Riverrun
"I'm glad you're alright, but what happened? Why did the Leffords attack so suddenly?" Catelyn asked Hoster. Usually, she was privy to everything occurring within the castle, but yesterday's skirmish had been entirely unexpected. House Lefford, the Lords of the Golden Tooth and vassals to the West, had led over a hundred knights in a sudden assault. Without her knowledge, Hoster had pre-emptively mobilized a large force, as if he had known something would spark in the south. The clash ended in a decisive Tully victory; Hoster himself had injured Leo Lefford, forcing the invaders into a retreat.
"It's Edmure," Hoster replied. "It was his plan to provoke hostilities with the West. The Lannister boy gave him a perfect excuse. Now, with this attack, we can openly field and train more men. The Iron Throne will let the situation simmer for a year before intervening, but by then, Westeros will be in open rebellion, and we will be in possession of a force that is already deployed."
"But is it wise? What if things don't pan out exactly as Edmure insists?"
"Of course they won't; that's life. I am not merely some follower of his, so I've been tweaking his plans behind his back. Your brother, on the other hand, pays more attention to whether the cart wheels are greased than following up on the broader strokes of his own schemes."
"But two leaders dragging the realm in different directions—isn't that folly?"
"It is one leader and an heir. He can muck about wherever he wants, but the Trident stays on the course I chart." Hoster, having let go of his worries for his children, seemed ready to leave his mark in his prime. "Furthermore, I know the politics of this land better than he does. He's just a boy; I've broken bread with three generations of nobles here."
"What changes specifically?" Catelyn asked. There was a glint in her eyes that Hoster's fatherly gaze failed to notice. Had he seen it, he might have recognized a politician preparing to betray both sides.
"His northern plan involves spreading rumors of an Ironborn invasion to keep our vassals occupied. Instead, I spread rumors in the Iron Islands about the wealth of Lannisport. The King of the Ironborn is just a leader of pirates with a fancy chair; he has to consider the opinions of others in their Kingsmoot." Hoster explained the situation regarding Quellon Greyjoy with gusto; he would not waste a single tear if Pyke were swallowed by the sea.
"Very well, but can our house afford to keep provoking the Lannisters like this? Won't they bring their entire army here?"
"Not really. Each realm is nominally under its Lord Paramount, but much depends on who sits on the throne. I cannot control what happens in the eastern part of the Trident, but if the Lannisters were to invade, the straightest path is through the Golden Tooth—the same as yesterday. However, the Golden Tooth is uncomfortably close to the Tully heartland. Everyone knows it, including the Iron Throne. They will never let a house that rules in the Targaryen name fall this easily. Even if the Lannisters can scrounge up 40,000 troops, at most they will send 5,000 this way or face the wrath of the Iron Throne."
"Then why are we rebelling? Isn't that removing the shelter from over our heads?"
"That is statecraft, my child. Our daily character—loyalty, friendship—does not count in that arena. You won't understand; you're far too kind and honorable for that."
Catelyn huffed, speaking with a playful grievance. "So you do think Edmure is a better heir than me. I thought you loved me most."
"You are my favorite child. If I ever had to follow a leader, I hope it would be someone as good as you. But as a Lord, I hope my heir would be like Edmure: unsentimental about most things, but not a beast. Someone who will avenge a long-standing grudge but isn't a petty person. Someone who won't dream of changing the world but will make our standing in it a little better.
We should stop for the day. I need to plan with Grell and rotate the guards on patrol. On the surface, we'll keep a few hundred in the field, but in reality, thousands will be trained in batches."
The Narrow Sea
Edmure was working on a pastime after growing bored during the voyage. It had been a day since they left King's Landing, and the boy was already tired of the journey. He had nagged Craghas about dismantling the ballista on board, and the Myrman had only agreed after witnessing a superhuman feat: Edmure had shot a ballista bolt out of the air using his new Goldenheart bow. Now, the sellsails on board routinely challenged Edmure to contests in exchange for the latest gossip.
For three days at sea, Edmure repeatedly dismantled, polished, tweaked, and reassembled all the ballistae. If not for the quartermaster's chagrin, he would have improved them even further. Still, he managed to increase their efficiency by 30% while reducing their weight to a third. His Craftsmanship perk worked wonders on modular devices like these. He figured that if nothing else, he could pay Brynden's ransom by repairing a Dornish catapult. Dorne was famed for its contraptions; after all, Queen Rhaenys and her dragon had been shot down by Dornishmen.
Sunspear
"The Royal Navy just passed through our waters. Are we supposed to stay quiet?" Prince Oberyn petitioned Prince Doran in council. "This time, they were suppressing the Stepstones pirates. What if the Targaryens decide to burn down our city next? Brother, let me contact Volantis; they'll lend us a few of their ships. In return, we would have to house their warriors, but in a decade, we'll have built our own navy and can kick them out. We are the Martells: Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken."
"And what if the Targaryens treat this as a declaration of secession?" Doran countered. "Every new king needs an example; what if Rhaegar spills our blood to show just how capable he is?" Doran also wanted to act, but doing so alone was suicidal. Dorne stood isolated within the Seven Kingdoms, and an alliance with Essos would not tilt the balance on its own. "But we won't sit idly. Contact Volantis, Myr, and Braavos. Spread the word that Dorne is looking for new trade opportunities. I've already contacted the Summer Isles; they'll send some settlers here."
"Good. I don't know what happened to the Targaryen boy suddenly. If he shows fangs toward us, I'll have someone slip him some poison. Speaking of which, I heard the Tullys actually sent the boy here. He'll dock in a few hours. Should we arrest him?"
"No," Doran replied. "I will host him as befits the heir of a Great House. Whether he survives the feast is another matter."