The Eyrie.
The twilight was like blood, dyeing the long and narrow banquet hall a dark red.
The long table is covered with a blue and white striped tablecloth of House Arryn, with frayed edges and the family motto "As High as Honor" embroidered on it, but the letters have been blurred by countless washes.
Lysa·Tully sat at the main seat and pretended to eat, but the food in front of him did not decrease much. Instead, every once in a while he would pick up the wine glass in front of him and take a sip, and then his eyes would cross the long table and fall on Maiden opposite.
The look in it is very complicated.
Although Sansa is her niece, women are always jealous of younger and more beautiful women, not to mention that Sansa is so much like her mother.
Such a look seemed to make Sansa feel uncomfortable. He hardly moved the food in front of him and only took a few bites.
Lysa noticed this detail, and the corners of his mouth turned down slightly.
"Isn't it to your taste, Sansa?" Her voice sounded a little sharp.
"No, aunt."
Sansa raised his head, obediently like a little rabbit. "The food is very good, I'm just... not very hungry."
Petyr·Baelish sat on the right side of Lysa, with candlelight in his eyes, looking gently at the red-haired Maiden opposite.
His smile is impeccable.
"This dinner is just for our family, so there is no need to be formal."
Petyr gave a sigh of relief, then took the wine bottle and filled it up for Sansa: "Your aunt is always talking about you these days, saying that you have lost weight."
Seeing Petyr being so considerate to Sansa, Lysa almost couldn't hold back his attack, but remembering his previous reminder, he still forced a smile on his lips.
"Yes, Sansa!"
She deliberately raised her voice and tried to play the role of a good aunt and said warmly, "I heard that you must have suffered a lot after living in a place like Flea Bottom for so long."
As he said that, Lysa also pretended to point at the two black-armored knights behind Sansa, and scolded in a sharp voice, "Can't you guys who are an eyesore just stay away? This is a family banquet! A family banquet!"
But the knight turned a deaf ear.
This made Lysa feel very embarrassed and screamed even more angrily, "Can't you hear what I said? This is the Eyrie!"
The knight still didn't respond.
Seeing Lysa's face turned red, Sansa immediately spoke nervously to dissuade her, "Aunt, don't...
"They were just following orders. Lord Corleone sent them to protect my safety. If anything goes wrong, they won't be able to explain it when they go back."
"To keep you safe?"
Hearing this, Lysa raised his eyebrows very high. "The Eyrie is Seven Kingdoms's safest castle. Do you still need outsiders to protect you here?"
As she said that, she looked past Sansa and gave the two black-armored knights a fierce look.
"Tell them, this is Vale, not King's Landing!"
"I am the only one who has the final say here. Anyone who disobeys will be thrown out of Moon Door!"
However, facing Lysa's strong "protection", Sansa just lowered his head and unconsciously clenched the hem of his skirt with his fingers.
"I appreciate my aunt's kindness, but I'd better let them follow."
"Master Corleone... he is also worried about me."
"Worried about you?" Lysa sneered, "If he was really worried about you, why would he let you come to Vale alone?"
"Lysa." Regarding this matter, Petyr's voice rang out at the right time, as if to smooth things over. "Corleone has good intentions, so please don't embarrass Sansa."
He paused, his eyes fell on Sansa's face, and a meaningful arc appeared at the corner of his mouth.
"But...Sansa, if you think these people are in the way, I can help you get rid of them."
He deliberately emphasized his tone.
Sansa raised his head, and a trace of emotion seemed to flash in his blue eyes, but it quickly went out again.
"No need, Master Petyr."
The corners of her mouth raised slightly, revealing a standard smile, " Mr. Corleone is very good to me. He is very busy, but he always sends flowers to my room every day."
Lysa, however, disdainfully mocked. "I'll send you away with a few flowers. When did the daughter of the Tully family become so worthless?"
"Aunt, I..." After being scolded for a while, Sansa's eyes began to turn red.
"What are you?"
Lysa interrupted her, "You are not as good as your mother at all, Catelyn is at least much braver than you!"
"Stop talking!" Petyr's voice became a little heavier, but the curvature of the corners of his mouth became deeper. "Sansa is not easy at King's Landing either."
