Rickard XIV
The torches of Riverrun were dim as I strode through the castle's unusually empty corridors. Fenrir, I was sure, followed closely behind. Of that fact, of course, I could not be certain, what with my beast's propensity for melting into the shadows.
Artos, the man Edmure had sent to summon me lagged close behind, taking large gulps of air in between his short steps. I had not spared the man a glance on my way to his chambers; his very presence offended me. Could my uncle have not found a more suitable man for the job? Surely there were better candidates for the role of messenger than this balding, stout weasel of a man who I was sure would be beaten by Wyman Manderly in a foot race.
We kept walking, turning this way and that, attempting to not make any great noise so as to rouse the sleeping inhabitants of Riverrun. As we neared Edmure's chambers, I could hear what sounded like the beginnings of a row coming from within. Pausing just before the door, I waited just long enough for a guardsman to open it before marching in. Inside, my uncle was leaning over a desk, thrusting his finger at a sheaf of maps. Opposite him, Lord Jason Mallister stood with his arms crossed and scowling.
Both men turned to me as I entered, and I did not miss Lord Mallister's displeasure at my presence. Inside, I grimaced. Clearly, I had not done enough to protect my reputation from the gossipmongers that lurk in every great holding, and a few smaller ones besides. My uncle simply let out a sigh of relief.
"We've been expecting you, nephew. Have you heard?"
I crossed over to the far side of the room where a series of crystal decanters sat on a richly furnished oak table. Without so much as a glance at the drink, I poured a stiff measure for myself and threw it back; awaiting the warmth to course down my throat. A twinge of guilt rose in my gut at having broken my oath to my mother not some five minutes after having made it, but these were extenuating circumstances.
"Pour me one as well, would you."
I nodded in silent acquiescence and gestured in Lord Mallister's direction, asking him if he too wanted a drink. He declined.
Pouring another for myself, I handed a glass to Edmure and we toasted to our King's health, Lord Mallister joining in spirit. When our glasses were empty, they were set on the table, forgotten. We were now to work.
"Two days ago, Lord Blackwood's screening force noticed significant movement from Harrenhal. Suspecting that Lord Lannister was finally bestirring himself, he sent a rider to Riverrun informing us of the change. He arrived yesterday with the news. Today, some two hours ago, another rider appeared at the gates. The man was in some considerable distress and carried a note from Lord Blackwood. According to the note, a large Lannister army has left Harrenhal and is heading West. As per his earlier instructions, Lord Blackwood is currently harassing the Lannister force but reports that before long, they will be forced back to the crossing."
Lord Mallister's report was crisp and to the point. I appreciated him for it, for we had no use of pretensions in moments of crisis such as these. My uncle nodded along, his finger tracing the general advance of the Lannister army on the map before him.
"According to our scouts, and estimates based on the size of the Lannister army and the number of pack animals, we believe that their army should arrive at the crossing in some ten days."
6 days! My mind whirred with calculations; food stores, mobilisation, strategy. Each of the three represented unique problems of their own, and I could find no one course of action that resolved them together. Riverrun's food stores, before the outbreak of war, had been full thanks to the decade-long summer and the relative peace of King Robert's reign. Lord Tywin's actions across the Riverlands and the sheer amount of food consumed by a standing army meant that while the stores were certainly not emptied, they were lighter than we had hoped they would be. If that were not enough, my uncle's bleeding heart meant that the peasants camped outside of the walls received a portion of rations regularly, further stripping the army of its most needed resource, food. Concerning this action, I would have to suspend the food dole discretely, and only temporarily, while the army marched out to confront Lord Tywin.
Mobilisation would also be another issue. While the remainder of the Northern host, the original host having been divided between Lord Bolton's army and my brother's western force, sat in Riverrun, the majority of the Riverland banners were scattered across the Riverlands, dealing with some issue or another. Some were employed as harassers and scouts, such as Lord Blackwood, while others such as Marq Piper and Karyl Vance had been given leave by Edmure to defend their lands and borders. While considered a necessary action at that time, contacting all those Riverlords spread across the land would be difficult, and co-ordinating an organised resistance against Lord Tywin's doubly so.
Finally, the question of strategy weighed heavily on my mind. While good and logical thought dictated that Lord Tywin not be allowed to cross into the Westerlands, Robb's plan depended upon Tywin being forced to give chase, trapping him between our two armies. A decisive confrontation against the Lannister host somewhere in the Westerlands would be beneficial to us. That, of course, was contingent on our winning the engagement. I was forced to realise, however, that convincing Edmure to allow Lord Tywin to cross unmolested would be all but impossible. In a similar vein, not giving battle could have given Lord Tywin misgivings about his plan. In any case, we needed to engage Tywin at the crossing; it was simply a matter of determining the outcome beforehand.
