The weather was gloomy and oppressive. Eddard walked through the castle's outer hall and returned to his Tower of the Hand.
Perhaps this place didn't truly belong to him; to Eddard, he was merely a transient in Winterfell.
Eddard entered his study and then called Jon over.
"Jon, there's an urgent matter I need to tell you about in advance," Eddard said.
"The King and I had a fight, and we're preparing to return to Winterfell."
Jon was startled, not expecting the argument to be so severe.
Eddard and the King's friendship was well-known; they were once close friends who had overthrown the Targaryen Dynasty together.
He hadn't expected that a fierce argument would now lead to their departure from King's Landing.
"My Lord, this news is too sudden; I'm afraid we'll need at least two weeks," Jon replied.
"I'm afraid we don't have two weeks; I'm not even sure we have one day.
The King even said he'd have my head on a spear," Eddard frowned.
Eddard never believed the King would harm him; he was just too angry.
But many other things weighed on his mind.
The King still harbored resentment towards Rhaegar, never forgetting what happened fifteen years ago.
There were also other troubles, like the matter of the dwarf.
Although the dwarf himself didn't want the news to spread, the message had already flown with the ravens.
The King might not care about the dwarf, but this incident had indeed wounded the King's pride, and the Queen was always arrogant.
Jon looked at Eddard's face, knowing that Lord Eddard rarely joked.
It seemed there was a significant conflict between Lord Eddard and the King.
"Then we could also choose to go by sea," Jon suggested.
"But Littlefinger manages the customs, so I'm afraid some rumors might leak out."
Eddard's eyes lit up.
Northerners were mostly unfamiliar with water, and he rarely traveled by sea.
But the situation was truly urgent now.
They could take a ship, perhaps stopping at Dragonstone, and talk to the perpetually gloomy Stannis.
Since returning to Dragonstone, he had ceased all contact with King's Landing.
Eddard knew he knew a lot, but Stannis simply refused to speak.
"Besides Littlefinger, has the dwarf told you anything else?" Eddard asked in a low voice.
Jon shook his head, "He just told me to be wary of Littlefinger; he never tells the truth."
"Alright, it seems it's safer for us to leave early.
I'll take you and a few guards first, and the others will follow once they're ready.
Besides you, only the steward and Captain Jory will know this information later, but the castle is full of watchful eyes, so this plan absolutely cannot be leaked," Eddard said.
Eddard realized he might not have belonged in King's Landing; Winterfell was his home.
He missed Winterfell.
He loved the snow of Winterfell, the deep silence of the Wolfswood.
His sons were waiting for him, and his Lady was there too.
"I understand, My Lord.
Speaking of Littlefinger, there's one more thing I think you need to know," Jon said in a low voice.
"What is it?" Eddard asked Jon.
Jon lowered his voice, controlling his emotions.
"On the day of the Tourney, Littlefinger saw Sansa and even played with her hair, saying a few words, but the distance was too far, and I didn't hear clearly."
"What?" Eddard's eyes widened sharply.
This Littlefinger, he was far too bold.
"That's how it was, but what exactly he said, you might have to ask Sansa."
"Good, I understand this matter," Eddard nodded.
Eddard's brows were furrowed.
It seemed that, like Robert, someone was still dwelling on the past.
What else was hidden behind Littlefinger's smile?
His full support for him was simply absurd.
Eddard told Jon to wait there while he went to see Sansa.
"Damn it!" Eddard returned to the study fuming.
"That girl didn't even tell me!"
"Do you still remember what Arya said?" Jon asked Eddard.
Eddard nodded.
He naturally remembered Arya's words and was surprised Jon remembered them so clearly.
"Arya heard everything in the secret tunnel."
"You believe those things are true?" Eddard asked Jon.
"Yes, Arya is my sister, and I believe she would never lie.
Sometimes adults are not as wise as children," Jon nodded, those words still filled him with fear.
"The two people in the shadows said they would kill you, My Lord.
They also said you found the bastard and got the book.
Since the first Hand could die, the second Hand could naturally die too.
A fat man with a yellow forked beard and rings on his hands said to stall for time, and the other one in armor said he couldn't perform magic, and that the wolf and the lion would soon kill each other, and everything was messed up.