His words seemed to be relieving Sansa, but in fact they were provoking Lysa to get angry.
Sure enough, Lysa's face turned even more ugly when he said this.
"What's hard for her?"
"When my father married me to Jon·Arryn, that bad old man with almost all his teeth, I didn't cry like her!"
"Although the guy named Vito·Corleone was only born as Farmer, he became Hand of the King after all, and he is young and rich!"
The more she spoke, the more excited she became. The glass slammed down on the table, and the wine spilled out and soaked the tablecloth.
"Your life now is ten thousand times better than ours back then, and you are still crying here. Why are you dissatisfied?"
Sansa's eyes finally couldn't hold back the tears, and they rolled down one by one.
"Aunt, stop talking, please...
"Cry again, cry again!"
Seeing Sansa crying, Lysa felt inexplicably comfortable in his heart, and said sarcastically even more proudly, "I've heard it a long time ago. If it hadn't been for what you did at King's Landing, your father wouldn't have been beheaded by Joffrey!"
"You totally deserve what you are going through now!"
The moment these words were spoken, the air in the hall seemed to freeze.
Petyr picked up the wine glass and took a sip, covering the smile that could barely be suppressed at the corner of his mouth.
Sansa's tears flowed more fiercely, but she bit her lip and didn't make any sound.
The black-armored knights still stood where they were, seemingly not hearing anything at all.
"Okay, okay, stop crying!"
Lysa waved his hand proudly, as if chasing away an annoying fly. "Since you are married to Corleone, just stay with King's Landing and don't think about things all day long and make people laugh!"
As she spoke, she picked up the wine glass and took another sip.
"Your aunt is right."
At this time, Petyr also took over the conversation in a timely manner and coaxed, "Master Corleone is now Hand of the King. He has many things to do. He may not have that much time to accompany you, but you have to understand him."
He paused, picked up the wine flask, and filled the cup in front of Sansa with wine.
"Speaking of... What is Master Corleone busy with recently?"
"I heard that Randyll·Tarly said that he seems to be investigating some old cases, about the death of Mr. Jon·Arryn?"
Hearing Jon's name, Lysa, who originally wanted to say something sarcastic, immediately shut up and listened.
Sansa wiped his tears and raised his head, his blue eyes still covered with mist, and said blankly, "I don't know... Master Tarly did seem to have checked some things, but he was later stopped by Master Corleone."
"He said don't waste your energy on old things. There are more important things to deal with now."
The hall was quiet for a moment.
Lysa squeezed the wine glass with his fingers slightly, but there was no expression on his face.
"Old things from the past...
Petyr seemed to be relieved, leaning back in his chair with a faint smile on his face, "Master Corleone is right, let the past go by, there is no need to bring it up."
As he spoke, he even raised his wine glass towards Sansa.
"Come, let's drink to your wedding to Mr. Corleone."
Sansa picked up the wine glass, hesitated for a moment, and touched his glass lightly.
The wine entered the throat with a hint of bitterness.
When he heard that Corleone did not investigate the death of Jon·Arryn, Lysa immediately changed his previous enthusiastic reminiscing attitude and stood up decisively and coldly.
"I'm tired."
"Send me back to my room, Petyr."
Hearing this, Petyr immediately stood up without any hesitation, walked to her side, and naturally took her arm.
"Then we'll excuse you now."
His eyes fell on Sansa's face, his smile as gentle as ever, "You should also go to bed early and don't think too much."
Sansa stood up and bowed slightly.
Lysa didn't even look at her, he just took Petyr's arm and strode towards the door.
Petyr followed her, walking calmly, but there was an imperceptible hint of pride on the corner of her mouth.
Sure enough, it's still the same Sansa.
Naive, weak, and easily influenced by emotions.
At the dinner party, she couldn't control herself and had a conflict with Lysa. She cried like a child and couldn't even speak a complete sentence.
Moreover, she never mentioned the need to borrow troops from beginning to end.
If she was really here to help her Farmer husband, it would be impossible not to mention this matter. It seemed that she was indeed forced to do something.
Such Sansa cannot possibly have the brains to design to harm himself.
She was really desperate.
Petyr is an activist.
