Chapter 9 : The Funeral (2)

(10 days later)

A sharp knock broke the silence of William's room. His eyes snapped open, quickly adjusting to the dim light that crept through the window's edge. The dawn had arrived. With eagerness, he threw aside his blanket, his body already springing into action, as if he was racing against some unseen clock. There was no sluggishness in his movements, he jumped from the bed, his dressing gown loosely hanging around him, and hurried to the door. In the meantime, the knocks continued in regular succession.

With an absent-minded motion, William struck the door gently, the sound ringing out clearly. As if in a silent understanding, the knocking from the other side ceased immediately. William, now fully awake, moved swiftly across the room toward the large wooden chest resting near his bed. He threw it open, revealing neatly folded garments inside. His eyes scanned the contents, assessing each piece as he removed his dressing gown, tossing it aside with little care.

Within moments, he picked his outfit, his selection influenced by the tasks he intended to complete today rather than aesthetic appeal. He got dressed swiftly, pulling on a dark, modest tunic with a belt, followed by simple breeches and boots, each item reflecting the practical sense of someone with greater things on his mind than his appearance.

As he tightened his belt, the room came into focus, a space devoid of personality and warmth. No tapestries hung from the walls, no ornate furnishings graced the corners. The room held only the essentials. A small bed, a nightstand, and the large wooden chest at its foot. Opposite the bed stood an imposing desk, stacked high with books and rolls of parchment. Though the area seemed chaotic, there was a methodical arrangement, as if everything had a reason to be there and every paper was carefully placed. The room was not meant for comfort or decoration, it was a space dedicated to focus, efficiency, and the pursuit of a single goal.

Now fully dressed, William moved to the door, retrieving a small comb from his nightstand and dragging it through his messy hair as he turned the handle. Standing on the other side of the threshold were two guards stationed at the entrance to his chambers. The men straightened their posture as William stepped into the corridor.

"Have a nice day." William offered casually, but there were no further exchanges. One of the guards had knocked merely to ensure he awoke at the proper time, nothing more. His day had begun.

[William's POV]

I made my way through the courtyard toward the stables where Edric and Roderick were sleeping on makeshift straw beds, tucked away near the back wall. As I approached, the low chuckles of nearby servants and guards reached my ears. They were used to this by now. I wasn't one for gentle wake-ups, especially when there was work to be done.

I kicked the edge of their 'beds' one after the other, "Up." I said, my voice sharp but not unfriendly. Both boys jerked awake, their eyes wide and confused for a moment. The guards and servants chuckled again. I didn't wait for them to fully wake up. I turned and started walking. They would catch up. Or they wouldn't.

I heard Edric's muffled groan, followed by the sound of him stumbling out of the straw, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. Roderick, though, was already moving, quick on his feet. He was by my side in seconds, no complaints, no hesitation. I liked that about him, he didn't waste time.

"Thank you." Roderick said, his voice low, almost hard to hear. It wasn't the kind of thanks that came with smiles or easy expressions, but I knew he meant it, "I know you're trying to help us. Even if Edric doesn't see it yet."

I didn't get the chance to answer before Edric caught up, his face twisted in frustration, "What's the plan today?" He asked, his tone filled with barely hidden anger, "More reading? More counting? Or something else that's a waste of time when we should be learning to fight?"

I couldn't help but laugh. The kid was mad, and he had every reason to be, but I wasn't going to let him get away with that tone, not without a little pushback.

"Hypocrisy suits you, Edric." I said, looking over my shoulder with a grin, "You think I'm just another entitled noble brat, but look at me, feeding you, clothing you, giving you shelter, and yet you act like it means nothing. At least I know how to show appreciation for the people who look after me. Sure, I have my own reasons for helping you, but there's also just plain kindness in it. Heard of that concept before?"

Edric didn't answer. He just clammed up, his lips pressing into a tight line as he moved along, reluctantly keeping up with us. Good. He needed to learn when to hold his tongue. Or maybe he didn't respond because he had no idea what 'hypocrisy' even meant. Either way, it worked.

We continued in silence for a while, the only sounds coming from the stones beneath our boots. As we reached a particular hallway, I stopped in front of a door and turned to Roderick, "I need you to make a quick stop here, that's where the butcher is." I explained, "I ordered something to him. Pick it up and meet us in the kitchens."

Roderick nodded quickly, then knocked on the door before disappearing inside to fetch the order.

I continued walking, Edric now trailing behind me, his steps slow and hesitant, "Why are we going to the kitchens?" He asked, sounding suspicious, maybe thinking I was dragging him into some dull task, which I was.

I shrugged, "The cooks are struggling to keep up now that all the Riverlords have arrived." I said, "They are not used to feeding this many people at once. We are going to help them out a bit."

