"Work harder! The leaders must grasp the intricacies first. Next time, even if you have to break the charge in the middle, you won't be as disappointing as before. Try to coordinate the breaking and the reforming. I don't expect you to fight well, but I demand that you fight with coordination. For pure muscle, the Tullys still have a thousand knights."
Edmure instructed Grell and the other leaders, while his Leadership perk passively boosted their learning speed. The perk allowed the pupils to have their own moments of clarity and discovery. It was a bit like Edmure's own Learning perk, but instead of general comprehension, the men found their ideas orienting toward a shared goal.
Soon, the group reached Riverrun. The scene was truly magnificent—a sea of tents of different sizes, colors, and banners. If the patrol was a praiseworthy venture of an heir, then this was the raw declaration of a Lord's might. Hoster wasn't being subtle about his ambitions to make a show of force. Beyond sending a message to his in-laws about Catelyn's weight in his heart, this had another purpose. The guests—the Starks and the Arryns—would be partners in the upcoming rebellion. Hoster was using the current pretext to demonstrate his worth as an ally.
"Uncle!" Edmure called to Brynden, and both simply nodded, understanding the deep meaning behind the display. "Ladies, we will stay inside; it will be cramped for a while. Don't worry, and just maintain the pace."
Edmure yielded his leading position to Brynden and moved into the center of the formation. The men-at-arms soon began forming a wider protective diamond around the core. The shouts of the approaching host alerted the knights in the tents, who came out in preparation. Their squires started handing them weapons, checking armor and horses. The knights began gathering in groups, and soon a wall of steel was formed. The air was thick with tension. The guards on the battlements of the castle could see two forces maneuvering on the plains.
"With me!" Brynden shouted, and the men-at-arms picked up their pace. Brynden began blowing his signature horn, and the group erupted in cheers. The knights, unwilling to let mere youngsters put on the show, started shouting and cheering in return. They produced a cacophony from dozens of their own horns.
"Take the field!"
"Ride harder!"
"For House Tully!"
Multiple shouts rose from their ranks as a patchwork of teams started riding out. The knights clearly lacked the uniform coordination of the men-at-arms, but that became moot as years of experience kicked in. Without explicit orders, they matched a common pace and formed a vague wall.
When both groups reached a distance where they could see their opponents' faces, Brynden peeled off from the formation and rode harder. He mixed with the knights' group amidst their cheers and faced his original team.
"Men? What do you think of these boys? Could they survive a day on the field?"
"Not a chance!"
"They need training for a decade more before learning how not to flee!"
"Ha ha! I will show them how real men fight in the arena!"
The knights started jeering.
"Okay, okay, don't scare my nephew and his friends from the south. Let's return to the castle; I need to steal some ale for us from my stingy brother." Brynden reined them in while turning back toward the castle. The knights followed suit, while Grell simply watched, thinking that in a decade, his team could fight these cumbersome knights head-on in the field.
Both groups reached the castle, and Edmure came forward to address everyone. "A truly magnificent host! I am Edmure, son of your liege lord. I grew up listening to your deeds in wars from my uncle. You might have heard that the Trident's heir is an impulsive child. Let's put that claim to the test. I brought a few fine chainmails from the capital. Let's set up an arena, and the one who can beat me will win one. Now, let's not waste time; I will inform my father, and we will start this evening. But beware, these are but idle activities among us—our true target is the northern convoy. It contains names from legend, so let's not make a poor display before them."
Edmure and Brynden escorted the guests inside while the knights and men-at-arms went to their tents. After settling them in, Edmure went to freshen up; he had been away for months. He noticed a few changes: the smithy was four times larger, the godswood was decorated, and the servants were even more numerous.
"Father!" Edmure rushed in and hugged Hoster in the study. He nodded to Catelyn, Vyman, and Elaena. "The trip had many surprises I can't wait to tell you about. I met a deity, killed a Faceless Man, fought with Lord Lannister, fought with Prince Oberyn, Uncle fought with Lord Dayne..."
"Wait, wait. Why is it all just fighting? Are you a noble or a drunken brawler?" Hoster chided playfully. "Now, gather your bearing, lest the world mock my upbringing during Catelyn's wedding."
"Ah, bummer! Well, now you owe the Bank of Myr a few thousand gold coins. That should count as a good thing, right?"
"Bastard!"
Edmure's open-handed spending was well-known to the castle. They had been forced to prepare a special place just to store the glass. This was followed by horses, sheep, a glassblowing facility, and a woolen textile workshop. Hoster was happy to see his son was such an industrious person but was worried that Riverrun could not hold his ambitions.
"Thank you for the gifts," Catelyn said. "And thank you for rescuing Uncle. I am glad that you could arrive before my wedding."
"Don't mention it, Sister. Plus, you won't be leaving us anytime soon. I estimate you'll stay with us for two to three years to come."
"She can stay with us forever. If need be, I'll confine Eddard in these walls," Hoster butted in. "Now, get your ass working; you have two days to get accepted by my bannermen. They are not the green boys you can beat in place. Leave; I need to talk with Brynden. You too are not getting any younger; I need to find you a match."
"Your heir obeys!" Edmure made a theatrical bow while gesturing for Catelyn and Elaena to follow him. He had written plenty of books, and he hadn't talked with them for a while. He had an inkling that Hoster was hiding something from him, but Edmure figured it wouldn't be that important Thinking, 'You're wrong, Father; I can beat the knights into shape, too.'