The Great Hall was awash with blood.
The wails and pleas of the Freys gradually gave way to deathly silence.
Nine black-robed White Walkers moved among the corpses, turning them over one by one, checking for any signs of life.
The Tully bannermen stood on the other side of the hall.
Looking at this hellish scene, many felt their stomachs churn.
But in the eyes of most, a strange light flickered—a mix of fear and greed.
Fear, stemming from Lynn's god-like, unpredictable methods and those nine guards who seemed to be death incarnate.
Greed, because of the promise Lynn had just made.
The Frey fortune, the lands of the Twins...
This was a piece of meat fat enough to make any wolf in the Riverlands willingly sell their life to Lynn.
Everyone here was sharp.
Lord Hoster Tully had been bedridden for years, causing power to slip away and fracture the Riverlands' strength. Every bannerman had harbored thoughts they shouldn't have had.
Want me to fight for you without benefit?
What are you dreaming about?
But the condition Lynn threw out hit them right where they were weakest.
Of course, this decision came after careful deliberation by Lynn.
You have to look at the long game.
Don't be blinded by immediate, petty profits.
The Frey wealth was far less than the wealth of the entire Riverlands.
Coincidentally, Lynn was after the entire Riverlands.
So, he had to make his "eating" look good.
Besides, dividing the wealth wasn't just for the Riverlords. His own people would get a share too.
Wildlings, Northern bannermen—they risked their lives following him; they couldn't go home empty-handed, right?
In reality, he still took the lion's share.
What Lynn needed to do now was stabilize the Riverlands.
Systematically purging dissent was convenient, but bad for taking over.
Subordinates would inevitably have their own little schemes, maybe even secret moves.
Sure, Lynn had Greensight and could ignore plots, but it was still a hassle.
Better to stabilize the situation first, then settle accounts later.
"Lord Lynn."
Edmure Tully walked over.
He looked at the pile of corpses in the center of the hall, dragged there by the White Walkers like dead dogs.
Among them were his "father-in-law," his "brothers-in-law," and all those "relatives" who had just been smiling at him.
But there was not a shred of pity in his heart, only a twisted pleasure of vengeance.
He turned, his gaze sharp as a knife, landing on the trembling figure in the corner of the hall.
Roslin Frey.
Pure, fragile, stunning...
Her white wedding dress was now splattered with blood.
That face, originally so beautiful and delicate it would make any man feel protective, was now etched with extreme terror and despair.
She curled up in the corner, making meaningless whimpering noises, like a small animal scared out of its wits.
A flash of undisguised disgust crossed Edmure's eyes.
He hated!
He hated everyone named Frey!
He walked toward that corner step by step.
Every footfall seemed to stomp on Roslin's heart.
"Edmure..."
The Blackfish wanted to intervene but was stopped by a cold look from Edmure.
"Uncle, this is my business."
Brynden wanted to say something.
But considering Edmure was now the Lord, he couldn't undermine him in front of all the bannermen.
He swallowed his words.
Edmure reached Roslin and looked down at her.
The woman who had become his wife hours ago.
The woman who almost made him a sinner against his own house.
"No... please..."
Roslin saw the cold hatred in his eyes and shrank back in fear.
Until her back hit the cold stone wall, with nowhere left to retreat.
"I... I didn't know anything... my father's plan... I really didn't know..."
She cried, begged, tried to defend herself.
"Shut up!"
Edmure roared, cutting off her sobs.
He squatted down, grabbed Roslin's delicate chin, and forced her to look at him.
"You didn't know?"
Edmure's voice sounded like it was squeezed through his teeth.
"You didn't know your father was going to slaughter my family at the wedding?"
"You didn't know the wine was poisoned when you toasted me?"
Every question smashed into Roslin's heart.
She wanted to shake her head, to explain.
But under the gaze of Edmure's bloodshot eyes, she couldn't say a word.
Maybe she truly didn't know the whole plan.
But she knew something was wrong with this wedding.
She had seen her father and Black Walder whispering in secret.
She had heard the muttering behind closed doors.
She just chose silence. Chose obedience.
Because she was a daughter of House Frey.
Her fate was never her own.
"See? You admit it by silence."
Edmure smiled, a look uglier than crying.
He let go and stood up.
"This is what you deserve."
He wiped his fingers hard, as if he had touched something filthy.
He turned to face everyone in the hall, using all his strength to announce loudly:
"I, Edmure Tully, Lord of Riverrun, hereby declare!"
"This marriage between me and Roslin Frey was conducted under coercion and deceit!"
"It violates the will of the Seven and stains the honor of House Tully!"
"From this moment, this marriage is void!"
"This woman is not my wife. She is just a Frey!"
"She should meet the same end as her pig-dog family!"