Oh, and the one in armor also said the prince had no Child, but they had to deal with the Khal, and their actions had to be swift."
Jon's meticulous analysis forced him to respond cautiously.
King's Landing had other forces, besides the wolf and the lion, familiar with the secret tunnel of King's Landing, they were trying to contact Across the Narrow Sea.
"If those two people truly exist, they are most likely experts in secret tunnels," Eddard mused.
In King's Landing, two people were openly known to understand some secret tunnels: Varys, of course, and Littlefinger also knew some.
But now was not the time to worry about these Wights.
"My Lord, these matters are linked together.
The bastard is the core.
A bastard normally has no claim to inheritance.
However, Lord Arryn and Lord Stannis are both constrained by this, perhaps there are some extraordinary secrets within."
"You're right, but I still lack one example.
By rights, they also have a Brothel in King's Landing that I need to see."
"What do you think we should do?" Eddard asked.
"My Lord, Littlefinger is not to be trusted, and we have no foothold in King's Landing.
We and House Lannister are gradually becoming irreconcilable.
Haven't you noticed that in King's Landing, only Littlefinger is most enthusiastic towards you?
He often comes to see you.
But I don't think he will ever truly revere you, because of Lady Catelyn."
"Yes, Jon," Eddard thought for a moment.
"Optimism was my biggest mistake.
I never imagined my friends would be like this, nor did I imagine so many difficulties."
"I think instead of constantly fumbling and being restricted, it would be better for you to take the initiative, thoroughly confuse the situation, and then we withdraw to Winterfell," Jon said.
"How?" Eddard showed a little interest in Jon's suggestion.
But truly leaving King's Landing made Eddard feel somewhat angry and annoyed.
So many things were left unfinished.
If he left, Robert and his sycophants would ruin the country, even selling it to the Lannister to pay off debts.
He couldn't just stand by and watch the country he and his dearest friend had founded fall apart like this.
As for Lord Arryn's death, though it troubled him, he at least had some clues.
He just needed a little more time to find out which beast it was.
The beast was lurking, even if it was hidden and cunning, it would eventually surface.
"Then let's start with Littlefinger," Jon said in a low voice.
"Perhaps you are not suited to act, but I am willing.
If a son of the family fights for the honor of his elders, that is a very knightly thing to do, and you can use this to completely extricate yourself."
"This idea..." Eddard looked at Jon; it was a bit too bold.
"If it's for you and your family, what does a savage bastard matter?
Everything I am willing to do is for House Stark."
"Alright, Jon, what you said is very good, but I think if we can get a ship tomorrow and leave King's Landing, then everything will have nothing to do with us.
Get a ship, and we leave tomorrow."
At this moment, Eddard was very certain.
"A fast ship, an experienced vessel, to take us away quickly and safely."
Eddard no longer wanted to uncover any truths.
Eddard looked again at the dagger, the dagger that had harmed Bran, which had changed hands many times.
Catelyn had given it to him.
There were too many secrets, and this knife might not even belong to The Imp, but Eddard was tired.
At this point, he perhaps didn't want to interrogate the details of those spider webs anymore.
"As you command, My Lord," Jon nodded.
But Jon was still somewhat doubtful; Eddard was always hesitant, would he leave so easily?
Just as the two finished their conversation, Tomard announced another visitor.
"My Lord, Lord Baelish wishes to see you.
He seems very anxious."
...Catelyn felt like crying, but she couldn't.
Catelyn knew for whom her tears flowed: Bran, her two absent daughters, and the five people who had died on the way to The Eyrie.
The blood still danced before her eyes, but Catelyn told herself to be strong; she was the Lady of Winterfell.
Because The Imp had been rescued, she had to face an even worse outcome; the retaliation from Casterly Rock and the Lannister would come immediately.
She had to unite with her sister, Lysa.
"My Lady, you have suffered too much on this journey, but these Hill Tribesmen have paid an even greater price.
These Hill Tribesmen are indeed troublesome; they are very familiar with the terrain and are accustomed to guerrilla warfare, like a gust of wind," Ser Donnel of the Vale said.
