.
"Go on and eat. But if you delay much longer, Lord Edmure might grow impatient."
Galon looked at the bread and salt before taking a piece and eating it.
The lords and guards behind him did the same.
While doing so, Galon's eyes casually swept across the soldiers guarding the gate before he nodded.
"Then I'll trouble you to lead the way."
Lothar proudly inclined his head before turning toward the servants. "Take care of their horses. Make sure they're well looked after."
With that, he gestured grandly.
"This way."
He led them along the stone walkway toward the brilliantly illuminated great hall, whose warm light concealed deadly intentions.
Galon gave a subtle glance to the lords and guards behind him, silently signaling them to remain ready before following at an unhurried pace.
Once the hundred Northerners had disappeared inside, the servants led away their horses.
The drawbridge slowly rose once more.
At that moment, fewer than thirty soldiers remained guarding the gate.
About ten minutes later, the party arrived at the great hall where the wedding feast was being held.
The instant they stepped inside, warmth washed over them.
Golden candlelight filled the chamber, standing in stark contrast to the raging storm outside.
Long banquet tables overflowed with rich food.
In one corner, minstrels played cheerful melodies.
At the head of the hall sat Walder Frey.
His wrinkled face, covered in age spots, looked even more sinister beneath the dancing firelight.
Seated below him was Roose Bolton, calmly holding a wine cup while studying every person who entered.
His brow tightened ever so slightly when he noticed that Galon and all his companions still wore armor and carried weapons.
At the same moment, Galon's sharp eyes caught the faint gleam of chainmail hidden beneath the elegant robes worn by both Walder and Roose.
Lowering his gaze, he stepped closer to Walder's seat.
"Lord Frey."
"Why aren't Lord Edmure and his bride here?"
Walder narrowed his cloudy eyes, studying the man reputed to be undefeated in battle.
"Who knows?
Perhaps it's such a fine day that they've begun celebrating a little too enthusiastically.
I've already sent someone to fetch them. Please, Lord Glover, have a seat and wait a while."
His eyes drifted over Galon's armored companions before a mocking smile appeared.
"I must admit, I never expected you'd attend Lord Edmure's wedding wearing armor and carrying weapons.
What is it? Afraid I'll keep all of you here?"
Galon calmly shook his head. "The journey here left us no time to change into formal clothing."
"Besides, we intend to leave for the North immediately after the wedding. I hope you'll forgive the lack of proper attire."
Walder chuckled dismissively and said nothing more.
Seeing that, Galon exchanged a subtle glance with Lady Mormont, Lord Cerwyn, Greatjon Umber, and the others before taking his seat near the lower end of the banquet table.
His chosen seat happened to face the small chamber on the western side of the hall that Patrek had previously described—a resting room used by servants and minstrels.
Without drawing attention, Galon observed servants carrying trays in and out before shifting his eyes toward Roose, silently judging the distance between them.
Roose, who had been watching Galon all along, mistook the glance for a greeting and gave him a polite nod.
Galon returned it with an equally pleasant smile.
'By now, Lord Rickard should have reached the camp. I only need to buy a little more time.'
'Though judging by the atmosphere, the Freys are growing impatient.'
Galon slowly rubbed the wine cup before him.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Walder beckon one of the servants and whisper a few instructions.
The servant hurried over to the minstrels playing in the corner.
After a brief exchange, the musicians nodded.
Then they changed songs.
The familiar melody echoed through the hall.
Dark.
Foreboding.
Filled with quiet malice.
Galon's heart sank. 'The Rains of Castamere. So... they've decided to begin.'
At the same moment, the Frey soldiers disguised as servants began quietly moving along the stone walls of the hall, slowly surrounding the table where Galon and his companions sat.
This time, not only Galon noticed.
Lady Mormont and the others immediately sensed the danger as well.
Their eyes swept across the room. Every hand settled upon a sword hilt.
The cheerful atmosphere vanished. The killing intent in the hall was now impossible to hide.
A cruel smile slowly spread across Roose's face.
He lifted his wine cup, prepared to watch the slaughter unfold.
Then, just as everyone stood on the edge of violence, Galon suddenly rose to his feet.
Lifting his own cup, he looked toward Walder with perfectly measured respect.
"Lord Frey!"
His voice rang clearly through the hall.
"The situation may be difficult, but the alliance between House Frey and House Tully remains the strongest pillar supporting us all.
On behalf of the North, allow me to offer you this toast."
As he spoke, he slowly walked several steps toward Walder while holding his cup.
Every eye in the hall turned toward him.
Even the Frey soldiers preparing to attack instinctively paused, waiting for Walder's reaction.
Walder gave it no thought. Or rather, he believed Galon and the others had no possible escape.
With a smug laugh, he raised his own cup.
"Ha!"
While Walder lifted the wine to his lips, Galon quietly closed the remaining distance.
Only ten paces separated them now.
Watching the exchange, Roose frowned slightly. An uneasy feeling stirred within him.
The instant Walder tilted his head back to drink—
Galon moved.
He exploded forward like a hunting leopard. Covering ten paces in barely two breaths.
"Now!"
Galon's roar shattered the hall.
His greatsword flashed from its scabbard, cutting down the guard standing before him in a single stroke.
Everything erupted.
Lady Mormont, Greatjon Umber, and the others surged to their feet. Steel rang as swords were drawn.
Part of the group rushed forward to shield Galon.
The rest charged directly at Roose Bolton.
Roose's reaction was every bit as swift.
After the briefest moment of surprise, he seized the banquet table before him and flipped it over with all his strength.
The heavy table crashed to the floor, blocking the attackers.
Roose himself slipped backward like a ghost, disappearing behind the wall of guards surrounding him.
"Kill them!"
"Protect Lord Frey!"
Only then did the Frey soldiers fully react.
Weapons were drawn as they rushed forward.
Lady Mormont and the others met them head-on with murderous determination.
Just as the two sides were about to clash, Galon had already reached Walder Frey.
One hand held his sword.
The other gripped Walder tightly by the throat.
His voice thundered across the great hall. "Nobody move! Whoever takes one more step..."
"I'll kill your lord."
Silence fell over the hall. Even the storm outside seemed distant for a single breath.
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