Jason Mallister and Stevron Frey led the procession of pall bearers carrying the open casket from Riverrun's Sept across the lower bailey to the inner harbor and down the water stairs to the waiting funeral boat held secure by old Ser Robin Ryger. Brynden's face appeared peaceful, one lip curling slightly in hint of a wry grin. His body, glad in heavy plate and adorned with his personal coat of arms of the Blackfish, lay atop a bed of fresh picked water lilies and fragrant, oil drenched branches. A banner, draped athwart his legs, caught the glimmer of torch light on the white emblem of the Tully House.
From atop the Water Gate Lohgun kept company with blind Willam, the brothers Glover - cripple kneed Galbart and fainting sickness prone Robett, one armed Theon, Tytos six finger Blackwood, the turncoat halfman, bow holding Edmure, and a gaggle of lordlings, knights, squires, and sundry Riverrun minions. Though the silent sisters had done their best, with every breath the wildling's keen senses smelled both the remnants of the wine used to preserve Brynden's corpse on the river journey up from the Trident and the corruption slowly eating away his old battle companion's insides.
Old Desmond Grell and young Lucas Blackwood followed Jason Mallister down into the waist high water. Medger Cerwyn, officially representing the absent Young Wolf, and Edmure's boon companion the dashing Hugo Vance trod behind the grizzled heir of the Twins into the becalmed harbor. The boat bobbed slightly as the casket settled into Brynden's final resting place.
"Raise!" shouted Utherydes Wayn, the Castle's long time steward, from the top of the water stairs and the heavy portcullis of the Water Gate began to rise with a loud creak, water dripping off the red rusted bars slowly raising out of the murk.
When the iron bars passed wholely inside the sandstone walls of the Water Gate, the septon gave a brief benediction asking the Stranger to accept the pure soul of one of the Father's and the Mother's children. The southerners bowed their heads as their priest spoke. Lohgun took the opportunity to glance about. Tytos Blackwood, a rare southern believer in the Old Gods, stood in respectful silence, eyes closed in contemplation. Tyrion Lannister rolled his eyes and then flashed the Badger a quick smirk upon being spotted. Edmure's throat wobbled as he swallowed nervously.
The prayer over, Ser Robin unslipped the knot to the boat. The six pall bearers cried "Farewell!" in unison and shoved the slender river craft toward the gap in the wall. The boat slid smoothly atop the water, passing out of the lit manmade harbor into the night and the Tumblestone. The swiftly passing current snatched at the boat, briefly swirling it into an eddy, until Brynden broke free, as he was wont to do in life, to make his last journey.
When the boat drew even with the triangular keep, where Lady Catelyn kept the mortally ill Lord Hoster company on the balcony of his solar, Edmure softly exhaled, "Now." The Blackfish's nephew plucked an arrow out of a quiver propped against the battlement and fit it on the string of his bow. A squire held forth a torch and the Heir to Riverrun ignited the specially constructed head of the bolt.
Twang.
The blazing shaft flew into the night air. As it reached its zenith, a light breeze blew past.
"Others," Edmure muttered and quickly snatched up another arrow.
The burning projectile splashed into the Tumblestone five feet from the hull of the funeral boat.
Edmure pulled back, waited for the squire to lit the shaft, aimed with a tremble, and released.
Twang.
The current of the Tumblestone now clashed against and merged with the Red Fork, causing the river craft to shiver and rock.
The flaming arrow arced through the darkness, plunging toward the murk.
"A-a-a-a-a-a-a-ahhhhhh," Edmure hummed unconsciously to himself.
Thunk.
The point buried into a plank on the stern. Fire flickered off the shaft on to the boat. The funeral pyre lit.
WOOSH!
"Woosh!" Edmure exhaled.
A bonfire beat back the darkness.
Lohgun blinked at the sudden brightness. Tears sparkled on his cheeks.
The next morning brought the tenth day since the Battle of the Trident and the second day since the galley had returned the party of Lords, wounded, and prisoners to Riverrun. Though Tywin Lannister yet lived and still held the north bank of the Ruby Ford with the rump third of his army, word had flown swiftly on black wings through the Riverlands of the great Stark-Tully victory over the marauding Westerlanders, bringing a new tide of banners reaffirming their undying fealty to House Tully. Edmure, thankfully, exhibited a heavy hand with any late arriving lordling who dared show the gall to complain that the Old Lion's defeat hadn't been complete; "if only I'd been there to show you how it's properly done". Lady Catelyn's brother understood the Northmen, after marching over a thousand miles and fighting three major battles, were simply too spent to try and force the Lannister fortifications. Lohgun watched as Edmure worked relentlessly to ensure a steady supply of food, medical assistance, gear, new horse flesh, and reinforcements were directed, mostly by boat, to Robb camped on the south bank of the ford.
The rest of the devastated Riverlands needed the red haired man's attention too. With the sparse mounts available, patrols went southward to sweep out any stray bands of marauding Westerlanders or bandits trying to take advantage of all the chaos. Reports also came in from Lords Vance and Piper as they kept an eye on Golden Tooth and tried to restore order in the lands between the Tumblestone and the Red Fork. A raven even came in from Janos Bracken stating his force, half a thousand strong, had arrived in Tumbler's Falls and were preparing to strike across the border into the Westerlands to raid the Gold Road. Each message brought a plea that Riverrun provide the asker with more men, horses, and war material.
Maester Vyman, when not tending to Lord Hoster's pains, worked with Lady Catelyn to send birds with carefully worded messages of the Young Wolf's victory, each one crafted to sow trouble one way or another for the Lannisters, to King's Landing, the Eyrie, Dragonstone, Storm's End, and Highgarden. Cat also sent one specifically to Winterfell to reassure Bran and Rickon. A hundred notices flew to Casterly Rock, Crakehall, Kayce, Golden Tooth, Silverhill, and scores of halls small and large throughout the Westerlands; notifying each locale of which husband, father, son, brother, uncle, nephew, or cousin now enjoyed the comforts of a Riverland cell.