He was a twenty-year-old man, robust in physique, and though ugly in appearance, he was sincere, with a broad nose and a mass of unruly brown hair.
"Yes, Ser.
Those Hill Tribesmen have poor armor and carry rusty weapons, but alas, they are indeed like a gust of wind," Catelyn replied; these were all things she had witnessed firsthand.
The High Mountain Clans of the Mountains of the Moon were a poor people, with very low-quality weapons and armor.
They lived by raiding nearby villagers, and regardless of the identity of the newcomers, if there was no guard, they would attack anyway.
They stole all the food, weapons, and women they could.
They rode small horses to adapt to the narrow mountain roads.
For a long time, the High Mountain Clans of the Mountains of the Moon had been the great enemy of The Vale, and many a Lord Arryn had died in wars with the wildlings.
Had it not been for urgent circumstances, Catelyn would never have taken this rapid path.
Catelyn continued with Ser Donnel, and they soon arrived before The Bloody Gate.
Defensive fortifications already appeared ahead.
Long battlements were built on the precipices on both sides, the mountain path narrowed to barely allow four people to ride abreast, and two watchtowers clung to the rock face, connected by a weathered gray stone enclosed arch bridge.
Silent faces watched them from the arrow slits, battlements, and stone bridge of the towers.
Catelyn couldn't help but revere the formidable defenses of The Bloody Gate.
In the Age of Heroes, countless armies perished here, yet the valley remained unconquered.
Near the summit, a Knight rode over to greet them.
The Knight's mount and armor were gray, but his cloak bore the vibrant blue and red pattern of Riverrun, and a glittering black fish, exquisitely crafted from gold and obsidian, was inlaid on his shoulder.
"Blue and red, these are the colors of Riverrun," Catelyn's eyes lit up, and past memories surfaced in her mind.
Riverrun was filled with blue and red banners, silver trout leaping on a red and blue striped background.
"Remember our family's motto, Cate: Family, Duty, Honor," her father, Lord Hoster, had once told her.
"Family, Duty, Honor, have I achieved it, Father?" Catelyn asked herself this, but she wasn't sure.
All the past events flashed before her eyes.
She had once been a Lady of House Tully, and now she was the Lady of Winterfell.
"Who wishes to pass through The Bloody Gate?" the welcoming Knight called out.
"Ser Donnel Waynwood, and Lady Catelyn and her companions," Ser Donnel replied.
The Knight of the Bloody Gate lifted his visor.
"I thought this Lady looked familiar.
Little Cate, you've come a long way from home."
"Uncle, haven't you too?" Despite all the hardships, Catelyn smiled from the heart.
Catelyn heard that hoarse, smoke-like voice, as if time had flowed back twenty years, taking her back to her childhood.
Compared to her busy father, Lord Hoster, and her sickly mother, Lady Mooton, the only one who accompanied them much and with whom they were familiar was this Uncle Brynden before her.
"I'm afraid after all these years, I still haven't gotten any better looking," Brynden Tully said, but when he lifted his helmet, Catelyn thought he was lying.
Though his face was weathered, time had stolen his auburn hair, leaving only gray, but his smile remained, his thick, caterpillar-like eyebrows remained, and the laughter in his deep blue eyes remained.
"Does Lysa know you're coming?"
"We didn't have time to notify her in advance," Catelyn told him.
At this moment, the others also caught up.
"Uncle, I'm afraid a storm is chasing me."
"Can we enter the valley?" Ser Donnel asked.
The Waynwoods were always particular about etiquette.
"In the name of the Lord of The Eyrie, Defender of The Vale of Arryn, and the true warden of the east, Robert Arryn, I grant you passage and ask you to maintain peace in his name," Ser Brynden replied.
"Go."
Catelyn keenly heard something different: "the true warden of the east."
It seemed Lysa resented the King's decision not to bestow the title on her son, and she surely hated the Lannister equally.
If that were the case, then she would have an even greater opportunity.
----------------------------------
I've already posted 40 new chapters on Patreon!
If you like the story and want to reaad more, please visit my patreon. Every support is very meaningful!
[patreon.com/Kazenova223]
Thank you very much!
"And If you're enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!"