章節 54: chapter 54
Edmure had thought his shame had been complete. He had backed his friend, Marq Piper, and the results had been disastrous. He had been given command of one of the most formidable fortresses in all of Westeros, and he had lost it. The Riverlands were laid bare and defenseless because of his own incompetence. But he had still further to fall.
Word had come that he was to be ransomed, which would normally be a good thing. However, the particulars were a problem. His sister had executed Lord Royce and Lady Myrcella. It was a shock, and his captors had called it treachery, and Edmure could think of no other explanation. He had met Myrcella; he had even dined with her after his capture. She was courteous, generous, and obviously intelligent. The idea that his freedom was won through treachery by his family turned his stomach.
After he had been exchanged for Lord Fell and members of Myrcella's Stormguard, he met with Petyr Baelish and the Corbray brothers.
"Were you harmed during your captivity, Lord Edmure?" Petyr asked.
"No, I was given every courtesy as a highborn captive. Baelish, I must know, what happened here? The stories they are telling of the Eyrie… I don't want to believe them, but they ring of truth."
The former Master of Coin frowned, "Truth? The truth is that Nestor Royce sought to replace Lady Arryn as Regent for Robert Arryn. I know not if he then intended for our little lord to wed his daughter or just do away with him when convenient. Either way, it was treason. We learned when questioning some of Royce's men that he was working with Lady Myrcella. After the evidence was presented, both Lord Royce and Lady Myrcella did not present much of a defense, other than a demand for trial by combat."
"And they were refused?"
"To my disappointment," Lyn Corbray muttered.
Petyr shrugged, "It went against tradition, but we now serve King Stannis. He executed the Mountain without a trial by combat, or so little whisperers have told me. How can we appeal to the Seven as a final arbiter of justice when our own King does not care for their opinion? A proper trial was held, and Lord Robert Arryn rendered justice."
Edmure had a sense of misgiving about Baelish. The man's words made a certain level of sense, but the whole affair had a stench about it. Robert was a child. And according to the Baratheon soldiers, she had gone to the Vale to fight in another Trial of Seven.
"What of the Trial of Seven – was that not the entire purpose of her journey to the Eyrie?"
Lyonel Corbray drank from his goblet and shrugged. "That was why she came, yes, but it was a ruse. Just an excuse to bring her host to our doorstep. The Blood Gate will never be taken by just force of arms; only through treachery could it be lost."
"Well… that depends on the commander," Lyn smirked as he eyed Edmure.
"We have no time for bad jests," Lyonel snarled at his brother.
Edmure's face colored, but he did not speak in his own defense. Instead, he considered what they were suggesting. That Myrcella had led an army to the Bloody Gate with the intent of seizing it and then backing Nestor Royce in a coup. He supposed some would believe it, but after having met with Lady Myrcella, he doubted it. Some doubts must have shown on his face because Baelish continued his explanation.
"Of course, when put sharply to the question, the words of traitors often ramble on as they leap over word to try to appease their questioners. We may never know the exact details of Nestor's plans, but we do know he was a traitor. It is not just the Corbrays who were approached by Royce; over a dozen lords can testify to his request to remove Lady Arryn from her position."
Lord Corbray approached Edmure and clasped him on the shoulder. "I know the hit to the reputation of your sister and the Vale is troubling, but we acted to preserve her place. Now we aim to finish this conflict swiftly so that we can prepare for winter. Your good-brother's words, what are they again?"
"Winter is Coming," Edmure replied.
"Yes, and they are apt. Lysa is aware of the worries of her lords, and she has decided to allow the last remaining male Royce a trial by combat. She still believes it to be an antiquated tradition, given the King's faith in the Lord of Light, but she has granted this concession to her leal bannermen. When Albar Royce falls to my brother, none can say the Gods did not see justice done."
Edmure felt trapped. He knew of most of the great knights of Westeros, but he couldn't recall Albar Royce having placed highly in any tourney or having completed any great deeds. The words Baelish and Corbray were saying carried an insidious logic – he could think of no effective retort – yet every fiber in his being said this was wrong.
"I should see my sister sooner than late, but thank you for explaining more of the situation."
