Yield?
What else could they do?
Try to smash their heads against an ice sword wider than a door plank?
Ser Gerold Grafton, trembling, picked up his greatsword from the ground.
He didn't look at Lynn again. Instead, his gaze shifted to "Bronze Yohn" Royce.
In the Vale, the prestige of House Royce sometimes eclipsed even that of House Arryn. Bronze Yohn's attitude would directly determine the future of the entire Vale.
Yohn Royce slowly stood up.
He didn't look at the knights lying on the ground, nor did he pay attention to the expectant gazes of the surrounding nobles.
He just stared fixedly at Lynn, his sharp eyes churning with complex emotions.
Humiliation, anger, unwillingness.
But mostly, a sense of relief, as if he had finally figured something out.
He suddenly remembered a scene from over twenty years ago. A northern boy, standing right here in the Eyrie, solemnly asking him for sword lessons.
Ned Stark.
The man who valued honor more than his own life.
Yohn Royce had never understood why someone like Ned would support Lynn, a "King-Beyond-the-Wall" full of unknowns and wild variables.
Now, he thought he understood.
He turned to face all the Vale nobles, his voice booming like a bell.
"Did you all hear that?"
"Lord Jon Arryn was poisoned by that madwoman and her lowborn lover!"
"Lysa Arryn is unfit to be the Lady of the Vale!"
"She betrayed the honor of House Arryn, betrayed the entire Vale, and played us all for fools!"
His words hit the ground like stones, exploding in everyone's heart.
Some nobles who still held onto illusions lowered their heads completely.
If even Bronze Yohn said so, what was the point of struggling?
"Runestone and House Royce," Bronze Yohn tried to unbuckle his sword belt.
Only then did he realize awkwardly that his sword had already been crushed into dust. He could only kneel on one knee before Lynn.
"Offer our loyalty to you, Lord Lynn."
"From this day forth, we await your command!"
His kneeling was like the first domino falling.
"Gulltown and House Grafton offer our loyalty!"
"Redfort and House Redfort offer our loyalty!"
"Ironoaks and House Waynwood offer our loyalty!"
...
One by one, the most influential nobles of the Vale knelt on one knee, offering their swords and their allegiance.
Ser Marq Arryn let out a long sigh and knelt as well.
The tide had turned.
No.
It should be said: this was the best outcome for the Vale.
Rather than march to destruction with a madwoman, better to follow a strong leader who possessed god-like power and held deep ties with Ned Stark.
They could doubt Lynn, but they would never doubt Ned's judgment.
Lynn looked at the sea of kneeling figures before him without surprise.
When he chose to work under Ned, it was for the sake of Ned's reputation, which resonated throughout Westeros.
Now, the fruits were beginning to show.
Everything was under control.
He didn't move to help Bronze Yohn up. Instead, he said:
"Ser Nestor Royce should have arrived at the ruins of the Bloody Gate by now."
"I need you, Lord Yohn, to go there personally."
"Tell him the war between the Vale and the North is over."
"Have him and Mance Rayder coordinate the defense and the plan to sweep the Riverlands."
"Understood!"
Bronze Yohn nodded heavily.
He knew this was Lynn's first task for him, a test of his loyalty.
He had to execute it flawlessly.
...
The Ruins of the Bloody Gate.
The tension was thick enough to choke on.
Ser Nestor Royce's three thousand Vale knights were facing off against Mance Rayder's Wildling army.
But things were... weird.
The sworn enemies—Vale guards and Wildlings—were mixed together.
Some were swapping dried meat for daggers; others had their arms around each other, chatting away.
Ser Nestor Royce watched, his eyelid twitching violently.
What is happening?
He'd only been gone a few days, and his soldiers were already best friends with the enemy?
Is this a joke?
"Ronald!"
Nestor's roar made the commander of the Bloody Gate jump.
"Ser!"
Ronald scrambled over.
"What in the Seven Hells is going on?!"
Nestor pointed a shaking finger at the soldiers fraternizing with the Wildlings, his beard trembling with rage.
Ronald opened his mouth, unsure where to start.
Could he say, "We had our worldview shattered by a single punch, and then we were moved by their King's benevolence?"
Even he wouldn't believe that if he said it out loud.
Just then, Mance Rayder walked out from the Wildling ranks alone.
"Ser Nestor Royce. I've heard much of you."
Mance's demeanor was calm, showing no nervousness despite facing three thousand elite knights.
"I am Mance Rayder."
"Former leader of these... free folk."
Nestor's gaze was sharp as a knife, fixed on him.
"Was it you who ordered the destruction of the Bloody Gate?"
"No."
Mance shook his head, a helpless, wry smile on his face.
"That was just an accident."
"A... tiny accident."
He pointed to the ruins, then to the Wildlings still trading with the Vale soldiers.
"Of course, you don't have to believe me."
"But, Ser, I feel I must remind you."
