In the towering hall of The Eyrie.
The fighting spirit, just incited by Lysa Arryn, flickered like a campfire on a mountain peak in the cold wind, threatening to extinguish at any moment.
On the faces of the noble knights, excitement and unease were intertwined.
The glory of killing a dragon was indeed tempting, but the fear of being an enemy to the entire North and the royal family was no small matter either.
So far, the conservatives and surrender advocates made up the vast majority.
Some people, astute to the situation, had even begun to ponder how to feign agreement, then slack off, hoping to secure leniency during their eventual trial.
Their army was strong, and Lynn's wildlings were weak, but never forget.
If they wanted to attack the Gift, they would always have to pass Winterfell.
House Stark was not to be trifled with!
As long as the Vale dared to attack, Ned would deliver a devastating blow to the Vale!
Lysa Arryn took all of this in.
She knew that hatred and temptation alone were not enough.
She had to give these wavering fence-sitters a true reassurance.
Only then could she persuade everyone to walk the tightrope with her, and only then could she survive Robert's wrath.
"I know what you are worried about."
Lysa's voice rang out again.
This time, she put away her frenzy and adopted a confident, strategic demeanor.
"Do you think I have no reliable allies?"
She looked around at everyone, a mysterious smile playing on her lips.
"You forgot, besides Arryn, my surname is also Tully!"
"Riverrun is my home, and Lord Hoster Tully is my father."
"The banner of House Tully will always fly for its own blood!"
"The The Riverlands will be our first barrier, and our most reliable ally!"
These words brought a sense of relief to the atmosphere in the hall.
Although the The Riverlands were easy to attack and difficult to defend, the prestige and military strength of House Tully could not be underestimated.
If they could join, the war would be completely different.
"And my sister, Catelyn Stark."
Lysa continued to raise the stakes, her voice carrying a hint of boastful intimacy.
"She is the Duchess of Winterfell."
"Ned Stark, that old stubborn man, might side with Lynn because of so-called honor and oaths."
"But my sister, she is first and foremost a daughter of House Tully!"
"House Tully always puts family first; she would never stand by and watch her own sister fall into despair!"
"Believe me, the North is nothing to fear!"
The nobles began to whisper among themselves, the doubts on their faces largely dissipated.
Lady Lysa's words made a lot of sense.
This war no longer seemed to be the Vale against the whole world, but an internal struggle between great houses.
War was never a small matter.
It involved many things.
If it was truly just the Vale attacking the Gift, that would be truly futile; they would even have to fight a bitter battle with Stark, let alone the Gift.
Seeing that the time was ripe, Lysa threw out her last and most lethal trump card.
"Of course, I still have an ace up my sleeve."
She paused, looking at the uncertain, startled gazes from these people who had been terrified by war.
"I have already reached an agreement with Balon Greyjoy of the Iron Islands."
Boom—!
This name instantly stirred up massive waves!
The Iron Islands?
Those sea ruffians who believed that "might makes right" and knew only plunder and slaughter?
Balon Greyjoy, a fervent believer in and dedicated to restoring the ancient traditions of the Ironborn—the "Old Way."
That is, to live and gain glory through seafaring and raiding.
Balon's first rebellion against the iron throne, though it briefly saw Lannisport burned, was ultimately suppressed by Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark.
Balon lost two sons, and his youngest son Theon was sent to Winterfell as a hostage.
If Lynn were here, he would know that after the War of the Five Kings erupted in the future, Balon would reject Robb Stark's offer of alliance, declare himself king again, and march his army into the North.
Taking advantage of the North's depleted forces, the Ironborn, led by Asha, Theon, and others, successfully captured many castles including Deepwood Motte, Torrhen's Square, and even Winterfell.
It could be said that this man was a notorious monster!
Moreover, he was also a monster with fierce Ironborn people and extremely strong naval power!
Furthermore, even if Theon hadn't been a hostage, he would have no goodwill towards House Stark or House Baratheon.