Edmure practically roared the last sentence.
He drew his sword, pointing the tip straight at the collapsed Roslin!
The hall went silent.
No Tully bannerman spoke for Roslin.
In their eyes, Edmure was right.
Frey blood must be drained!
Not one left!
"No! Please! Lord Edmure!"
Roslin broke down completely.
She scrambled to Edmure's feet, hugging his legs tightly.
"Please, for the sake of... for the sake of..."
She wanted to say, for the sake of our marriage.
But she knew that would only make him angrier.
She looked up, her tear-streaked face full of pleading.
However, all she saw in Edmure's eyes was deeper contempt and disgust.
"Get off!"
Edmure kicked her away.
Roslin slammed into the stone pillar with a thud.
Edmure raised his sword and swung it down at her neck without hesitation!
Roslin closed her eyes, waiting for death.
However, the expected pain didn't come.
CLANG—!
A crisp sound of metal on metal.
Edmure's sword was deflected by a massive force, numbing his hand and nearly making him drop the weapon.
He looked up in shock.
Lynn was standing in front of him.
Just now, Lynn had used two fingers, radiating cold, to casually flick away his lethal strike.
"Lord Lynn?"
Edmure looked at him, confused.
"Lord Edmure, stop."
"Your vengeance is taken."
"But she..."
"She's just a woman who can hardly be called a warrior. The real threat lies with the Frey men."
Lynn interrupted him.
"These women, treated like cargo by Walder, are just pitiable creatures."
"Their hatred for Walder is no less than yours."
"Kill all the Frey men, and within three generations, the name Frey will vanish completely."
"Killing her, a defenseless woman, is meaningless and will only tarnish your reputation."
"But she is a Frey!"
Edmure insisted stubbornly.
"Frey blood runs in her veins!"
"So what?"
Lynn's gaze finally fell on Roslin.
He looked at her face, stained with dust and tears, and the ash-grey despair in her eyes.
Lynn walked slowly to her and squatted down.
Roslin trembled violently.
She didn't know what this man, who held everyone's fate in his hands, wanted to do with her.
Lynn didn't speak. He reached out and used his sleeve to gently wipe the dirt from her face.
Then he held her chin, exposing her face clearly to his view.
This sudden action stunned everyone.
Including Edmure, and Roslin herself.
"Indeed a beauty."
Lynn's voice sounded like he was appraising an object.
He stood up, turned to Edmure, a playful curve on his lips.
"Lord Edmure, what do you think is the greatest value of a beautiful woman?"
Edmure was stunned, not understanding why Lynn asked this.
Lynn didn't wait for an answer. He continued.
"It is alliance."
"A beautiful woman can be the strongest bond connecting two houses."
"Roslin was born to be such a tool."
"Of course," Lynn's tone shifted.
"She can also be a most pleasing trophy."
"Giving her to a meritorious subordinate can buy their undying loyalty."
"Or keeping her by your side can serve as a constant reminder of how your enemies were trampled underfoot."
All the Tully bannermen looked at Lynn with awe.
This man's way of thinking was completely beyond their comprehension.
Ruthless.
Truly ruthless.
Not only killing all the Frey men who dared resist, but also taking control of all their women.
Being targeted by such an enemy was the most terrifying thing in the world.
Their petty thoughts vanished instantly.
Dying themselves was one thing.
But thinking about their women falling into Lynn's hands after they died...
The taste of that... was unimaginable.
Just thinking about it was heart-wrenching pain.
Truly, too painful...
Looking at the scene before them, they submitted completely.
Edmure fell silent too.
"So," Lynn looked at Roslin again.
"Killing her is a waste."
"Her life belongs to me now."
"As my trophy, of course."
"Oh, and the other Frey daughters. They belong to me as well."
"Any objections, My Lord?"
With words like that, what could Edmure say?
He could only shake his head.
Lynn waved casually at a White Walker behind him.
The Walker walked stiffly to Roslin, bent down, and picked her up like a chick.
Ignoring her struggles, it carried her behind Lynn and stood silently like an emotionless statue.
"Lord Lynn... what... what do you plan to do with her?"
The Blackfish asked cautiously.
"I have my arrangements."
Lynn didn't explain further.
He looked at the cleared feast tables and the mess on the floor, speaking calmly.
"Clean this up."
"Hang the Frey corpses on the walls of Riverrun."
He turned and walked toward the exit of the Great Hall.
Behind him, nine White Walkers followed like shadows, one carrying an unconscious woman.
"Lord Edmure, remember our agreement."
"Three days from now, beneath the Twins."
"I want to see the silver trout of House Tully flying over the twin towers of House Frey."
Lynn's voice echoed in the empty, bloody hall for a long time.