Game of Thrones: Knight's Honor-Chapter 346: Tywin’s Compromise

In Riverrun, while the North and the Riverlands were locked in conflict, Tywin at the Inn of the Kneeling Man was facing a dilemma of his own. He wasn't debating whether to retreat—only how.

When floodwaters engulfed the central plains of the Riverlands, Tywin had already given up on continuing the standoff at Riverrun. He began seeking a suitable retreat route. Now, his options were few: wait for the waters to recede and pass through Harrenhal; take the Red Fork's riverbank, detour through Pinkmaiden Castle, and skirt the Riverlands' edge; or head for High Heart, reach the upper Blackwater Rush, build rafts, and float downstream to King's Landing.

Whichever path he took, one hurdle remained unavoidable: the armies of the Riverlands and the North stationed at Riverrun. If they pursued during the retreat, his forces risked a catastrophic defeat.

Just as Tywin was struggling with this decision—and receiving little useful advice from his men—a letter arrived by messenger, solving his problem.

"This Robb Stark is just as stubborn, rigid, and foolish as his father. He's thrown away his future for a woman." After reading the letter, Tywin sneered, then glanced at the messenger. "Tell that old man I accept his terms. Once it's done, House Frey will be the lord of Riverrun and Warden of the Riverlands."

"My lord, my great-grandfather requires a more reliable guarantee." The messenger looked up at Tywin. He was none other than Black Walder, who had recently fought alongside Robb Stark in the invasion of the Westerlands.

Tywin was silent for a moment before removing a ring bearing his family crest and tossing it to Black Walder. "Lannisters always pay their debts. Keep this ring safe. Once I've fulfilled my promise, return it to me exactly as it is."

Black Walder caught the ring, then carefully took a small box from his pocket. He dumped out the jewels inside, tore a piece of cloth from his clothes, wrapped the ring, placed it in the box, and stored it in his inner pocket.

Seeing Black Walder treat the ring so cautiously, Tywin gave a satisfied nod and signaled for him to leave.

Once Black Walder departed, Tywin summoned his commanders and ordered preparations for withdrawal. In the end, he chose the route through Pinkmaiden Castle. That part of the Riverlands had already been ravaged by the Mountain's forces—its villages emptied, its lords either dead or fled. There was hardly any resistance left. The only threat now was a potential pursuit from Riverrun.

But from what Black Walder had revealed, cracks had already formed between the North and the Riverlands inside Riverrun, making a strong pursuit unlikely.

Still, Tywin had failed to anticipate one thing—the weather.

No sooner had he begun his retreat than heavy rains poured across the Riverlands. The floodwaters surged into the Trident, submerging the already waterlogged lands and turning swamps into lakes.

Flooding spread in every direction. Even Harrenhal was inundated. The lands around Pinkmaiden Castle on the Red Fork were no exception. Tywin and the Westerlands army found themselves completely cut off.

"My lord, we've scoured the area for wood, but we can only build twenty rafts at most. There's no way the whole army can cross this body of water..." A knight overseeing raft construction delivered the report to Tywin.

"Forget it. Don't build the rafts." Tywin's expression was dark as he sat in his tent, listening to the downpour hammering the canvas above. Everyone around him stood silently, heads lowered, not daring to meet his eyes.

Tywin didn't lash out in helpless rage. He simply waved a hand to dismiss them all, then turned and retrieved a letter from a nearby chest.

The letter had arrived days ago, sent by one of Littlefinger's men. It outlined the terms offered by House Tyrell. At the time, Tywin had dismissed the conditions outright.

Forcing Cersei to abdicate and enter the Redemption Sept as a sister of the Faith was one thing. But even having Joffrey marry a noblewoman from a cadet branch of House Tyrell was already an unforgivable insult to House Lannister. Clearly, this was the Tyrells retaliating for Cersei unilaterally breaking the marriage pact.

But times had changed. Where once he had options, now his choices were few. It was time to give the matter serious consideration.

