Sorrow permeated the air of Riverrun.
The funeral of Lord Hoster Tully was held according to the oldest traditions of the Riverlands.
House Tully were the rulers of the Riverlands; their power and lives originated from the Trident.
Therefore, water burial symbolized the deceased finally returning to and merging into the bloodline of this land.
Waves eventually return to flowing water.
Lord Hoster's body was placed on a small boat carved with trout totems.
His sword and shield from when he was alive were placed at the bow, drifting slowly away along the tributary of the Tumblestone.
On the riverbank, bannermen and knights of House Tully stood solemnly; black mourning clothes flapped loudly in the river wind.
Edmure Tully stood at the very front.
Now, his father was dead; he was the Lord of Riverrun.
This title was like a mountain, pressing on him almost to suffocation.
According to tradition, he would personally send his father off.
A squire handed over a longbow and an arrow with fletching soaked in oil.
Edmure took the bow and lit the arrowhead.
The dancing flames reflected in his blue eyes, identical to Lysa's, but his gaze was empty.
His father's boat had drifted to the middle of the river.
Everyone's eyes focused on him.
Edmure took a deep breath, drawing the bowstring.
Whoosh——
The arrow left the string.
It drew a crooked arc in the air, plunging into the river water more than ten meters away from the boat, making a slight hiss sound.
...
Dead silence on the riverbank.
Everyone looked at their noses, noses at their hearts, pretending not to have seen anything.
Edmure's face turned liver-colored instantly.
He felt hundreds of gazes behind him pricking his back like needles.
He gritted his teeth, almost snatching the second arrow from the squire's hand.
"Brother, don't rush."
Lysa had walked over at some point.
Dressed in black gauze, crying like a pear blossom bathed in rain, her voice carried just the right amount of concern and sorrow.
"Father is watching us from the sky; he will understand."
The more she said this, the angrier Edmure felt inside.
He drew the bow abruptly again; this time, he used all his strength.
Whoosh——
The arrow flew very high, very powerfully.
Then, it whistled over the top of his father's boat, landing on the farther opposite bank.
If the first time was a miss, the second time was pure embarrassment.
Suppressed coughs came from the crowd.
Edmure's head buzzed; he wished he could find a crack in the ground to crawl into.
He could even feel, not far away, his uncle famous for martial prowess, Brynden "Blackfish" Tully, casting a gaze that could freeze him into an ice block.
"I'm just too sad, can't control my strength well."
Edmure's hand trembled, about to take the third arrow.
"Enough."
An old and hard voice sounded behind him.
Brynden Tully couldn't stand it anymore; he walked straight over.
He didn't look at his nephew, just expressionlessly took the bow from his hand.
The Blackfish knight simply glanced at the direction the banner was fluttering, then without even aiming too much, just casually drew the bowstring.
Movements flowing like clouds and water, done in one breath.
Whoosh!
The fire arrow drew a perfect arc in the air.
Landing precisely on the firewood in the center of the boat.
Boom——
Flames rose instantly; orange tongues of fire greedily licked the hull.
Flames soon completely swallowed the body carrying half a lifetime of glory of House Tully.
Black smoke curled up, straight into the clouds.
Brynden didn't even look at Edmure once, threw the bow back to the squire, turned, and left.
That silent disdain made Edmure feel worse than any verbal abuse.
Notably, Bran might have inherited his poor archery skills from his Uncle Edmure.
Edmure stood on the spot, watching the burning boat drift further away, feeling his hands and feet cold.
Nominally, he was already the new master of Riverrun.
But there was not half a joy of becoming a lord in his heart, only a lingering confusion and doubt.
Did Father... really change his mind?
Before dying, did he really agree to Lysa's crazy plan?
Edmure asked himself over and over again.
In his mind, his father's words repeated over and over.
"The words of House Tully are 'Family, Duty, Honor'."
"And she, has none of the three."
"Riverrun will not shed a drop of blood or lose a single person for her madness!"
That resoluteness, that anger, still rang in his ears.
How could such an earth-shaking change happen in just a few days?
Edmure's gaze involuntarily cast toward that figure not far away crying her heart out.
His sister, Lysa Arryn.
She wore black mourning clothes, her body so thin it seemed a gust of wind could blow her down.
Leaning in the maid's arms, she cried almost to fainting.
That grief looked so real, so heartbreaking.
Simply enough to make the Seven weep!
But in Edmure's heart, it felt like a thorn was pricking him with dull pain.
He remembered the scene he saw when he rushed into his father's bedroom that day.
Lysa threw herself on Father, crying.
And Father had no breath left.
