Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day - Chapter 258: Changes in Riverrun City

The two Tully brothers ordered their knights to resume the duel, their eyes never leaving Rhaegar’s cold, unflinching expression.

Moments later, one of the knights swung his longsword and pointed it at his opponent’s throat, securing victory. The priests standing beside Milov immediately clasped their hands in silent prayer.

Rhaegar frowned, contemplating the involvement of the Faith of the Seven in this succession dispute.

“Prince, those priests are Milov’s allies,” Elmo whispered, approaching with trepidation.

Rhaegar was skeptical. “The contest for heirship should be based on individual merit. What use does Milov have for the Faith of the Seven?”

Elmo clenched his teeth, his voice filled with anger. “The priests have declared their support for Milov’s claim. They’ve even sent a raven to the main church in Oldtown. They’re waiting for my grandfather to die so they can back Milov’s ascension.”

He tightened his fists, muttering bitterly, “Those meddling priests.”

Succession was an internal matter of the Tully family; the Faith of the Seven had no right to interfere. It was likely that Milov had promised the priests a large donation once he inherited Riverrun, to persuade them to support his claim.

As the conversation continued, the two contestants chose new opponents for the next duel. Milov selected a tall knight armed with a longsword and shield. Edmure, his face grim, brought forth his father-in-law, Lord Lymond.

Rhaegar watched in confusion. “What is the purpose of these duels?”

The duels seemed disorganized, with knights just slashing at each other without clear rules or goals.

Elmo sighed, “They measure strength by the number of knight victories. Whoever wins more duels is considered superior.”

“That’s it?” Rhaegar was incredulous.

“That’s it,” Elmo confirmed, his tone filled with helplessness. The two uncles, instead of using their power effectively, were staging meaningless duels to assert their dominance.

“What a pair of hopeless fools!” Rhaegar muttered. Had he had their resources, he would have eliminated his rival and taken Riverrun after old Tully’s death. Instead, they engaged in this pointless show of force.

The duel began. Lord Lymond attacked first, swinging his heavy sword with both hands and forcing his opponent to retreat. Seizing an opportunity, he found a gap in his opponent’s armor and struck decisively.

Poof!

The tall knight’s arm was severed at the shoulder, blood gushing from the wound.

“Next!”

Lord Lymond’s eyes were cold and unfeeling, his sword resting against the ground.

Milov stared, wide-eyed, unable to believe that an old lord, nearing fifty, could be so formidable.

Lord Lymond was past his prime, with gray hair and sideburns, and a face lined with wrinkles. Yet he fought with the vigor of a much younger man.

Soon the next opponent stepped forward. Lord Lymond responded with ease, swinging his heavy sword with such force that his opponent struggled to counter.

Finally, Lord Lymond sliced through his opponent’s breastplate. The man fell and died in a pool of his own blood.

In Westeros, armor varies greatly in quality. The most expensive suits are thick and sturdy, leaving little room for weak points. Cheaper armor, however, often more ornate and impressive looking, has numerous weaknesses.

Lord Lymond’s armor was an ancestral treasure, marked with countless slashes, but well maintained. In contrast, many of the second sons of nobles and lesser knights recruited by Milov and Edmure could only afford substandard armor and weapons.

To Lord Lymond’s experienced eye, their equipment was riddled with flaws.

The duel continued. Lord Lymond cut down four knights in a row before his breathing became labored. Satisfied with his performance, he stepped back, leaving the lesser men to continue their bickering.

Rhaegar, uninterested in the proceedings, beckoned Elmo to join him at the entrance to the Godswood.

“Prince, what are your orders?” Elmo asked cautiously.

Rhaegar’s irritation flared. Thinking of the two worse Tullys in the Godswood, he could only grit his teeth and accept the situation.

“Come here!” Rhaegar grabbed Elmo by the neck, his eyes boring into him, his voice icy. “Old Tully is gravely ill, and your two uncles are busy vying for power. These are your family’s affairs, and I will not interfere.”

“Prince…” Elmo was shocked by the news and his expression changed.

“Shut up!” Rhaegar’s face hardened, his words slow and deliberate. “Go back to the Godswood, see your two uncles, and use your rusty brain to think about what you want to do, what you should do!”

He released Elmo, who stood stunned. Leaving Grey Worm with him, Rhaegar returned to the main tower with a few Unsullied.

Elmo remained frozen, staring blankly at Rhaegar’s retreating back and muttering, “My… thoughts?”

He looked down at his hands, calloused from practicing with sword and bow. After a moment, he raised his head and met Grey Worm’s impassive eyes.

At that moment, determination filled Elmo’s eyes. Remembering his grandfather’s advice before he fell ill, Elmo rubbed his face, his breathing accelerating.

Grey Worm stood motionless, like an emotionless wooden figure.

…

The duel in the Godswood continued into the afternoon.

Two of Tully’s knights suffered grievous wounds, and their bodies were carried out of the forest one by one. In the end, Edmure triumphed over Milov with a decisive victory. Milov’s face darkened, his eyes burning with rage.

