The Person Inside the Shell

In Riverrun's great hall, the charcoal in the braziers burned bright red.

The heavy oak doors were shut tight, sealing out the roar of the Tumblestone and the Red Fork, leaving only the heavy breathing of several hundred men within the hall.

More than a hundred men in mismatched armor knelt on the cold stone floor at the center of the hall.

Their armor varied wildly—some wore old chainmail, while others wore pieced-together plate armor captured during this war.

Most of them bore no distinguished coat of arms, only crude symbols on their chests representing the houses they had founded themselves, glaringly conspicuous beneath the candlelight.

They were the hedge knights and landed knights Suleiman had knighted, all now commanders of a defeated army.

Along both sides of the hall stood the lords and knights of the Riverlands, clad in finely crafted armor.

Their hands rested on their sword hilts as they stared fixedly at the defeated commanders kneeling on the ground, their eyes filled with undisguised contempt and hatred.

Edmure Tully sat in the seat of honor, his expression grave.

His uncle, Brynden Tully—the Blackfish—stood before the steps in black scale armor, looking down at the dejected prisoners.

The knight at their head raised his head, his voice low.

"Greetings, Lord Edmure."

The knights behind him spoke in unison as well, their voices scattered and weary.

Brynden Tully laughed, his laughter echoing through the hall.

"Since Lord Tytos Blackwood has vouched for you, rise."

The knights hesitated, then slowly got to their feet, though they still kept their heads bowed and did not dare meet anyone's eyes.

Brynden Tully paced down the steps and slowly walked before them, his gaze inspecting every man in turn.

"I had only heard of your bravery before. Now I have come to understand