TitoVillar
patreon
GOT Chapter 96: The Bargain of Frey
🕑 Added 2025-08-26 05:48:08 +0000 UTCNow that his aim was achieved, Kal cheerfully clapped Hoster on the shoulder.
“Eat more meat, Hoster. Perhaps one day I’ll have the honor of laying my sword upon your shoulder.”
At those words, everyone’s eyes shifted to Hoster’s thin, skin-and-bone frame.
“I’d wager that if ‘Tall’ Duncan ever met you, he might seriously consider finding himself a more fitting name,” Kossi chuckled, making a light-hearted jest at Hoster’s expense.
Hearing that, Hoster laughed as well. Spreading his hands with a helpless look, he replied, “Perhaps before that, I ought to learn how to face an ‘enemy’ armed with nothing but a tree branch.”
At that, laughter rippled through the room.
For a time, the mood of the council was warm and merry.
But as the others traded jests, Jon stepped to Kal’s side. “Lord Kal, does this tactic of yours have a name? I’ve never heard anyone speak of it.”
“You can call it guerrilla warfare.”
“When the enemy advances, we fall back. When the enemy encamps, we harass. When the enemy grows weary, we strike. When the enemy retreats, we pursue.”
“If you can’t grasp the deeper meaning, then think of it more simply—fight when you can win, run when you cannot.”
Kal’s eyes held a glint of approval at Jon’s sharpness. With a broad grin, he ruffled the boy’s hair—
Then turned and left the chamber.
Jon remained behind, standing still in thought.
...
Raventree Hall, the next morning.
The company had already lightened their baggage and stood ready outside the city. Every horse carried at least one bundle of arrow quivers on its back.
These arrows accounted for half of House Blackwood’s entire stockpile; the remaining half had been left within Raventree, for the use of those who stayed behind.
This time, Kal had chosen only about a hundred men to ride out with him on their raids. Each man was provided with three horses, and their equipment was lavish.
Helmets of full plate without visors, shields, longswords, lances, two longbows apiece, and hauberks of double-linked chainmail, each ring locked with two others—every man armed from head to toe.
It could be said that this small company was armed to the very teeth.
“We have more than enough ravens among us. We must exchange messages at least once every day."
“And every three days, I will return to rotate the watch—five days at the very latest. If more time passes than that, then you must be prepared to enact the contingencies I gave you.”
Before setting out, Kal took Hoster Blackwood, acting lord of Raventree, aside and carefully entrusted him with the tasks he needed to carry out.
Hoster, trying hard to wear the look of a grown man, listened intently to every word Kal spoke, nodding over and over again. Beside him, Maester Moser watched silently, eyes gleaming with expectation.
When he had finished with Hoster, Kal turned to Kossi.
Looking at the man who had once been nothing more than a brothel pimp and dockside thief in King’s Landing, Kal could not help but feel a surge of emotion.
“I never imagined the day would come when you would stand as a ‘hero’ defending a city.”
“So did I, my lord!” At Kal’s words, Kossi’s face first froze in surprise, then his eyes reddened, and his expression filled with gratitude.
Kal smiled at his reply and clapped him firmly on the shoulder.
“I also look forward to the day you become my captain of guards. When that time comes, my sword too will rest upon your shoulder.”
...
The raven that flew out from Raventree Hall crossed the Blue Fork before alighting within the Frey family’s seat at the Twins.
A withered hand reached out, unfastened a small bamboo tube from its leg, and then offered the bird a reward—a mixture of dried fish shreds and grain.
At last, after passing through several hands, this letter from Blackwood Vale came into the king’s possession.
Upon reading its contents, Robert’s face first twisted into anger, but soon, after a moment’s thought, shifted into a grin.
He handed the letter to Eddard at his side, then lifted the goblet of red wine a maid had just filled for him.
Downing a great draught in one breath, he let out a satisfied sigh.
“This boy… he truly has the same fire I once had.”
“Seven hells, Ned, you’re too damned stiff. I say you ought to agree to what I told you earlier!”
Robert’s voice thundered from his chest like a storm, making ears ring.
Yet with Walder Frey present in the hall, Robert did not state outright what matter he meant.
Eddard Stark, however, seemed deaf to the king’s thunder. His brow furrowed slightly as he studied the letter again.
He read it through three times, making sure he had missed nothing, before finally raising his head to Robert.
“Your Grace, we must make haste!”