As things stood, Tywin could no longer rescue King's Landing. Kevan might command tens of thousands, but his forces were green recruits. The real veterans were still with Tywin in the Riverlands. Those fresh troops might win if fortune favored them, but if they suffered even a minor setback, their inexperience would show, and they'd collapse into chaos.

So even if Kevan led a relief force to King's Landing, it would likely end in failure. At this point, only the armies of the Reach could stand against Stannis.

Tywin sat in silence for a long while, deep in thought. At last, he picked up a sheet of paper and a pen, swiftly wrote out a series of instructions, copied the letter more than a dozen times, stamped each with his family seal, and ordered them to be sent immediately by raven to the major lords of the Seven Kingdoms, the principal Septs of the Faith, and the Citadel in Oldtown.

This letter was the public pledge Garlan had requested. Making such a declaration in this form meant that Lord Tywin would be absolutely bound to his word. If he were to go back on it, House Lannister's credibility would be utterly ruined.

More importantly, every copy of the letter clearly named Lord Lynd of Summerhall, the Stepstones, and the Narrow Sea as official witnesses. As long as Lynd acknowledged the terms stated in the letter, Tywin would be held to his oath, and Lynd, as the witness, would then have the right to march on Casterly Rock—even the local lords of the Westerlands would have no authority to stop him.

The letter from Tywin was delivered to Summerhall the very next day and placed directly into Lynd's hands. freewēbnoveℓ.com

When he read it, Lynd was genuinely surprised. The letter all but stripped Tywin of his dignity, and yet the man had endured the humiliation and agreed to such harsh terms. Rather than think less of Tywin, Lynd found himself admiring him even more.

"My lord, are you really going to accept being the witness?" Sansa asked, visibly worried.

She was no longer the naive young lady she once was. After reviewing countless documents, she had developed a keen sense of judgment. The moment she saw the letter, she understood that if Lynd agreed to be the witness, it would effectively forge an alliance between the Westerlands and the Reach—an alliance that would not bode well for the North.

"Yes," Lynd replied, giving Sansa an answer that left her bitterly disappointed.

Sansa opened her mouth to protest, but Margaery stopped her.

Though Margaery hadn't known Lynd long, she already had a good grasp of his temperament. Once he made a decision, nothing short of a compelling reason could change his mind. And Sansa, clearly, had no such reason to oppose him acting as the witness to the pact.

Lynd looked at Sansa and asked, "You're worried about your brother, Robb Stark, aren't you?"

Sansa nodded.

Lynd pulled a piece of intelligence from beside him and handed it to her. "Tell me—what do you see in this report?"

Sansa and Margaery both froze for a moment. The document hadn't come by raven from the usual roost, but from the Eyrie itself. That alone signaled its importance. Neither of them had read it before.

While Sansa hesitated, Margaery reached out and took the report first, beginning to read. Sansa immediately leaned in to read alongside her.

The document detailed three events, written in chronological order.

The first was that Ramsay Snow, the bastard son of Roose Bolton, had led the men of the Dreadfort in a surprise attack on Winterfell, trying to seize it from the Ironborn. But they had walked into a trap. The entire force from the Dreadfort was annihilated, and Ramsay himself was captured by Theon Greyjoy. Under duress, Ramsay was forced to open the gates of the Dreadfort, allowing Theon and his Ironborn to storm the castle in a bloodbath. Apart from White Harbor, there was no one left in the North capable of standing against Theon and his Ironborn.

The second event had taken place in Riverrun. Rickard Karstark had executed prisoners without permission and even killed an ally in the process. Robb Stark had him executed for it. In response, the Karstark forces, long a central pillar of the Northern army, withdrew their loyalty and returned to the North with Rickard's body.

The Karstarks had always been one of Robb's most loyal supporters. Now that both father and son had met such a grim end, resentment began to spread through the Northern host. Even some in the Riverlands saw Robb as a harsh and ungrateful leader.

