In the towering hall of the Eyrie.
The battle spirit just incited by Lysa Arryn flickered in the cold wind like a bonfire on the mountaintop, liable to go out at any moment.
On the faces of the noble knights, excitement and unease intertwined.
The glory of killing a dragon was certainly tempting, but the fear of making enemies of the entire North and the royal family was no small matter.
So far, conservatives and surrenderists made up the vast majority.
Some opportunists had even begun to ponder how to feign agreement, then slack off on the job, hoping to strive for leniency when judged later.
Their army was strong, and Lynn's wildlings were weak, but never forget.
If they wanted to attack the Gift, they could never bypass Winterfell.
The North was definitely not a pushover!
As long as the Vale dared to attack, Ned would give the Vale a head-on blow!
Lysa Arryn took all this in.
She knew hatred and temptation alone weren't enough.
She had to give this group of wavering fence-sitters a real reassurance pill.
Only then could she persuade everyone to walk the tightrope with her, so she could survive Robert's wrath.
"I know what you are worried about."
Lysa's voice sounded again.
This time, she put away her madness and put on a strategizing confidence.
"Do you think I have no reliable allies?"
She looked around at everyone, a mysterious smile curling the corner of her mouth.
"You forget, besides Arryn, my surname is also Tully!"
"Riverrun is my home, Lord Hoster Tully is my father."
"The banner of House Tully will always fly for its own blood!"
"The Riverlands will be our first barrier, and our most reliable ally!"
This sentence relaxed the atmosphere in the hall.
Although the Riverlands were easy to attack and hard to defend, House Tully's prestige and military strength were not to be underestimated.
If they could join, the war situation would be completely different.
"And my sister, Catelyn Stark."
Lysa continued to raise the stakes, her voice carrying a show-off intimacy.
"She is the Lady of Winterfell."
"Ned Stark, that old stubborn mule, might stand with Lynn because of so-called honor and oaths."
"But my sister, she is first a daughter of House Tully!"
"House Tully always puts family first; she will never watch her sister fall into a desperate situation!"
"Please believe me, the North is nothing to fear!"
Nobles began to whisper to each other, doubts on their faces dissipating mostly.
Lady Lysa's words made sense.
This war seemed no longer the Vale against the whole world, but an internal wrestling match between great houses.
War was never a small matter.
It would involve many things.
If only the Vale attacked the Gift, that would truly be hitting a stone with an egg; they would even get bogged down in a bitter fight with the Starks, let alone the Gift.
Seeing the time was ripe, Lysa threw out her last and most deadly chip.
"Of course, I have one more trump card."
She paused, looking at the suspicious gazes from this group of people scared witless by war.
"I have already reached an agreement with Balon Greyjoy of the Iron Islands."
Boom——!
This name instantly stirred up a thousand waves!
Iron Islands?
Those maritime villains who believed in "paying the iron price," knowing only plunder and slaughter?
Balon Greyjoy fanatically believed in and was dedicated to restoring the ancient tradition of the Ironborn—the "Old Way."
To survive and gain glory through sailing and raiding.
Balon first rebelled against the Iron Throne, and although he once burned Lannisport, he was eventually suppressed by Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark.
Balon lost two sons, and his youngest son Theon was sent to Winterfell as a hostage.
If Lynn were here, he would definitely know that after the outbreak of the War of the Five Kings in the future, he refused Robb Stark's alliance proposal, declared himself king again, and marched on the North.
Taking advantage of the emptiness of Northern forces, Ironborn led by Asha, Theon, and others successfully captured Deepwood Motte, Torrhen's Square, and even Winterfell.
One could say this man was a notorious monster!
And also a monster possessing fierce Ironborn people and extremely strong naval combat power!
Moreover, even if Theon hadn't been taken as a hostage, he wouldn't have any good feelings for the Wolves or Stags.