The next day, Randyll·Tarly received his invitation and went to the Eyrie hall to discuss matters.
Just when his patience was about to run out, footsteps finally came from the side door.
Petyr·Baelish strode in, followed by two Vale clerk-looking followers.
"I have kept you waiting for a long time, Master Tarly."
He sat down opposite Randyll, spread out his hands, and acted calmly like the real owner of this castle.
"Lady Lysa was feeling unwell last night, so I stayed with her very late. You know, women are sometimes more difficult to deal with than fighting."
Randyll didn't answer the question, just raised his eyelids and looked at him. "You came to me not just to show off your skills in bed, right, Master Petyr?"
"Of course."
Petyr nodded, and his expression became a little more serious. "Miss Sansa told me last night that Master Corleone wants Vale to send troops to support Iron Throne. There is no problem in this matter."
"After all, Vale is part of Seven Kingdoms, and it is our duty to be loyal to Iron Throne."
As he spoke, he changed the topic and pretended to be distressed. "But Mr. Tarly, you may not quite understand the dilemma Vale is facing now."
"What's the dilemma?" Randyll's brows furrowed even more.
Petyr did not answer directly, but motioned for the servant to come forward and spread a parchment map on the table.
Dozens of villages and strongholds around the Eyrie are marked on the map, and at least seven or eight of them are heavily marked with red ink circles.
"Mountain Clans." Petyr's finger fell on the red circles. "In the past month, these guys have been going down the mountain to plunder like crazy."
"In the past, they only made small fuss, stealing a few sheep, grabbing a few bags of grain and then running away."
"But perhaps because winter is approaching, they have recently begun to gather, ranging from dozens to hundreds of people."
"Many civilians and caravans were plundered, and two villages were even burned to the ground. All the villagers were slaughtered."
"This is Vale's business. What does it have to do with me?" Randyll·Tarly was puzzled.
Hearing this, Petyr sighed, "These clans have thrived in the mountains and forests for thousands of years. They are familiar with every mountain stream and cave than we are."
"If they continue to fight guerrillas like this, at least until the heavy snow covers the entire Mountains of the Moon, Vale won't be able to spare any manpower to help Iron Throne."
"So you want me to help you fight?" Randyll's eyes narrowed slightly.
"It would be in our best interest to resolve the problem as soon as possible."
Petyr's tone became more sincere, even with a hint of admiration. "As we all know, you are Westeros one of the most skilled commanders in fighting. Enemies like Mountain Clans should be no problem for you."
"Of course, you don't need to completely eliminate them. As long as you find the traces of the big bosses and kill them, the rest will disperse on their own."
"When the situation stabilizes, we will discuss sending troops to support Iron Throne."
Randyll·Tarly did not agree directly, but stared at the map for a long time, then raised his head and looked directly at Petyr with sharp eyes.
"How many people can you give me?"
"To be honest, Master Tarly, most of Vale's troops have been dispersed. There are actually not many knights that can be mobilized, only about thirty people."
Petyr sighed again and said sincerely, "So I'm afraid you have to bring your elite knights with you."
"They are all responsible for protecting Mrs. Sansa."
Randyll·Tarly neither agreed nor objected, but gave such an ambiguous answer.
Petyr didn't force it, but just pointed out. "To deal with mountain rats hiding in caves, elite soldiers are more effective than large armies."
Hearing this, Randyll thought about it for a long time.
"I need to ask Master Corleone for instructions on this matter."
"Of course." Petyr nodded. "I have already prepared the letter and can send it to King's Landing at any time."
"But soldiers are very fast. Master Tarly, Mountain Clans has been more and more active recently. The longer it is delayed, the greater their power will be."
"When those guys really come together as a force, I'm afraid it will turn from bandit suppression into a war."
This guy...
Randyll·Tarly snorted in disdain, but still pretended to hesitate and agreed, "I can take people there, but there is one condition."
"Please tell me."
"Before I come back, you must ensure the safety of Miss Sansa."
Hearing this, Petyr was stunned for a moment, and then laughed from the bottom of his heart.
"Master Tarly, what you said is beyond the pale!"
"Miss Sansa is not only the niece of Lady Lysa, but also the link between Vale and Iron Throne."
"She is safer here than anywhere else."