Edric's face twisted with reluctance, clearly not thrilled about the idea. I raised an eyebrow at him, "What's the matter Edric? You think you are above that too? What's your excuse? Even I, a noble's son, doesn't mind getting his hands dirty though."

His jaw clenched, but he stayed quiet. That was twice now. Good. He was learning.

As we reached the door to the kitchens, I could hear the busy sounds of clattering dishes and shouting voices behind it. I paused for a moment, giving Edric a quick look.

We finally reached the kitchen doors, and I paused for a moment, giving Edric a sidelong glance, "Prepare yourself. It's going to be a long day."

I pushed open the doors, and the noise hit us immediately ; Clattering dishes, shouting voices, the smells of bread and roasting meats filling the air. At least twenty women rushed around, stirring pots, chopping vegetables, calling out orders to one another. It was chaos, organized in its own way, but chaos nonetheless.

I spotted a woman rushing past with empty hands and caught her arm before she could slip away, "I need ingredients." I said quickly, listing off what I needed for the dish I had in mind.

The further I went down my list, the wider her eyes grew with panic, "I'm sorry, m-my lord." She stammered, "But Gerda's given me a mountain of work, and if I don't finish it, she'll have my head!"

"Go to Gerda, tell her it's for me." I said, offering a small smile, "She will understand."

The woman nodded, clearly relieved to be able to put the blame on me if need be, and hurried off. My eyes flicked toward Gerda at the back, where her sturdy figure loomed over the others as she barked instructions. Her broad shoulders and thick arms, combined with her no-nonsense expression, made it clear she was in charge. Her apron, smeared with stains, revealed the toll of a long, grueling day, suggesting she hadn't left the kitchen since at least last night given her usual attention to cleanliness and the fact that dawn had only just broken. Definitely not someone to trifle with

As expected, Gerda stormed toward me moments after the girl started talking to her, her face flushed with irritation. I stood my ground, even knowing that her temperament could be unpredictable.

"Young lord, I always appreciated your interest in our kitchen work." She said with barely concealed frustration, "But today's not the time for your games."

I met her gaze without flinching, "I'm not here to be a burden, Gerda. I'm here to make your day easier. Three extra pairs of hands could make all the difference. Who knows, you might actually get some sleep tonight. So, let me take some of the work off your plate."

Just as I finished speaking, Roderick walked in, carrying the minced meat I had sent him to get in a cloth. I gave Gerda a guilty look, "I may have gotten a little ahead of myself on the preparations of my dish. Still, I could have sent the girl straight for the ingredients, but I had her come to you first, out of respect, knowing you might deny my help and use what my friend brought for something else. I trust you will appreciate my honesty."

Gerda stood still for a few seconds, her sharp eyes studying me. Finally, she relented with a nod, "I can't waste more time, so, fine." She said gruffly, "Take a corner of the kitchen and don't get in anyone's way. Help when asked, and..."

"... And I won't let my family or anyone else know that I went here to get my hands dirty." I finished for her, knowing exactly what she was going to say.

Satisfied, Gerda turned back to oversee the rest of the cooks, leaving me to my task. I caught the eye of the girl from earlier and gave her a nod. She smiled and rushed off to gather the ingredients I had requested.

Turning to face Roderick and Edric, I gave them a smirk, "Alright, boys. Time to cook."

(12 hours later)

The grand hall of Riverrun buzzed with murmurs, the voices of lords mingling with the clink of goblets and the scrape of utensils. At the center, the major lords of the Riverlands sat around a massive table, while those of lesser houses occupied smaller tables at the edges, their seating a clear reflection of their lower standing. A clear display of the hierarchy at work, and everyone present understood it.

At the head of the grand table, as expected, was my uncle, with his family gathered closely around him. My father sat to his right, silent but always watchful, while Minisa was on his left, trying to keep a calm smile as she soothed an irritable 5 name days Cathelyn and 3 name days Lysa. As for me, I was sitting next to my father, quietly observing the scene, taking in every detail.

Hoster's seating arrangements were deliberate, revealing his thoughts on his bannermen. Lord Bracken was placed far from Lord Blackwood, their ancient feud dictating their distance, though both were seated equidistant from Hoster, a calculated balance. Their exchanged glares throughout the meal were unmistakable, each glance a reminder of their mutual hatred. The Vance lords of Atranta and Wayfarer's Rest were similarly separated but still kept close to House Tully, another careful act of diplomacy.

Walder Frey, already ancient and as smug as ever, was seated neither too close nor too far from Hoster. It was a subtle nod to his power but also a reminder that he wasn't trusted. His beady eyes darted around the room, always calculating, never at ease. 