Let alone Theon had become someone else's son. Even if Ned treated Theon Greyjoy as his own son, treating him a thousand times better, that wouldn't do!
He would never let go of a great opportunity to attack the Starks!
Ironborn were just such a notorious group of people!
"My Lady! Are you mad!"
"Bronze Yohn" Royce roared in disbelief.
"You actually allied with those scum who have no honor at all?"
"They are pirates! Bandits!"
"Honor?"
Lysa let out a sneer.
"Can honor block dragonfire, Lord Royce?"
"When the enemy has put a knife to your neck, do you still care if the one handing you a weapon is a knight or a butcher?"
She walked to the center of the hall, her voice full of seduction.
"The fleet of the Iron Islands is the strongest naval force in the Seven Kingdoms!"
"They crave war, crave wealth!"
"I have promised them, as long as they can cut off the sea supply of Lynn's Gift and harass the west coast of the North!"
"Then after the war, all the wealth of the west coast of the North, including Bear Island, will belong to them!"
"They will effectively rule the west coast!"
"The Iron Fleet will divide into two groups, one pouncing straight on Bear Island from Sea Dragon Point, letting that group of weak she-bears of House Mormont know the power of the Ironborn!"
"This can give pressure in the west."
"The other group will lock the throat of the maritime passage east of the Gift tightly!"
"Lynn's army, those so-called wildlings of his, what will they eat? What will they drink?"
"Without supplies, without reinforcements, they can only starve and freeze to death in the ice and snow!"
"And our Vale knights don't even need to attack actively."
"We just need to build a defense line in the south, set up strong crossbows to withstand the impact of the dragon and their coalition forces, wait at our ease, and we can easily starve them to death in the cold and bitter North!"
Lysa's plan was insidious, yet incredibly effective.
At the juncture of life and death, Lysa, a woman with almost zero political ability, burst out with amazing wisdom.
Counting on the North to farm and harvest grain themselves was tantamount to a fool's dream.
Everyone lowered their heads.
Leaving aside what Lysa was hiding and whether those rumors about Petyr were true, just getting involved with the Iron Islands meant their war wasn't on the side of justice.
An unjust cause finds scant support.
Looking at the varied expressions of the crowd, Lysa's eyes turned cold.
She had said this much, yet these old stubborn mules still disagreed.
If they disagreed, she had only a dead end!
They must agree!
Persuasion alone was useless.
Sometimes, blood was more persuasive than anything.
Then, start the surgery with the surrenderists first.
Lysa cast her gaze faintly toward "Bronze Yohn" Royce, who had been singing a different tune from her.
---
Riverrun.
The Tumblestone and the Red Fork met here, surging endlessly.
This sturdy triangular castle was like an unsinkable stone ship, splitting the turbulent river water.
However, the life fire of the castle's master was like a candle in the wind.
In Lord Hoster Tully's bedroom, a sickly air lingered that even the strong smell of herbs couldn't dispel.
The once strong and majestic Warden of the Riverlands, whose word was law, was now just an old man lying in bed, tortured to skin and bones by illness.
Edmure Tully, his son and the future Lord of Riverrun, was pacing anxiously by the bed.
He inherited the red hair and blue eyes of House Tully, but far lacked his father's calmness and sharpness back in the day.
"Father, Lysa's letter..."
Edmure looked at the old man on the bed, his face written with hesitation.
"Read."
Lord Hoster's voice was mixed with phlegm.
Edmure cleared his throat and read out the letter full of crazy plans word by word.
With each sentence read, the chill in Lord Hoster's cloudy eyes grew heavier.
When Edmure read that Lysa had allied with the Iron Islands, the old man's withered body trembled violently, coughing fiercely.
"Cough... cough cough... Madwoman! Lysa, this madwoman!"
"What does she want to do?"
"Clearly she just needs to admit her mistake. With the friendship of the past, I have enough confidence to persuade Robert to spare her from the death penalty!"