“Ser Kal Stone has only two hundred men. That he took Raventree Hall and rescued the Blackwoods with so few is already a miracle. Though it was reckless—”
After pondering the letter a moment, Eddard voiced his thoughts.
Hearing the way he addressed Kal, Robert immediately understood: Ned was expressing his displeasure at the earlier words, though speaking with restraint only because he stood before his damned king.
In the past, the Lord of Winterfell had not been so mild or courteous.
Robert merely snorted. “He didn’t lose a single one of those two hundred. And that is what you call reckless?”
“If so, then back when you, Jon Arryn, and I overthrew the Targaryens, should we have asked the maesters to invent a whole new bloody word for it?”
Seeing Robert grow petulant again, flaunting his own bastard, Eddard could only feel a dull headache.
At that moment, old Lord Frey chuckled as he slipped in his own words.
“Lord Eddard, you may rest assured—the Frey family will give the king and you our fullest support. I will even have my heir of the Twins march to war alongside you.”
Hearing this, Eddard’s head ached even more. He could not even bring himself to look at that bald-headed old weasel.
He already dreaded returning home to face Catelyn and the children.
For he had bartered them away as part of this bargain.
He could already imagine it: when he returned to that chamber, which for him would feel like a blazing furnace, Catelyn would be sure to kick him straight out of bed.
Though Walder Frey had at first demanded that Robb Stark must wed one of his daughters if they wished for Frey support, after Eddard fought him down with reason, the man finally relented—so long as the heir of Winterfell was exchanged for his second son, Bran Stark.
Though he understood the necessity, the whole affair still left a sour taste in his heart.
Eddard Stark despised such mercenary bargains. A marriage alliance might be a sound arrangement for both sides, but to him it was still distasteful.
And though the matter could be delayed for now—since Bran was still young—Eddard knew this was nothing more than wishful thinking on his part.
For House Stark did not break its oaths.
When Eddard’s face darkened at a single word from him, old Walder Frey merely kept smiling.
To a wily fox like him, securing a marriage tie with one of Westeros’s great houses was victory enough. He cared little whether it was Eddard Stark’s first son or his second.
Why, even Eddard himself would have done, had it come to that.
Of course, if the bridegroom were the heir, the eldest son, that would be ideal. That had been his true aim from the start.
Yet who could have predicted that, just when he timed his demand to squeeze the Starks at such a critical moment, a Ser Kal Stone would appear and shatter part of his scheme?
So Walder had been forced to settle for second best.
Still, no matter how it came about, he had achieved his goal perfectly. And that was reason enough to be pleased.
Had he not lingered here with his men unmoving, under the summons of his liege lord Hoster Tully, for precisely this purpose?
Walder Frey smacked his lips in satisfaction, savoring another sip from his cup, and let out his coarse, grating chuckle.
For Eddard Stark, enduring the two men’s back-and-forth was enough to make him feel ready to spit blood.
With a sharp motion, he stood, flung the letter back onto the long table, and snapped: “We must cross the river tomorrow and march south. We cannot afford further delay!”
Having made his stance plain, the Lord of Winterfell turned to leave.
But Robert called him back once more.
“Hold, Ned! Since when did that frozen wasteland of yours breed such impatience in your nature?”
Robert set down his goblet and fixed his gaze on Eddard, who had halted and turned back to face him.
Then the king’s voice grew low and heavy.
“What do you make of the Tyrells of Highgarden?” Robert asked his Hand.
At these words, Walder Frey’s smile faded somewhat. He, too, set down his cup and listened intently.
Eddard Stark frowned, turning the matter over in silence.
Seeing him deep in thought, Robert went on: “Varys writes that Dorne seems to be stirring, and Renly, who had been in King’s Landing, has gone back to Storm’s End…
“And Stannis has begun raising men on Dragonstone, though his strength is hardly worth mention.”
“But that spider also warned me the sellsword companies of the Free Cities have shown unusual movements as well.”
“According to the reports, it seems the Lannisters may have made contact with them.”
Robert’s tone was layered with meaning, yet his intent was clear enough.
“The Golden Company?”
At Robert’s words, Eddard’s brow furrowed even tighter.
Seeing that the king was finally speaking of serious matters, he set aside all thought of other duties and sat back down at the long table before him.
Robert shook his head.
“Not just them.” He gave a cold, derisive laugh, his face full of scorn. “It seems the Lannisters are more than willing to pay a heavy price.”