The remaining seats were filled by the likes of Lord Mallister, known for his unbending loyalty, and Lord Whent, Minisa's cousin. They were the nearest to Hoster, a reflection of their strong ties to our House. As I watched, the dynamics between the lords became clear. Each seat revealed alliances, grudges, and tensions beneath the surface.

My gaze drifted to the feast laid out before us. The beef-stuffed ravioli, a dish I had personally prepared with my sous-chefs Roderick and Edric, was met with approving nods from the lords. It was a small test, slipping recipes from my old world into the meals of the nobility to gauge their reception. Over the past two years, Gerda and I had worked tirelessly to refine our techniques, adding subtle touches to elevate Riverrun's kitchen. The table was now a testament to that journey ; Roasted game covered in rich, spiced sauces, and vegetables that had been artfully crafted into sides, making the lords comment on the unique, yet delicious, taste of everything.

But it wasn't only the food that caught their attention. Polished silver goblets, vibrant fruits from the Summer Isles, and a richness in the wine hinted at new trade routes and growing prosperity. These details were not lost on our guests ; They were reminders of House Tully's rising status, a far cry from the more modest days of the past.

As the hall filled with the murmur of conversation, Hoster rose to his feet, raising his hand for silence. The effect was immediate. The chatter ceased, and the room became still. I noticed the faint smirk on Hoster's face, he enjoyed this, the power of commanding attention with a simple gesture.

"My lords." Hoster began, his voice clear and confident, "We gather tonight not just to mourn my father's passing, but to look ahead. His death marks a turning point, a moment to reflect on where we are and where we are headed."

I glanced around the table, watching the reactions. The lords sat straight, their eyes fixed on Hoster. Even the normally dismissive Lord Bracken and Walder Frey were attentive, though the expression of the later remained unreadable.

"We are at a turning point." Hoster continued, his gaze sweeping the hall, "House Tully has grown. Our coffers are full, and our reach extends further than it once did. But this is no time to rest. It is a time to build."

His eyes flicked briefly to Walder Frey, though he didn't linger there, "The Crown, under Tywin Lannister as Hand of the King, seeks to invest in the infrastructure of Westeros. I'm talking about roads, bridges, trade routes. And where better to begin than the Riverlands, the heart of the realm?"

There were nods of approval from the lords around the table. The Riverlands were the crossroads of Westeros, vital for connecting the North, the South, and the West. Hoster's plan was clear ; He intended to seize this moment, to ensure House Tully's wealth would benefit not just our family but the entire region.

"I propose." Hoster's voice grew louder, more commanding, "That we embark on a project to build proper roads throughout the Riverlands. From the largest towns to the smallest villages, every corner of our lands will be connected. Trade will flow, our people will prosper, and no House will be left behind."

Many lords nodded in agreement, clearly excited about the prospect. Roads would enable trade, and where trade flowed, wealth followed. Hoster's proposal to connect the Riverlands with a network of roads struck a chord with them. It was a crucial step toward uniting the region. It would bind the land together, enhance trade routes, ensure that wealth would move more fluidly through our domains and facilitate the movement of our armies. This was the kind of foresight Hoster was skilled at, a plan meant to elevate both our House and the Riverlands as a whole.

But one person in particular was not as enthusiastic as the overwhelming majority, Walder Frey's silence stood out like a stain on an otherwise clean canvas. His power had always come from his control of the Twins, the bridge that everyone needed to cross the Green Fork. The moment those roads started cutting across the Riverlands, offering alternative routes, House Frey's precious tolls would lose some of their shine. I didn't miss the way his fingers drummed on the table, nor the sharp glint in his eyes. It was subtle, but to me, it was clear. He wasn't pleased. And that made things interesting.

I leaned back, my hands resting on the arms of my chair, my mind already spinning with possibilities. Walder Frey would not sit idly by while we were building something that could diminish his power. He was too shrewd for that, too cautious. He would try to find a way to get his piece of the pie, or more likely, to try and stop the pie from being baked in the first place.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of conversations, the lords toasting Hoster's proposal, some already discussing how the roads could benefit their own holdings. But I kept my eye on Walder Frey, waiting for the inevitable moment when he would reveal his intentions.

It wouldn't be long. He was many things, but patient wasn't one of them.

As the feast drew to a close and the lords began to retire to their chambers, I caught my father's eye. He gave me a nod, knowing full well what was on my mind. We didn't need words to communicate ; Our understanding was built on years of silent observations and shared instincts. House Frey was going to be a problem, and my father knew it just as well as I did.

Tomorrow, we will begin to see the ripple effects of Hoster's announcement. The idea of roads was good, but the execution would be a different matter. Alliances would shift, rivalries would flare, and the power dynamics of the Riverlands would be tested.