"What on earth does she want to do!"
The Riverlands weren't the isolated Vale; he already knew about Petyr's matter and understood Lysa probably wanted revenge for him.
But Lysa wanting to spread the flames of war to the Riverlands was something he never dreamed of.
Lord Hoster struggled to sit up but was tortured back onto the bed by a burst of severe pain.
"Father!"
Edmure quickly stepped forward to support him.
"Get away!"
Hoster pushed his son away, astonishing anger bursting from his sunken eyes.
"Do you also think her plan is good?"
"Huh?"
"You want to go crazy with her too?"
"I... I just think, Lysa is our family after all... I should support her."
"After all, House Tully always puts family first, isn't that right, Father?"
Edmure's voice grew smaller and smaller.
"Family?"
Lord Hoster let out a desolate, miserable laugh.
"For that lowly villain named Baelish, she even murdered her own husband, and now she wants to drag the entire Riverlands to be buried with him!"
"She doesn't treat us as family at all!"
"She only treats House Tully as her burial objects!"
The old man panted heavily, chest heaving violently.
"The Riverlands, a land of four battles, no danger to defend!"
"What did our House Tully rely on to stand for hundreds of years?"
"Alliances! Judging the hour and sizing up the situation! Not accompanying a woman gone mad to die!"
"Who is Lynn?"
"He is the King's son-in-law! He has a dragon! Behind him stands the entire North!"
"That guy Ned Stark who sticks to his principles will absolutely not sit idly by while his bannerman is attacked!"
"Go to war with them? What do we fight with? With your face?"
"If we really fight, the alliance of our three houses will be completely ruined!"
"Do you think those people in the South will let go of such a good opportunity?"
Lord Hoster's angry scolding made Edmure's face alternate between red and white.
Truth be told, he was indeed tempted.
If he could help his sister establish an independent kingdom, then his status as an uncle would also rise with the tide.
He even calculated that after the war, he might get some land from the North.
Of course, and Lysa's Vale...
"I... I was counting on you to marry a daughter of House Lannister so we have a backer in the Westerlands!"
"But you, now thinking about how to poke a hornet's nest!"
"How did I..."
Lord Hoster got angrier the more he spoke, finally turning into a long sigh.
"Sigh..."
"Reply!"
His voice was full of fatigue.
"Tell her, the words of House Tully are 'Family, Duty, Honor'."
"And she, hasn't touched a single one of the three."
"Riverrun will not shed a drop of blood or lose a single person for her madness!"
"Let her give up this idea!"
"Also, show loyalty to Robert; make sure to do this well!"
---
Almost at the same time, another raven flew over the Neck and arrived at Winterfell.
Catelyn Tully unfolded the letter paper.
Looking at her sister's familiar handwriting, in those blue eyes, first came worry, then turned into deep disappointment and sorrow.
She understood her sister better than anyone.
Paranoid, selfish, easily carried away by emotions.
Her almost pathological infatuation with Petyr Baelish, Catelyn had seen since childhood.
Now, this infatuation finally pushed her and the entire Vale into the abyss of destruction.
Catelyn had no hesitation.
She wasn't that brainless fool Lysa.
Her love for Stark was no less than for House Tully!
She had always treated Petyr as a brother; Catelyn was equally sad about his death!
But she absolutely did not agree with Lysa's crazy ideas!
Petyr died because he murdered Lord Arryn; he failed to win the trial by combat, the Seven didn't stand on his side, and his death was his own fault!
Catelyn walked to the desk, the nib dipped in ink.
Her reply was shorter and colder than her father's.
[Lysa, put away your madness.]
[Ned is my husband, Stark is my family.]
[Winterfell stands with Lynn forever.]
[If you insist on making an enemy of the North.]
[Then next time, we will meet on the battlefield.]
[At that time, I will remember no sisterly affection between us!]
She finished writing, didn't even look again, sealed the letter, and handed it to Maester Luwin waiting aside.