The death of his older brother should have made him the heir. With the old man now seriously ill, his chance had finally come.

…

Nightfall.

Edmure, basking in his victory, hosted a banquet and drank heavily with his knights. Unbeknownst to him, changes were afoot in Riverrun under the cover of darkness.

With old Tully incapacitated, the castle’s affairs had been divided between his two sons. Milov controlled the vaults and warehouses, while Edmure oversaw the arsenal and the garrison. Though they avoided direct confrontation, the tension between them escalated.

Dark clouds shrouded the sky, obscuring the crescent moon. The cold winds of early spring blew through Riverrun, stirring the waters of the river.

“Move faster, don’t get caught.”

“Be ruthless, don’t waste time…”

In the dim night, a group of black-robed men emerged from the main tower, heading toward the weapons storehouse and garrison. Others made their way to the secondary fortress where Edmure was hosting his feast.

Meanwhile, in one of Riverrun’s basements, several garrison soldiers entered, their flickering torches casting eerie shadows.

“My lords, I have a matter to discuss,” a figure in black robes said, stepping forward and removing his hood to reveal short black hair.

…

Main Tower, Lord’s Room.

Rhaegar entered with a tray of fruit, flanked by several Unsullied.

“Prince!”

Two Knights stood guard.

“Don’t mind me, I’m here to see Lord Grover,” Rhaegar said, not giving the knights a chance to refuse as he pushed the door open.

The knights hesitated for a moment, but finally allowed him to enter.

…

The entrance to the armory.

Thud-

Black-robed men lunged forward, slitting the throats of the two patrolling soldiers. A similar scene unfolded near the warehouse. As soon as the guards changed shifts, the men in black approached under the cover of night and dispatched them with swift, deadly blows.

“Done, let’s move!”

The leader of the black-robed men wiped the blood from his dagger and motioned for his companions to leave.

Whoosh…

Before the words fully left his mouth, a volley of arrows flew from the shadows. The black-robed men fell, struck down with screams of agony.

A military commander emerged from the darkness, flanked by dozens of soldiers.

“Dispose of the bodies and clean up the bloodstains,” he ordered coldly.

“Yes, sir!”

The soldiers swiftly removed the corpses and began scrubbing the ground with buckets and mops.

…

Main Tower, a bedroom on the third floor.

Milov lay sprawled on a large bed, two heavily made-up prostitutes in his arms. Half-asleep, he dreamt of old Tully’s death, his fat brother being hacked to pieces, and his nephew imprisoned. He envisioned himself as the new Lord Tully, Lord Paramount of the Trident and Lord of Riverrun.

Bang!

The door burst open, sending the two prostitutes screaming in terror. Milov jerked awake and scrambled to his feet.

“Who dares intrude in my room!” he bellowed.

“Uncle, your dreams are premature,” Elmo said, stepping inside in a black robe, his eyes cold.

Behind him, a group of armored soldiers rushed into the room, pushing the prostitutes aside and binding the naked Milov.

“What are you doing, Elmo? I’m your uncle!” Milov shouted, stunned.

“I don’t need to be reminded,” Elmo replied coldly. “Gag him and lock him in the dungeon.”

“Yes, my lord.”

A soldier punched Milov in the stomach, grabbed a prostitute’s stocking and stuffed it into his mouth before dragging him out like a dead dog.

…

On the other side, in a secondary fortress.

The black-robed men infiltrated the fortress gates, blending in with the night watchmen. Despite their best efforts, they were outnumbered and outgunned.

As the battle ended, the sound of footsteps echoed from outside.

“Assassins! Leave no one alive!”

Dozens of well-equipped soldiers stormed the gates, quickly dispatching the black-robed men.

In the midst of the soldiers, Grey Worm, now in standard leather armor, led a contingent up the stairs.

At that moment, Edmure lay asleep in his room, unaware of the danger.

Grey Worm paused at the door. Lord Lymond, heavily armed, stood guard, glaring at the group ascending the stairs.

…

The Next Day

The Great Hall of Riverrun.

Elmo sat in a chair, his face slightly haggard. He had taken the prince’s hint and gathered his father’s old knights to strike first. In one night, both of his uncles were imprisoned in the dungeon. The plan had gone surprisingly well, much to his disbelief.

Now, with his uncles under his control, he faced a new dilemma. What should his next move be? Should he eliminate them completely and bear the stain of kinslaying? And what about his grandfather, who was gravely ill? If the old man recovered and discovered that his uncles had been killed, how would he react?

These thoughts swirled in Elmo’s mind, making him fidget and rise from his seat in agitation. He decided that he had to see his grandfather; otherwise, he wouldn’t know what to do next.

With this resolve, he strode toward the Lord’s room on the top floor.

It wasn’t long before he reached the dimly lit corridor leading to the room. He saw two knights and several Unsullied guarding the door. None of them acknowledged him as he approached; they were entirely indifferent.

Elmo’s unease grew as he reached the door. Through the closed door, he could faintly hear a familiar voice.