Lohgun, feeling restless, left Edmure and his busy aides in the Great Hall and went to spend time with Willam. When his friend needed rest, the wildling visited with the noble prisoners; listening to the Strongboar's, Lord Lefford's, Lord Kenning's, and others' viewpoints off the recent fought battle. From the Strongboar's uncle, Ser Burton Crakehall, he learned how Addam Marbrand delivered the mortal blow to the Blackfish. Saddened more than he realized, the Badger sought out the company of the Young Wolf's newest 'ally,' Tyrion Lannister.
Lohgun nodded at the two Tully men-at-arms standing duty outside the modest sized suite, appropriate to the halfman's stature granted as an honored guest, and pushed the door open.
Immediately, from a chair near the door, the dour, perpetually stubble faced sellsword cum guard stopped honing a dagger to blurt, "No further, scum."
"Ho, Badger!" the halfman called out cheerfully, perched atop a bed and spying the wildling over the top of a book overfilling his lap. He set the tome down. "To what do I owe this privilege?"
"I thought you might enjoy a drink." Lohgun declared.
Tyrion smiled. "Always." He reached over to the table beside the bed and lifted a goblet, sloshing it gently to show he was already endowed with sufficient wine.
Lohgun grunted noncommittally.
The halfman's eyebrows rose in evaluation. "Perhaps you might enjoy a drink? Bronn, go for a stroll. And don't kill anyone while you're at it."
The lean, dangerous looking man scowled, but put away is blade and departed.
"An interesting nursemaid you have."
"Yes, he's proven useful, but not much for conversation. Now look about, there's probably a flagon and a spare glass about."
Lohgun rummaged about and soon found a sour Dornish red. Upon returning with a filled cup, he looked at the open pages of Tyrion's book, filled with diagrams of curves, dotted lines, and numbers. He bobbed his head, "What's that?"
"A treatise on optics."
The wildling looked at him blankly.
The halfman sighed. "For the shaping of glass to make lenses. Both for seeing at a distance and for reading. You do know how to read, don't you?"
"Some," the Badger grunted. "In Castle Black, Maester Aemon first taught me letters."
"Yes, yes he did," Tyrion said softly. "You're really in a mood; I don't understand it, truly. The Young Wolf is winning this war of vengeance for his father. Soon enough Joffrey's head will likely adorn a spike. And then minstrels will write songs of how the mighty Badger tumbled down the Mountain and freed the Seven Kingdoms from the tyranny of the hells spawned Lannisters. Warm southern women will swoon over you, offering up their favors until you tire of them and return to the frigid fastness of the dull, dull north. What could be … nicer?"
Snickt!
The Badger poked a claw into the halfman's neck, nicking him. "You pissed on Brynden. His funeral was nothing but a joke to you. If I slew you here, who would mourn for you Lannister? Who?" he growled. To his merit, the honored guest didn't blink or squirm from the wildling's sudden assault.
"Thousands die every day, usually without …" and here the halfman fluttered his fingers in exaggeration, "so much accompanying … drama. Why perform a mummers' pageant for one man's death, like it's a mystery or he was more special than the next corpse. All men are mortal," Tyrion said plainly. Then the halfman paused a moment, mismatched eyes focusing intently on the wildling's face for a second before continuing, "Well … most men."
"You have a smooth tongue, Lannister."
"Many a whore has claimed so, but seldom in the way you mean."
A chuckle forced its way out of Lohgun's throat. He pulled back his claw and sheathed it.
Tyrion dabbed at the dot of blood on his throat, smiled, and then continued, "Whore's are the one thing Riverrun appears to lack, sorry to say. Though Lady Stark's opinion of me is low enough best I keep my cock to myself for now." He wiggled his eyebrows and held up his open left hand. "Just you and me tonight love."
The Badger's hoarse chortle turned into a full throated laugh.
"Speaking of Lady Catelyn, Badger, while I believe my speech to her yesterday may, may have convinced her I played no part in the attempt on poor Bran's life, you really must try and convince her ladyship to let me accompany you back to her son's army."
Lohgun finally took a long draft of the sour red. "Good luck with that, she knows you're a sly and devious one. Robb does too. Why do you think he shipped you here the first chance he had?"
"Even so. When you march on King's Landing; and you will, for my father's army will inevitably dissolve at some point, my presence will help the … transition go … easier."
"How so?"
Tyrion shrugged. "Great men appear in great times. And I am a veritable giant among men."
Maester Vyman interrupted dinner in the Great Hall, passing a folded message to Lord Edmure. He grinned reading it and passed it quickly to Catelyn, who broke into a smile too. Edmure stood and pounded his mug on the table. The few men-at-arms stationed by the doors followed suit, smashing spear butts into the flagstone floor until all talk stopped, drowned out by the hammering.
"Word from Lord Stark," Edmure shouted, easily carrying the length of the long room. "The Westerland army has retreated from the Ruby Ford. The Knights of the Riverland and the North harass Tywin Lannister along the road toward Saltpans."
Cries of excitement and joy at the news echoed down the hall.
Alone in the crowd, Lohgun grimaced. Tyrion had had it right. The length of time since the Lannister host first arrived to find the Ruby Ford blocked for a raven to fly and a fleet of some sort to sail into the Bay of Crabs. Tyrion was bloody smart or a seer. Regardless, maybe he should champion the idea of bringing the halfman along to King's Landing. Robb would need all the help he could get, for Tyrion Lannister most likely intended to sail to the capital. At least he lacked a mighty army to bring with him.