Everything was too fast, and too coincidental...
The funeral ended, and the crowd dispersed.
Lysa also notified Catelyn via letter to return to Riverrun as soon as possible.
As a daughter of House Tully, Catelyn had an obligation.
Whether for her father's death or Edmure inheriting the dukedom, she couldn't refuse to return to Riverrun.
Edmure returned to the study in the main keep alone.
This was where his father used to handle official business.
Now, it belonged to him.
Sitting in the chair his father once sat in, looking at the pile of parchment scrolls on the table, he felt an unprecedented pressure.
He didn't know if he could shoulder this burden, nor was he clear if he could reclaim the great power that had fallen into the hands of other lords for years due to Lord Hoster's serious illness.
"My Lord."
Maester Vyman walked in silently.
His face carried the same sorrow and fatigue as Edmure.
"My condolences, my Lord."
"Maester Vyman,"
Edmure looked up.
In those blue eyes identical to Lysa and Catelyn's, bloodshot and confusion filled.
"My father... when he left, were you present too?"
A trace of complex emotion flashed in Maester Vyman's cloudy eyes; he was silent for a moment, finally shaking his head.
"Lord Hoster didn't call me; he probably wanted to be alone with Lady Lysa for a while."
"But..."
Maester Vyman seemed to have made some decision.
From his wide maester's robe, he took out a letter sealed with wax.
"Lord Hoster gave me this letter the night before Lady Lysa arrived."
"He said he knew his physical condition, his days were numbered."
"If... if any accident happened to him, let me personally hand this letter to you the moment you become the master of Riverrun."
Edmure's heart skipped a beat violently.
He reached out a trembling hand and took that letter.
On the envelope, his father's once vigorous handwriting was gone, now only crooked scrawls.
He couldn't believe it; his father struggled even to move; what kind of willpower did he rely on to write this letter?
[To my son, the rightful heir of Riverrun, Edmure Tully]
Edmure tore open the wax seal and unfolded the letter.
The content of the letter wasn't full of angry curses and accusations against Lysa as he imagined.
It was just a father's last instructions to his son about to inherit the family business.
[My son, when you read this letter, I probably have already gone to see the ancestors of Riverrun.]
[Please do not grieve for me, nor cry for me; death is everyone's destination, I am not the Seven, I am no exception.]
[I know I have been strict with you since childhood, which made you lack confidence growing up, but from the moment you see this letter, you are the master of Riverrun, the Warden of the Riverlands; you must and have the obligation to shoulder all this.]
[This burden is heavy, I know. I never showed enough confidence in you; this is my fault, a failure as a father. I always compared you with your sisters, but forgot, you are the future of House Tully.]
[Edmure, remember our words.]
[Family. Our family is not just us flowing with Tully blood. It is every bannerman who swore allegiance to us inside and outside the walls of Riverrun, every farmer farming on our land, every fisherman fishing in our rivers.]
[Their safety is our safety.]
[Duty. Your duty is to protect them. Not to take them to fight a war with no chance of winning, not to bleed them dry for a mad woman's ambition.]
[The Riverlands is a land of four battles, no danger to defend. We have stood for hundreds of years not by brute courage, but by the wisdom of judging the hour and sizing up the situation.]
[Honor. True honor comes not from a vain victory, but from the firm determination to protect our people.]
[Do not let the banner of House Tully be stained with the blood of the innocent, nor with the blood of allies.]
[Lysa... she has been blinded by hatred and paranoia; she is a monster driven by desire. Do not believe a single word she says, but please treat her kindly; her life has been truly too bitter...]
[My son, go be a qualified lord. Love your people, keep your promises. This is my last expectation for you.]
[Love, Hoster]
The letter slipped from Edmure's hand.
He sat blankly in the chair, tears flowing silently.
This letter was Father's true last words!
What Lysa said was all false!
Father didn't agree at all!
Till death, he opposed this crazy war!
An anger of being deceived and a belated fear instantly swept through Edmure's whole body.
Lysa...
Not only did she anger Father to death, she wanted to drag the entire Riverlands to be buried with her!
This madwoman!
Edmure stood up abruptly.
He wanted to find Lysa; he wanted to expose her lies to her face!
He wanted to tell everyone Riverrun would never shed a drop of blood for her madness!
Just as he prepared to rush out of the study, the door was pushed open gently.
Lysa walked in.
She had changed out of her mourning clothes, wearing a pale blue dress.
The tear stains on her face had been wiped dry.
Although still haggard, in those blue eyes, there was a calmness after rain.
"Brother."
Her voice was soft, gentle.