Naturally, it had come to my attention that we had received no word from Robb's army in the West. Had he managed to cross into the Westerlands undetected? Had he been detected at the Golden Tooth and forced to settle into siege? Had he engaged Lord Stafford, and suffered a devastating reverse? We simply had no information, and for all I knew, allowing Tywin to cross would simply result in him falling on my brother's exhausted, and perhaps demoralised, troops.
My mind whirred, and the room was silent.
Lord Mallister's pointed cough drew me from my thoughts, and I looked up from the map to see the other men staring at me, concern written in their features.
"Are you... alright, nephew?"
I froze, my face burning in shame. My disappearing into my thoughts had been happening with increasing frequency, but never before such important men.
Smiling as if to dismiss the issue, I chuckled, "I really should not have skipped dinner, uncle. My stomach growls as though it were alive."
It was hardly a joke, but it served to lower the tension in the room, if only for a moment. Both men smiled weakly, and my uncle offered to have a servant bring me some food when we were done. I declined, politely. My appetite had been absent for days. The jocularity having been dispensed with, I turned to Lord Mallister.
"What sage advice have you to offer, my Lord?"
His mouth turned downward in a frown, and I cursed myself for a lack of control. He opened his mouth slowly, and spoke in much the same manner, formulating ideas as he spoke.
"It is my belief, Lord Edmure, that allowing the Lannister army to cross into the Westerlands would be a grave error, one which would give away the advantages we currently hold. If we allow Lord Tywin to re-enter his lands, we leave him free to raise more men and join with Ser Stafford's host, significantly boosting his numbers. We must also remember, my Lord, that our King, with the majority of our cavalry, is currently in the Westerlands. Permitting Lord Tywin to cross will simply allow him to defeat us piecemeal. No, Lord Tywin cannot be allowed to cross. We must defend the crossing."
His thoughts had been well thought out and considered, unlike my own. I wrestled with my brother's commands, and the strategic information available to us. As Lord Mallister had said, we had no knowledge of Robb's actions in the Westerlands, and I felt uneasy relying solely on my memories. Had many things not already changed? Why had Lord Tywin marched out so early? Was he not to wait until my brother had won at Oxcross? Where was Lord Stannis' proclamation of Joffrey's bastardy? Why had he not proclaimed himself King?
If so much had changed, could I truly still rely on memory alone, in the face of real fact?
My uncle had remained silent, and his fingers continued tracing lines across the map. I did not speak, not knowing what to say. Should I advocate for permitting Lord Tywin to cross? Should I do the rational thing and deny him entry to the Westerlands? Lord Mallister had raised some intelligent points, and I could not bring myself to truly argue with him. But, did the command of a King not transcend methodical strategy? Was I not his servant, duty-bound to carry out his every command?
I had not made my choice when Edmure mutely gestured at me to speak.
"My lords," I began, eyes roving over the map, "rational thought dictates that we bar Lord Tywin from entering the Westerlands. To allow him entry would, as Lord Mallister put it, be tantamount to us giving away our hard-earned advantages. As such, rational strategy dictates that we cannot allow him to cross."
Both men nodded in agreement, and my uncle began to speak when I continued.
"However, there is one crucial consideration. Before my brother departed for his Western adventure, he gave me one direct command, superseding all others." I took a deep breath then and rose to look at my uncle. "He told me that should Tywin Lannister attempt to cross, we were to allow him."
The room fell silent once more, punctuated only by my uncle's sudden laughter. He chuckled softly and shook his head in quiet amusement.
"Thank you, nephew, but this is not quite the time."
I grimaced and saw Lord Mallister follow suit. That man had already taken my assertion as fact and had recognised the thinking behind it. I had only to convince my uncle, a man likely envious of my brother and a man who had felt emasculated given his failures against Jaime Lannister. He would want to fight.
"This is not a jape, uncle. I am serious. Robb means to draw Lord Tywin into the Westerlands, so that we may force a decisive battle. Allowing him to cross will place him in a dangerous position, with my brother's men in front of him, and our host behind him. Then, as the hammer meets the anvil, we can crush his force and scatter them across the Westerlands."
My words were met only with stunned silence. I had not expected much more, but it was still unnerving to see my uncle freeze and eventually fall back on his chair, shock written in every pore of his face.
When he spoke, his voice was weak and barely audible.
"Have you that command in writing, nephew?"
"I do not, uncle. But I can assure you-"
He held up his hand, commanding me to stop. A flicker of irritation rose in my gut at his sheer presumption. My uncle shook his head regretfully.
"While I do not doubt that nephew, surely you understand that I cannot simply permit Lord Tywin free passage through my lands, raping and pillaging at will?"
"I made no mention of free passage, uncle."
But he did not hear me, too absorbed in his thoughts to pay mind to the outside world. Lord Mallister cleared his throat, and I turned to him with a question on my face.