Let alone that Theon had already become someone else's son; even if Ned treated Theon Greyjoy as his own son, showering him with a thousand times more kindness, it wouldn't matter!
He would never miss the excellent opportunity to attack House Stark!
The Ironborn were such a notorious group of people!
"My Lady! Are you mad!"
"Bronze Yohn" Royce roared in disbelief.
"You would ally with those scoundrels who have no honor?"
"They are pirates! They are bandits!"
"Honor?"
Lysa let out a scoff.
"Can honor stop Dragonfire, Lord Royce?"
"When the enemy already has a knife to your throat, do you still care if the one handing you a weapon is a knight or a butcher?"
She walked to the center of the hall, her voice full of seduction.
"The Iron Islands' fleet is the strongest naval force in the Seven Kingdoms!"
"They crave war, they crave wealth!"
"I have promised them that as long as they can cut off Lynn's Gift' sea supply and harass the North's west coast!"
"Then after the war, all the wealth along the western coast of the North, including Bear Island, will be theirs!"
"They will effectively control the west coast!"
"The Iron Fleet will split into two routes: one will head straight from Sea Dragon Point to Bear Island, letting the weak she-bears of House Mormont know the might of the Ironborn!"
"This will apply pressure from the west."
"The other route will firmly lock down the vital sea lanes to the east of the Gift!"
"Lynn's army, his so-called wildlings, what will they eat? What will they drink?"
"Without supplies, without reinforcements, they can only starve and freeze to death in the ice and snow!"
"And our knights of the Vale don't even need to actively attack."
"We only need to build a defensive line in the south, set up strong crossbows to withstand the impact of the dragons and their allied forces, and wait for them to be exhausted, then we can easily starve them to death in the harsh North!"
Lysa's plan was venomous, yet incredibly effective.
At a critical juncture, Lysa, a woman with almost no political ability, burst forth with astonishing wisdom.
For the North to rely on its own farming for food was tantamount to a fool's dream.
Everyone lowered their heads.
Leaving aside what Lysa was hiding and whether the rumors about Petyr were true, just by involving the Iron Islands, their war would not be on the side of justice.
They would be fighting an unjust war.
Looking at the varied expressions of the crowd, Lysa's eyes grew cold.
She had said so much, yet these old stubborn fools still disagreed.
If they didn't agree, she would only face death!
They had to agree!
Persuasion alone was useless.
Sometimes, blood was more convincing than anything else.
Then, let's start with the surrender faction.
Lysa's gaze subtly fell upon "Bronze Yohn" Royce, who had consistently opposed her... Riverrun.
The Red Fork and the Green Fork rivers converged here, flowing ceaselessly.
This sturdy, triangular castle, like an unsinkable stone ship, cut through the rushing waters.
However, the life force of the castle's lord was already like a candle flickering in the wind.
In Lord Hoster Tully's bedchamber, a heavy sickliness permeated, which even the strong herbal scent couldn't dispel.
The once powerful and authoritative Protector of the The Riverlands, who ruled with an iron fist, was now just an old man lying in bed, emaciated by illness.
Edmure Tully, his son and the future Lord of Riverrun, paced anxiously by the bedside.
He had inherited the red hair and blue eyes of House Tully, but he lacked his father's former composure and sharpness.
"Father, Lysa's letter..."
Edmure looked at the old man in bed, his face filled with hesitation.
"Read it."
Lord Hoster's voice was hoarse with phlegm.
Edmure cleared his throat and read the letter, filled with insane plans, word for word.
With each sentence, the chill in Lord Hoster's cloudy eyes deepened.
When Edmure read that Lysa had allied with the Iron Islands, the old man's withered body trembled violently, and he began to cough severely.
"Cough... cough cough... Madwoman! Lysa, that madwoman!"
"What does she want to do?"
"She only needed to admit her mistake, and with our old friendship, I was confident enough to persuade Robert to spare her from the death penalty!"