"Ah," Petyr began, "your sister misses you terribly, but there are some other concerns. The duel between Albar and Lyn will take place tomorrow here at the Blood Gate. Then in but two days' time, we will march with the strength of the Vale. The journey to the Eyrie, which includes the waycastles, cannot be completed so swiftly. Lady Arryn requests that you join the banners. Our battle commanders do not know if Ser Barristan means to offer us battle or not; should he not, we would seek to pursue and have you rally the Riverlands to our cause. If he does seek to fight, we will follow up their destruction with the liberation of the rest of the Riverlands. As the heir to Riverrun, you should be seen doing your part."
"Do the men still think me fit for command?" Edmure asked bitterly.
Lyn hid a laugh with a cough, while Petyr frowned.
"Edmure, we were friends, once. I regret my bitter folly in my youth and how I turned away from you. I would rekindle our friendship – work with me, and I will see your reputation restored. There is no shame in losing to Ser Barristan the Bold. The man is a legend from Winterfell to Dorne. Let us bring this war to its conclusion, so that your people will not starve in the winter. I encourage you to lend your voice in support of your nephew to your king. Rally your people. When history looks back on you, they will see a gallant lord, who did not allow his early losses to define him."
Edmure looked at the friendly, smiling face and slowly nodded. He didn't fully trust the man, but that vision inflamed a new hope in his chest. Regardless of the murky circumstances of Lady Myrcella's death, his people's future was what mattered. Petyr was right about the need to bring the war to an end.
"I will write a message to my sister, but I will witness the duel, and I will march with you. Do not give me a command to lead; I will not compound my folly by demanding a role when I know other men are better suited."
Petyr clasped him by the shoulders. "Edmure, you undersell yourself, but we will honor your request. We shall do great things together."
***
Finally, it was time. Lyn Corbray loved the thrill of battle, his pulse pounding in his ears, and the suffering of his enemies. The lords who had called their banners were in attendance at the Bloody Gate. Houses Egen, Dutton, Hunter, Redfort, Elesham, Melcom, Upcliff, and more. Many of the nobles from the Riverlands who had been freed were also in attendance.
Petyr had spoken with Albar beforehand and offered generous terms. Should Albar win, he could accuse them of all manner of things, show the scars on his body of the torture they had carried out, and of course be proclaimed innocent along with restoring his father's honor. But only after he won. During the fight, he would keep the accusations to himself and make no mention of the torment done to him. Should he do so, well, they had his sister, and they would treble everything they had done to him on her own body. Albar had agreed with a curse and hate in his eyes.
Lady Arryn was at the Eyrie, along with Lord Robert. Lyonel Corbray, acting in their stead, announced the charges of treason and conspiracy with Lady Myrcella in a coup against Lysa Arryn, their liege lady. Albar Royce simply said he was innocent, as was his father, and that he put his life in the hands of the Gods.
The Septon prattled on a bit while Lyn and Albar knelt and waited for him to finish. Lyn saw that Albar had donned plate armor, similar to his own, and was armed with a two-handed hammer. The decision was either foolish or inspired. A regular one-handed hammer was devastating enough, a two-handed one was overkill. However, if Albar knew how hopelessly outclassed he was, perhaps he was going to put everything he had on the wild hope of one massive strike at the right moment.
When the sermon and prayer were finally done with, Lyn took up Lady Forlorn. He had brought a shield, but using it here would not serve much purpose. Attempting to block a two-handed strike from that weapon would likely break his arm. No, he would rather not have the shield weigh him down.
Lyn grinned underneath his helm as they circled each other. He was going to enjoy this. As Albar stepped down, Corbray moved. His Valyrian steel blade sang out and screeched across his opponent's breastplate. Some believed Valyrian steel could slice through armor like it was cloth – this was not true. Its cutting edge could make shallow cuts, but not sufficient to pierce through castle-forged steel. It could weaken an area and make it vulnerable to a powerful thrust that normally would not be able to penetrate.
Having long finished his attack, he was more than ready when Albar hefted his hammer and thrust it forward at him. Lyn stepped back, and Albar came on, holding it at mid length and keeping his movements sharp and controlled. Lyn circled and then sent an overhand swing at Albar's helm. Royce dodged to the side, and Lady Forlorn struck his pauldron. The blade bit deep as Albar swung his own weapon around toward Lyn's side. Corbray stepped in close, not allowing the hammer to find purchase, and then struck at his opponent's visor with the hilt of his blade.