"I understand the command, Prince Rickard, but ought we not to consider our current position?" He spread his hands in appeal, "We have no word of His Grace's position, nor the events in the Westerlands. We do not know if he had been defeated, or if he has been successful. Is it thus not too great a risk to allow the entirety of the Lannister force safely back into the Westerlands where Lord Tywin may be able to raise fresh forces and menace our position?"
In the face of his inquisition, and his antagonism against me, I made sure to adopt a calming tone when speaking to the man.
"I agree with you, my Lord. It is a significant risk to grant Lord Tywin passage across the fords. And, I further agree with you as to the point regarding our knowledge of my brother's position. Nevertheless," I continued, just as he was about to interrupt, "our orders are simple. Lord Tywin must be allowed to pass."
"And what of my lords? What of my people? While I appreciate that is your brother's command, we must consider the current situation. Lord Tywin has already lit the Riverlands half-ablaze without much resistance. Do you believe my lords will simply assent to Lord Tywin being permitted to frolic across their lands, with us providing not an inch of resistance?"
I met the ever-louder tirade with as even a face as I could muster. Even as my uncle rose from his chair and stabbed his finger at me as though it were a weapon; I remained calm. Antagonising the man would be of little help, even if I greatly desired to do so. In truth, it took every bit of restraint I possessed not to have the man disappear from the corridors of Riverrun. My men, I knew, were more than capable of the job. And more than willing if it were to come to that. I had, after all, made certain to employ only those men with certain backgrounds and... predilections.
"I sympathise, uncle, but there is little I can do about it." Much like Lord Mallister, I spread my hands, "Our King commands it, and it must be so."
The room fell silent once more, broken by the sound of the flames hissing in the hearth. As my uncle began to pace, I shared a look with Lord Mallister who simply shrugged his shoulders in resignation. We watched him pace about the room, murmuring under his breath about rebellion and foolishness. This went on for an age, with the two of us daring not to interject or speak. I judged it best to simply let him come to terms with the matter.
When Edmure finally spoke, his voice was hoarse, and his shoulders slumped as if in defeat.
He was seated.
"Very well, nephew. If that is what our King commands, it will be so." He turned away from me, eyes trained on the maps once more. "Go then, and make the necessary preparations. Not that there will be many."
He laughed as he finished his sentence, the dejected sound trailing away into the air.
"You misunderstand me, uncle. We cannot allow him to pass unmolested."
Edmure frowned, "But you said-"
"Again, you misunderstand me, uncle. While he must indeed be allowed to pass into the West, we cannot allow him to leave untouched. No, we will extract our toll."
If possible, he looked even more confused.
"I don't understand."
Resisting the urge to sigh, I continued with my tone unchanged. "We must give Lord Tywin battle at the crossing, lest he suspect our intentions. We need only to ensure that he is also able to cross."
"You mean to intentionally lose the battle?"
Lord Mallister's sudden vociferation was most unwanted and served only to turn Edmure against me.
Plastering a regretful expression on my face, I said, "We must, my Lord. For it will both disguise our intentions and allow us to bleed the Lannisters."
With a look of contempt on his face, Mallister continued, "And just how do you mean to do that, Prince Rickard? Our men, and I will not disparage them, are hardly Lockstep Legionaries to follow such complex orders as losing a battle intentionally without giving away the whole deception."
I shook my head and tried to explain the matter to the offended man.
"Our entire army need not be aware of our intentions, my Lord. Only a certain unit must be aware. Even then, no one beyond the commander would need to know."
"And how would this be achieved, precisely?"
"It is simple, uncle. Our force must be divided into sections, with each section given the responsibility of guarding a part of a particular part of the crossing. All we thus need to do is intentionally leave one section weaker than the rest, and Lord Tywin's men will do the rest for us."
My uncle's face was once again twisted in a frown, and he tugged at his chin as he spoke, "It smacks to me of treachery. Whichever man we appoint to that command will face a grave threat to his life and reputation."
"It is necessary uncle."
"I see that nephew, thank you"
By now, the silence was stifling, and I wished for nothing more than to crawl into my sheets and collapse into a night of sleep, fitful though it would be. Standing in my uncle's chambers was simply intolerable.
I believed then, and continued to believe, that there are times when a man knows when fate is before him, knows when the threads of the Crones spin around his person, binding destiny.
This was such a time.
Edmure Tully's eyes rose to meet mine, a strange look with his.
"I assent to the proposition, nephew. But I will not sacrifice the lives of my nobility for what amounts to a suicidal premise. No, that I will not do."
I did not begin to protest.
"Instead, I will appoint the man most responsible for the formation of this idea, the man who has formulated its every aspect."
My mind did not spin with calculations; it did not whirr with probabilities. I was at peace.
"As such, I appoint you to the crucial position of primary executor of this plan." He rose from his seat, eyes boring into my own. "Prince Rickard of the House Stark, I place you in command of our south-most section, where you will meet Lord Tywin's army to ensure their passage."
Gods protect me.