"What on earth does she want to do!"
The The Riverlands was not as isolated as the Vale; he had already learned about Petyr's matter and understood that Lysa likely sought revenge for him.
But Lysa wanting to spread the flames of war to the The Riverlands was something he had never dreamed of.
Lord Hoster struggled to sit up, but a sharp pain forced him back onto the bed.
"Father!"
Edmure quickly stepped forward to support him.
"Get lost!"
Hoster pushed his son away, astonishing fury erupting from his sunken eyes.
"Do you also think her plan is good?"
"Huh?"
"You want to go crazy with her too?"
"I... I just think, Lysa is our family after all... I should support her."
"After all, House Tully always puts family first, isn't that right, Father?"
Edmure's voice grew softer and softer.
"Family?"
Lord Hoster let out a sorrowful, bitter laugh.
"For that vile little man named Baelish, she even murdered her own husband, and now she wants to drag the entire The Riverlands to its grave with him!"
"She doesn't see us as family at all!"
"She only sees House Tully as her burial offering!"
The old man gasped for breath, his chest heaving violently.
"The The Riverlands, a land of four wars, with no natural defenses!"
"What has House Tully relied on to stand for hundreds of years?"
"It's alliances! It's knowing when to act! Not dying alongside a madwoman!"
"Who is Lynn?"
"He is the King's son-in-law! He has Dragons! He has the entire North behind him!"
"Ned Stark, that stubborn fellow, would never stand by and watch his bannermen be attacked!"
"Go to war with them? What will we fight with? Your face?"
"If a war really breaks out, our alliance of three houses will be completely destroyed!"
"Do you think those people in the South will let such a good opportunity slip by?"
Lord Hoster's furious scolding made Edmure's face turn red and then pale.
To be honest, he was indeed tempted.
If he could help his sister establish an independent kingdom, then his status as an uncle would also rise.
He even calculated that after the war, he might be able to get some land from the North.
Of course, there was also Lysa's Vale...
"I... I was still hoping you could marry a Lannister daughter, so we would have a backer in the Westerlands!"
"But you, you're already thinking about how to stir up a hornet's nest!"
"How could I..."
Lord Hoster grew more and more agitated, finally letting out a long sigh.
"Alas..."
"Reply!"
His voice was filled with weariness.
"Tell her, the motto of House Tully is 'Family, Duty, Honor.'"
"And she, she has touched none of the three."
"Riverrun will not shed a single drop of blood or lose a single life for her madness!"
"Let her give up on that idea!"
"Also, show loyalty to Robert, you must do this well!"
...Almost at the same time, another raven flew over the Neck and arrived at Winterfell.
Catelyn Tully unfolded the letter.
Looking at her sister's familiar handwriting, her blue eyes first showed worry, then turned into deep disappointment and sorrow.
She knew her sister better than anyone.
Obsessive, selfish, easily swayed by emotions.
Catelyn had seen her almost pathological infatuation with Petyr Baelish since childhood.
Now, this infatuation had finally pushed her and the entire Vale into the abyss of destruction.
Catelyn did not hesitate for a moment.
She was not the brainless fool that Lysa was.
Her love for Stark was no less than her love for House Tully!
Petyr's death, she had always regarded him as a younger brother, and Catelyn was equally sad about his death!
But she absolutely did not agree with Lysa's crazy ideas!
Petyr's death was his own doing for murdering Lord Arryn; he failed to win the trial by combat, and even the Seven Gods were not on his side!
Catelyn walked to the desk, dipping her pen in ink.
Her reply was even shorter and colder than her father's.
"Lysa, put an end to your madness."
"Ned is my husband, Stark is my family."
"Winterfell will always stand with Lynn."
"If you insist on being an enemy of the North."
"Then next time, we will meet on the battlefield."
"At that time, I will not remember any sisterly affection between us!"
She finished writing, and without even a second glance, sealed the letter and handed it to Maester Luwin, who was waiting nearby.