When that black raven disappeared into the grey horizon, Catelyn felt a burst of weakness.
Holding the windowsill, looking at the vast snowy plain outside, her eyes reddened involuntarily.
She slowly knelt on the ground, covering her face and weeping bitterly.
---
The Eyrie.
When two strongly worded rejection letters lay before Lysa Arryn, the confidence and composure on her face collapsed completely.
"No... impossible..."
She murmured to herself, looking at those two thin sheets of paper over and over.
Her father's resoluteness, her sister's incomprehension, like two loud slaps, slapped her face ruthlessly, smashing all her fantasies.
How dare they?
How dare they refuse me?!
I am his daughter! Her sister!
A rage of betrayal instantly drowned her reason!
"Ah——!"
Lysa let out a miserable scream; she swept everything on the table to the floor.
Gold goblets, silver plates rolled and collided on the ground, making harsh noises.
"Traitors! All traitors!"
Like a trapped beast, she roared madly in the room.
"Old immortal! Do you think you are still the master of Riverrun? You should have died long ago! Why don't you die yet!"
"If you don't help me, your daughter will die!"
"I will be torn apart by Robert!"
Lysa cursed her father viciously.
"And you, Catelyn!"
"For a Stark, for an outsider, you actually want to face me with swords?"
"Good! Very good!"
The huge commotion alarmed the guards outside the door, and also alarmed the Vale nobles who had just sworn allegiance.
Standing outside the door, listening to the crazy curses coming from inside, they looked at each other, the blood draining from their faces bit by bit.
They seemed... to have really boarded a pirate ship.
"Bronze Yohn" Royce was even ready to defect to Robert.
He didn't need to die with Lysa.
Lysa's anger vented for a full quarter of an hour before gradually subsiding.
She stood in the center of the mess, chest heaving violently.
On that twisted face, only a madness close to destruction remained.
Before the war started, she had already lost the most important battle.
Without the support of the Riverlands, without the insider in the North, she only had that pack of jackals from the Iron Islands who might bite back at any time.
What should she do?
Admit her failure to the nobles?
Then wait for them to mutiny, drive her off the throne, and hand her over to that drunkard Robert for punishment?
No!
Absolutely not!
She didn't want to die yet!
She hadn't avenged Petyr yet!
This battle must be fought!
Even facing everyone's pressure, it must be fought!
Whoever didn't submit, she would kill until they submitted!
A ruthless look flashed in Lysa Arryn's eyes.
She straightened up slowly, wiped the tears from her face, and readjusted her messy hair and robes.
When she opened the door again, that confident and arrogant smile was back on her face.
As if everything just now had never happened.
"Everyone,"
She looked at the nobles with varied expressions outside the door.
"My father and sister have agreed to my plan."
"They just need some time to gather the army."
This was absolutely a lie!
Just cursing in the room just now, she definitely hit a wall.
But at this moment, no one dared to question.
Whoever dared to speak, they would be pushed out the Moon Door on the spot, shattered to pieces!
But openly they could not resist Lysa; secretly, it wouldn't be up to Lysa anymore!
Lysa's gaze swept over their faces.
"Lady Waynwood, you are responsible for logistics and supplies. Within a month, I want to see enough grain and fodder to support an army of twenty thousand for three months!"
...
She issued orders one by one, methodically, as if everything was under control.
The nobles accepted orders and left.
Soon, only Lysa and her still finger-sucking, dim-witted son remained in the hall.
Lysa walked slowly back to the throne and sat down.
She looked at the bottomless sea of clouds outside the window; in those crazy eyes, only cold killing intent remained.
Father... Sister...
Since you refuse to help me.
Then don't blame me for being ruthless.
She leaned down, whispering in her son's ear with a devil-like tone.
"Little Robert, my sweet baby, want to go see Grandpa?"
"Grandpa has lots of delicious fish there..."