Sorrow hung in the air of Riverrun.
Duke Hoster Tully's funeral was held according to the oldest traditions of the Riverlands.
House Tully ruled the Riverlands, and both their power and their lives sprang from the Trident.
Thus, a river burial symbolized the dead returning at last to become part of the lifeblood of this land.
Every wave returned to the river in the end.
Duke Hoster's body lay in a small boat carved with trout emblems.
His sword and shield rested at the bow as the boat drifted slowly down a tributary of the Tumblestone River.
On the riverbank, House Tully's vassals and knights stood in solemn silence, their black mourning clothes snapping in the river wind.
Edmure Tully stood at the front.
His father was dead, and he was now Duke of Riverrun.
The title weighed on him like a mountain, almost crushing the breath from his lungs.
According to tradition, he would personally send his father on his final journey.
An attendant offered him a longbow and an arrow with oil-soaked fletching.
Edmure took the bow and lit the arrowhead.
The dancing flames reflected in his blue eyes, so like Lysa's, but his gaze was utterly blank.
His father's boat had already reached the middle of the river.
Every eye was fixed on him.
Edmure drew a deep breath and pulled back the bowstring.
Whoosh-
The arrow flew from the string.
It traced a crooked arc through the air and plunged into the river more than a dozen meters from the boat with a faint hiss.
Dead silence settled over the riverbank.
Everyone lowered their eyes, pretending they had seen nothing.
Edmure's face instantly turned a dark, purplish red.
He felt hundreds of gazes stabbing into his back like needles.
Gritting his teeth, he all but