"Do you think if we really wanted a war..."
"Would there be a single living soul left standing here right now?"
Nestor fell silent.
True.
The enemy had the power to destroy the Bloody Gate with one punch.
And that line of terrifying armored giants, giant knights, giant archers...
If they really wanted to kill, his three thousand knights probably wouldn't be enough to pick the giants' teeth.
Just a volley from those giant archers could wipe out a huge chunk of his men.
But they hadn't.
They just broke the door and backed off.
They even started doing business with his soldiers?
What kind of enemy was this?
"What... what do you people want?"
Nestor asked the exact same question Ronald had.
"We don't want anything."
Mance spread his hands.
"It is our King, Lord Lynn, who does not wish to be enemies with the Vale."
"His true enemy lies beyond the Wall."
"Everything he has done is just to make you understand: Lysa Arryn isn't worth dying for."
Just as Nestor was battling with himself internally, torn by indecision...
A lone rider galloped down the mountain path, dust trailing behind him.
The knight held a banner high, emblazoned with bronze runes.
The banner of House Royce!
It was Bronze Yohn!
His cousin, the Lord of Runestone, the head of House Royce!
Yohn Royce dismounted and strode over.
He didn't even look at the Wildlings, walking straight up to Nestor.
"Nestor."
Nestor bowed, his mind full of questions.
"Cousin, how can you be..."
"I come on Lord Lynn's orders."
Bronze Yohn's words struck Nestor like lightning.
Lord Lynn?
Does that mean the Eyrie is gone too?
How did Lynn do it?
"The Eyrie has sworn allegiance to Lord Lynn."
"The war for the Vale is over."
Bronze Yohn's voice wasn't loud, but every word hit Nestor's heart like a warhammer.
It was true.
The Eyrie was gone.
Over?
Just like that?
He'd only been out for a few days, and his home was gone?
It was all too sudden.
Before he could react, Bronze Yohn turned to Mance Rayder.
"Leader Mance Rayder, Lord Lynn sends his regards."
"He says Tormund did a good job. Enough wine for the month."
"But, if he dares to act on his own again, Lynn will turn him into an Unsullied and ship him straight to Slaver's Bay."
Mance: "..."
He glanced at the red-bearded Wildling nearby, who was looking around guiltily, and the corner of his mouth twitched.
Lord Lynn... really had a unique style of management.
"Lord Lynn commands that you and I will be jointly responsible for the defense of the eastern Vale."
"All Vale armies are to be reorganized immediately to coordinate with the Northern forces against threats from the South."
Bronze Yohn pulled out a parchment stamped with Lynn's personal seal and handed it to Nestor.
Nestor Royce took the letter numbly.
He looked at his cousin, at the refined Wildling leader, and at the soldiers who were practically already one army.
He finally understood.
From the moment Lynn's army stepped into the Neck, the outcome of this war had been decided.
The die was cast.
Trying to swim against the current now would only get his head smashed against the rocks.
...
Riverrun.
Lysa Arryn paced back and forth in the Great Hall, her face a mask of anxiety and malice.
It had been three days.
No news from the Bloody Gate.
What was that old fool Nestor doing?
Could he not even hold the Bloody Gate?
And that old corpse Walder Frey.
He agreed to eat up Robb Stark's forces, but he was quiet as the grave too.
"Useless! All of them are useless!"
She smashed a crystal goblet onto the floor, shards flying everywhere.
Just then, Maester Colemon stumbled in, his face devoid of color.
"My Lady! Disaster!"
"A letter... a letter from the Eyrie!"
"The Eyrie?"
Confusion flashed in Lysa's eyes, quickly replaced by wild joy.
"Did that savage Lynn get stopped by the Bloody Gate and forced to retreat?"
"No... no..."
The Maester's voice shook uncontrollably as he handed over the letter.
"It is... a letter written personally by Lord Lynn..."
"Lynn?"
Lysa snatched the paper and tore it open violently.
The message was simple.
Just one sentence.
"Your son misses you. Come back and visit."
Lysa froze.
Her mind went blank.
What did that mean?
Lynn... was in the Eyrie?
How could he be in the Eyrie?!
Shouldn't he be bleeding his head dry against the walls of the Bloody Gate?!
A thought terrifying enough to make her skin crawl began to grow in her mind.
"My Robert... my sweet son..."
Lysa's body began to shake violently.
Her face, twisted by paranoia, was instantly consumed by sheer terror.
Lynn had her son!
He was in the Eyrie, waiting for her to return!
Go back?
Going back meant walking into a trap!
She would die!
No!
She would never go back!
"Saddle a horse! Saddle my horse, now!"
Lysa shrieked, sounding like a cat with its tail stepped on.
"Where to, My Lady?" the guard asked, confused.
"To Walder Frey!"
A crazed light shone in Lysa's eyes.
Now, only the Riverlands could save her!