Royce stumbled backward, and three more shallow cuts sliced into Royce's breastplate. Albar shook his head and adjusted the grip on his hammer. They returned to circling, Lyn enjoying the dance, despite Littlefinger and his brother's request to end it quickly. Lyn feinted one way and then struck the opposite side. Albar accepted the slice and swung his hammer hard toward Lyn's leg.
"You'll have to be swifter, ser," Lyn taunted as he danced away from the blow that smashed into the ground. As Albar tried to lift his hammer back into a guard, Lyn kicked him in the chest. Overbalanced by trying to lift the hammer at the same time, Albar stumbled back and lost his footing, crashing on his back. He moved quickly to regain his feet, and Lyn allowed him to rise before beginning to circle again.
Lyn struck out like a darting viper, peeling away shards of metal, while Albar tried to find an opening his opponent couldn't dodge. It was soon apparent that despite the whirlwind of slashes, it was Royce who was running low on stamina.
"Others take you, you murdering whoreson!" Albar shouted and swung his maul with all his might. Lyn easily backed away, but Albar had swung it in a circular motion around his body, and when it had completed its circuit, he let it fly from his hands.
Lyn twisted his body around to dodge, but the head of the hammer struck him in the shoulder, turning his evasion into a stumble to the ground. Still, he made good use of the momentum and was already rolling to his feet as Albar charged him with his belt knife. While still on one knee, Lady Forlorn lashed out, striking Royce across the hand, biting into the gauntlet enough to find flesh and disarm his opponent, albeit not literally – not yet. Rising to his feet, Corbray lashed out again as Albar desperately tried to avoid him and make for his hammer.
Lyn was faster, and he landed a good slice to the back of Albar's leg as reached for the hammer. The metal links and padding protecting the joint were sheared by the Valyrian steel, and more blood was spilled as Albar tumbled to the ground. The knight did make it to his hammer though, and he swung wildly, expecting Lyn to be atop him, but Lyn just watched, like a cat eying a mouse.
"Get up – if you can."
Albar limped to his feet, clearly favoring one leg. He hefted his hammer and growled.
"Come then, finish me if you can."
Lyn charged him suddenly; after all the circling and slashing he had done, this was clearly something Albar hadn't been expecting, only belatedly raising his hammer in a defensive position. Instead of using his sword, Corbray just rammed with his shoulder. With one leg near useless, Albar could not keep balanced, and he fell back down to the floor. Lyn wasted no time in hacking down, striking the visor and helm in quick succession. Albar threw up his arms to avoid further hits to that part of his body, and Lyn took Lady Forlorn in both hands and hacked at the elbow in a devastating blow that bit deep into the arm. Royce gave a cry of pain and tried to kick out with his leg to make Lyn fall as well, but to no avail.
Lyn backed away.
"Get up. No wonder your father chose the path of treason; he would have no legacy with you as his son."
Albar struggled; his one arm was bleeding severely, and it did not seem he had strength in it. His leg was also in bad shape. He managed to keep hold of his hammer as he staggered to his feet, but no sooner did he do so, Lyn was there to knock him back down. Again, he rose, and again he fell. Lyn counted out seven times in his head.
Let the Septons and singers bleat about me taking the 'traitor' down seven times.
Albar was done after a last vicious strike. His hammer lay out of reach. His breathing was uneven, and based on the blood dripping down and forming a growing puddle, his heart would not keep pumping much longer. He did not even have breath or energy to speak. Corbray advanced and dropped one knee on the arm that was less wounded. He bent down and whispered some final words to Nestor's son.
"Your bitch of a sister will be despoiled by me personally, and she will be begging for her death for months before we grant her wish."
Right after he said those words, he thrust down Lady Forlorn with his entire body weight, piercing the damaged gorget, and turned Albar's throat into a bloody ruin.
He had been lying, of course. He had no desire to fuck Albar's sister – or any woman. And torture was only fun when fighting a foe in battle. Tormenting someone you hadn't personally bested with your superior abilities was churlish.
His brother glared at him, but then turned to the assembled lords. "Lady Arryn has answered your desires. She has allowed Albar Royce, traitor that he clearly was, the dignity of a trial by combat. Let all know that the Gods have judged him a traitor. Let it be thus to any who raises their hand against the rightful Lady of the Vale!"
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