Like when she called him in the gardens of Riverrun when they were little.
All of Edmure's anger, at this moment, miraculously stuck in his throat.
Looking at Lysa before him, looking at this face connected to him by blood.
For a moment, he didn't know how to speak.
"I just... thought a lot."
Lysa walked to the window, looking at the endlessly flowing Tumblestone outside.
"Father's death woke me up."
Her voice carried a trace of self-mockery, a trace of regret.
"Perhaps... perhaps I was really wrong."
"I shouldn't have been carried away by hatred, shouldn't have dragged everyone into this disaster."
Edmure was stunned.
He couldn't believe his ears.
Lysa... was this... repenting?
"I just... loved Petyr too much."
Lysa turned around, looking at Edmure; those beautiful blue eyes shimmered with tears.
"Now, I have nothing."
"Father is gone, Petyr is gone too... I only have you and little Robert left."
Her voice choked.
"Edmure, let's... let's go out for a walk?"
"Just like when we were little, riding horses, taking a stroll along the Tumblestone."
"It's too oppressive here; I can barely breathe."
She reached out to Edmure, a trace of pleading in her eyes.
"Just the two of us, okay?"
Edmure looked at her, at the fragility and dependence in her eyes.
His suspicion and anger began to waver at this moment.
Perhaps... Father's death really woke her up?
Perhaps, she just needed time, needed family comfort?
He was Lysa's brother after all, her only relative in this world besides her son.
Father also asked him to treat her kindly.
In that case.
"Okay."
Edmure heard his own voice.
He stepped forward, holding Lysa's cold hand, and the two walked out of the room together.
Riverrun's drawbridge lowered slowly.
Two fine horses galloped out of the castle one after another.
Edmure deliberately slowed his horse, riding side by side with Lysa.
The afternoon sun was warm and pleasant; the river breeze blew gently, dispersing the oppressive sorrow in the castle.
Edmure's mood relaxed a lot too.
He looked at Lysa beside him.
She rode quietly on the horse; her face lacked that hysterical madness, possessing only an almost peaceful sadness.
Maybe, everything would really get better.
Edmure firmly believed this.
After all, they were both Tullys; the family words were engraved in every Tully's bones!
They passed through a dense forest, arriving at an open river beach.
The river water became gentle here, clear enough to see the bottom, even colorful pebbles underwater.
"Right here."
Lysa suddenly reined in her horse and dismounted.
"When we were little, you liked skipping stones here the most."
She looked at Edmure, a nostalgic smile appearing on her face.
Edmure smiled too.
He also dismounted, walked to the river, and picked up a flat stone.
Mimicking the way in his memory, he threw the stone forcefully.
The stone skipped lightly on the water surface.
One, two, three, four...
Finally sinking to the bottom.
"Skills have regressed, Brother."
Lysa's laughter was crisp as a silver bell.
Edmure laughed along too.
That long-lost kinship seemed to have returned between them.
Just then, the sound of rapid hoofbeats came from the forest behind them.
Edmure turned back instinctively.
A dozen knights wearing the blue and white armor of House Arryn rushed out of the forest.
They formed a semi-circle, surrounding them tightly on the river beach.
Leading them was the Vale knight "Bronze Yohn."
The smile on Edmure's face froze instantly.
"Lysa? This is..."
He turned his head abruptly to look at his sister, an ominous premonition welling up in his heart.
Lysa still stood on the spot.
The smile on her face hadn't changed at all.
Only in that smile, there was no longer half a warmth or nostalgia.
Leaving only a coldness and mockery that chilled Edmure to the bone.
"My foolish brother."
Lysa walked slowly towards him; every step seemed to tread on his heart.
"Did you really think a few tears could make me give up avenging Petyr?"
"Did you really think I would obediently listen to that old immortal's words, waiting for Robert's butcher knife to fall, stretching out my neck to be slaughtered?"
Edmure's brain buzzed, exploding completely.
She actually called Father an old immortal?
Edmure staggered back a step, looking at this completely strange woman before him in disbelief.
"You... you were faking it all?"
"What else?"
Lysa let out a chuckle; that laugh was sharp and harsh like a hawk.
"Did you think I really wanted to come here to skip stones with you, this waste?"
"Father refused to help me, and you refuse to help me too."
"It doesn't matter."
Her gaze stared fixedly at Edmure.
"From today on, Riverrun is mine."
"Ser Andar!"
Lysa's voice rose sharply, full of unquestionable command.
"Take the Lord of Riverrun!"
"If he dares resist, kill him on the spot!"
Edmure was stunned.
For the first time, he regretted not practicing combat skills properly.