Only when the black raven disappeared into the gray horizon did Catelyn feel a surge of weakness.
She leaned against the window sill, looking at the vast snowfield outside, and her eyes involuntarily reddened.
She slowly knelt to the ground, covering her face and weeping bitterly...
The Eyrie.
When two stern letters of refusal were placed before Lysa Arryn, the confidence and composure on her face completely collapsed.
"No... impossible..."
She muttered to herself, reading the two thin sheets of paper over and over again.
Her father's decisiveness and her sister's lack of understanding were like two resounding slaps, fiercely striking her face and shattering all her illusions.
How dare they?
How dare they refuse me?!
I am his daughter! I am her sister!
A furious rage of betrayal instantly overwhelmed her reason!
"Ah--!"
Lysa let out a shrill scream, sweeping everything off the table.
Golden goblets and silver plates rolled and collided on the floor, making a harsh noise.
"Traitors! All of them are traitors!"
She roared wildly in the room like a trapped beast.
"Old fossil! Do you think you're still the Lord of Riverrun? You should have died long ago! Why aren't you dead yet!"
"If you don't help me, your daughter will die!"
"I'll be torn apart by Robert!"
Lysa maliciously cursed her father.
"And you, Catelyn!"
"For a Stark, for an outsider, you would turn your sword against me?"
"Good! Very good!"
The huge commotion alarmed the guards outside the door, and also the Vale nobles who had just sworn allegiance.
They stood outside the door, listening to the furious curses coming from inside, exchanging glances, the color draining from their faces little by little.
It seemed they had... truly boarded a pirate ship.
"Bronze Yohn" Royce had even made plans to defect to Robert.
He had no need to die with Lysa.
Lysa's anger lasted for a full quarter of an hour before gradually subsiding.
She stood in the center of the mess, her chest heaving violently.
On her twisted face, there was only a destructive madness.
Before the war even began, she had already lost the most important battle.
Without the support of the The Riverlands, without an inside man in the North, all she had left were the jackals of the Iron Islands, who could turn on her at any moment.
What should she do?
Admit her failure to the nobles?
And then wait for them to mutiny, depose her from the throne, and hand her over to that drunkard Robert?
No!
Absolutely not!
She didn't want to die yet!
She hadn't avenged Petyr yet!
This war must be fought!
Even if it meant facing pressure from everyone, it had to be fought!
Whoever disobeyed, she would kill them until they obeyed!
A hint of ruthlessness flashed in Lysa Arryn's eyes.
She slowly straightened up, wiped the tears from her face, and tidied her disheveled hair and robes.
When she opened the door again, her face was once again adorned with that confident and arrogant smile.
As if everything that had just happened had never occurred.
"My lords and ladies,"
She looked at the nobles outside the door, all with different expressions.
"My father and sister have agreed to my plan."
"They just need some time to gather their armies."
This was absolutely a lie!
Just now, she had been cursing wildly in the room, she must have been rebuffed.
But at this moment, no one dared to question her.
Whoever dared to speak up would be pushed out the Moon Door on the spot, to be smashed to pieces!
But openly, they might not resist Lysa, but behind her back, it wouldn't be up to Lysa to decide!
Lysa's gaze swept across their faces.
"Lady Waynwood, you are in charge of logistics. Within a month, I want to see enough provisions to support an army of twenty thousand for three months!"
...She issued orders one by one, methodically, as if everything was under control.
The nobles left to carry out their commands.
Soon, only Lysa and her simple-minded son, who was still sucking his thumb, remained in the great hall.
Lysa slowly walked back to the throne and sat down.
She looked at the bottomless sea of clouds outside the window, her mad eyes filled only with cold killing intent.
Father... Sister... Since you refuse to help me.
Then don't blame me for being ruthless.
She leaned down and whispered into her son's ear in a devilish tone.
"Little Robert, my sweet baby, do you want to go see Grandpa?"
"Grandpa has lots of delicious fish there..."
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