The third event was that Catelyn and Brienne, on their way to cross the river at the Twins, were unaware that Robb had broken his oath and fallen out with House Frey.

As a result, they were immediately detained upon arrival by Old Walder Frey.

After that, Walder sent his great-grandson, Black Walder, as an envoy to Robb, offering to reestablish the alliance. The price: Edmure must marry a daughter of House Frey, and any children they had would inherit the title of Lord of Riverrun.

Margaery finished reading first and passed the report to Sansa, who was still working through it. Then, in her usual thoughtful tone, she said, "I used to think Robb Stark's worst mistake was breaking his vow to House Frey and marrying another woman. But now, that's clearly not the biggest blunder. Executing Rickard Karstark was. What kind of fool kills one of his most loyal bannermen in the middle of a war and splits his own army? What do you expect the other Northern lords to think? Who would keep fighting for a liege like that? It seems all of Robb Stark's past victories were nothing but luck. He clearly doesn't understand what truly matters when commanding an army in wartime."

Lynd smiled and turned to Margaery.

"Oh? Then tell me—what is the most important thing for a commander?"

"Victory. Leading the army to victory is what matters most," Margaery replied seriously. "Every decision must revolve around winning. Even if it means abandoning all principles or making the wrong choices, if the end result is victory, it's worth it."

She continued, "Take Lord Rickard, for example. Yes, executing prisoners is terrible, but right now the war with the Westerlands is what truly matters. If I were in Robb's place, I would have buried the incident and given Lord Rickard a suitable punishment. Then I'd send him into the most dangerous battles, telling him it was a chance to redeem himself—so he could fight to make up for what he'd done. If Rickard died in battle, that would be punishment enough. And if he didn't, then his merits could cancel out his crimes."

Sansa, listening from the side, nodded in agreement. After reading the intelligence report, she too felt that her brother Robb Stark had been too rigid, too foolish in his decisions. And that same rigid foolishness reminded her of their father—bringing with it a sharp wave of unease.

That unease pushed her to ask, almost involuntarily, "Your Grace... is my brother Robb going to die?"

The question startled not only Margaery, but Lynd as well. He hadn't expected Sansa to reach such a grim conclusion based solely on the contents of that report.

"Why do you think that?" he asked.

Sansa looked directly at him and said, "You've told me more than once that everyone makes mistakes. Some are small and don't do real harm. But others—some are so big they devour the person who made them. My father, Lord Eddard, made a series of such mistakes, and in the end, he was executed in front of everyone. And now my brother is making those same kinds of mistakes. Deadly ones. I can feel it—they're consuming him. Will he end up like my father?"

Margaery turned to look at her, visibly surprised. In that moment, she felt a change in Sansa—something deeper, more mature.

Lynd, too, was taken aback by her words. He didn't respond. He simply let out a soft sigh.

Sansa caught the meaning in his expression. Her face fell with quiet sorrow, but she didn't ask him to save Robb. She already knew—Lynd would never agree.

Then, suddenly, Lynd raised his voice.

"I will issue a public proclamation across the Seven Kingdoms, affirming myself as the witness to Lord Tywin's oath to Lord Mace. I need this proclamation sent in letter form to the great lords of every kingdom, to the Septs of the Faith, and to the Citadel in Oldtown. Margaery—you'll handle the letters for the Reach, Dorne, the Westerlands, and the Stormlands. Sansa, you'll take care of the Crownlands, the Riverlands, the Vale, and the North. Don't miss anyone, especially the major cities—Highgarden, Sunspear, the Eyrie, Riverrun. Understood?"

Sansa, still caught in her grief, didn't quite register what he meant.

It was Margaery who reached over, tugged her sleeve firmly, and said, "You idiot. Didn't you hear? Riverrun. He's telling you to send a letter to Riverrun."

Sansa blinked, startled—then realization hit. She quickly turned and thanked Lynd.

He waved her off casually, simply instructing them to send out all the letters as soon as possible.