Author's Note: This story is the second in a series, preceded by A Man of War.
Lyel Rivers hated standing the evening watch at the Twins. He swore that he could hear the laughter of his kinsman through the walls behind him. The rest of Lord Walder Frey's bastard children were busy enjoying food, women and ale in the western keep, while Lyel and two other men-at-arms guarded the gate, which led to the stone bridge across the Green Fork river. Lyel sighed with boredom as he leaned against his spear. Scarcely any travelers came through after sunset, especially after the Red Wedding. Why not simply close the bridge at night? Old Walder no longer needed to rely exclusively on the toll road, not with House Lannister watching his back. But here Lyel stood, standing an unnecessary watch on yet another dull night.
The faint glow of a lantern appeared down the road. Lyel snapped to attention at the sight of it. A lantern on the road meant travelers were approaching the Twins. The clopping of horse hooves and the rumbling of wagon wheels soon followed. Two wagons were coming up the road, one behind the other. Both were drawn by a pair of draft horses, and piloted by a lone driver. What were they doing on the roads so late at night?
Lyel stepped out ahead of the lead wagon, forcing the driver to halt his horses. He then walked up to the wagon's left side to address the driver. The stranger was wearing a dark cloak that concealed most of his clothing. His wide hood obscured much his face in shadow, except for his chin, which was bearded. The man reminded Lyel of a shady character he'd once played dice with at a roadside inn. He'd lost a fair amount of coin that day. The wagon's cargo, Lyel noticed, seemed like barrels covered by a tarp. What were these men transporting?
"What's your business, traveler?" Lyel inquired.
"We have a delivery from King's Landing," the stranger replied in an accent Lyel hadn't heard before.
"Where are you headed?"
"The Dreadfort."
"That's quite a long journey you've got ahead. The toll is ten dragons if you wish to cross the river."
The stranger drew a small pouch and tossed it to Lyel, who caught it with his free hand. After counting the gold, Lyel unlocked the gate and motioned for the travelers to continue. The wagons rumbled through the gate without their drivers looking back once. Lyel locked the gate behind them and returned to his post without a second thought. Three hours later, as the moon climbed highest in the sky, another Frey man-at-arms relieved Lyel from his watch. Grateful to be off-watch, Lyel returned to his chambers, emptied his bowels, removed his armor, and rolled into bed.
He had just shut his eyes when the explosion sounded.
Lyel rushed outside and onto the bridge. Many of his kin were already outside, wondering just what the matter was. Lyel answered that question the hard way, after nearly falling into the Green Fork. A man-at-arms holding a torch came up beside Lyel. Together they saw just what in all the seven hells was wrong.
"The bridge is gone!" someone exclaimed.
And indeed it was. One third of the bridge – the center portion - had collapsed into the river. Only the stone columns that once supported the roadway remained standing. House Frey had been robbed of its toll bridge. This bridge was the only crossing for hundreds of miles. Without it, House Frey no longer held sway over travelers crossing the Green Fork. The Twins had been reduced from an essential stronghold down to just another castle. Lord Walder was going to be furious. Lyel only hoped that Walder Frey wouldn't do to his own family what he did to the King in the North.
"Hey, what's that?" a woman's voice asked.
Lyel saw it too. It was a piece of parchment attached to a hook, shoved between the bricks. There was writing on it. Lyel removed the parchment from its holder and held the message out in front of him. The man-at-arms illuminated the parchment with his torch while Lyle read the message aloud.
"Dear House Frey, the North remembers, and so do the First Men. No amount of water can wash our brothers' blood from your hands. Assist your southern allies in any way, and expect further trouble. We are watching you. Know that winter is coming, and we are her harbinger. House Lannister cannot protect you, nor can the Seven, or the boy king on his Iron Throne. Sincerely, the Ferenese Republic."
Lyel tucked the parchment into his belt. Lord Walder would want to read it as soon as possible. He dreaded having to deliver the message.