Ser Andar Royce's face was ashen with anger.
He was Bronze Yohn's eldest son and the rightful heir to House Royce.
More than a dozen knights of the Vale exchanged uneasy glances, their hands wavering on their sword hilts.
They were the pride of the Vale, sworn vassals of House Arryn, not a band of brigands who abducted their own kin!
Andar Royce's brow furrowed.
He urged his horse a step forward and bowed to Lysa, his voice carrying the composure and resolve of a man born to a great house.
"My lady, forgive me for speaking plainly."
"Lord Edmure is your own brother, the protector of Riverrun and the Riverlands."
"We came here to forge an alliance, as you agreed with us beforehand, not to launch a vile surprise attack like this."
"The honor of House Royce will not permit me to turn my sword against an ally, much less your own kin."
He invoked House Royce, the ancient house that had stood in the Vale for a thousand years, proud of its bronze and runes.
His father, Bronze Yohn, was the most respected lord in the Vale and one of the staunchest supporters of House Stark and House Arryn.
Andar's words made the knights around him waver even further.
They revered Bronze Yohn's reputation and believed just as deeply in a knight's honor.
"Honor?"
Lysa burst into hysterical laughter.
Her laughter echoed across the empty riverbank, startling a flock of waterbirds into flight.
"Can honor bring back my Petyr?"
"Can honor make Jon Arryn climb out of his grave?"
Her laughter stopped abruptly, leaving nothing but viciousness on her twisted face.
"Honor is a dirge sung for the dead!"
"Ser Andar, I command you again: seize him!"
"Otherwise, you are rebelling against House Arryn!"
"My allegiance is to