Love-addled minds were truly terrifying

"What?"

"One and a half million Gold Dragons!"

Nester Royce, High Steward of the Vale and Keeper of the Gates of the Moon, stood in the Eyrie's hall and demanded loudly, without the slightest regard for Lysa's dignity:

"With all due respect, Lady Lysa, that money would be enough to equip an army of over ten thousand!"

Nester had reason to be so agitated.

Ever since Jon Arryn had gone to King's Landing to serve as Robert's Hand of the King, he had practically become the de facto administrator of the Vale of Arryn.

The Vale's terrain was formidable, easy to defend and difficult to attack. But unlike Casterly Rock, which was likewise easy to defend and difficult to attack, the Vale was surrounded by the Mountains of the Moon, with only one road leading to the Riverlands, leaving it largely cut off from the outside world.

Such uniquely favorable geography made it almost impossible for enemies to conquer the Vale.

But it also meant the Vale was nowhere near as wealthy as the Lannisters. Compared with them, it could even be called terribly poor.

Having served as High Steward of the Vale for fourteen years, Nester naturally knew the hardships involved.

The Vale of Arryn, which had just lost its lord, had only just welcomed the widowed Lysa and her fatherless son Robin, and everyone was still immersed in grief.

Yet first thing that morning, Lysa had summoned the few of them and asked for one and a half million Gold Dragons-a sum large enough to virtually empty everything the Vale had accumulated over all these years!

"Ser Nester, I know this request is unreasonable."

Lysa Tully held Robin, already six years old, in her arms, openly baring her breast in front of everyone to nurse her beloved son.

Unlike her loathing for her husband Jon, Lysa, who had suffered countless miscarriages, doted excessively on this hard-won son and usually granted his every request.

"But Baelish is in trouble now. I think we should lend him a hand. He is, after all, a nobleman of the Vale."

Looking at the High Steward, who was utterly loyal to the Vale, Lysa knew her request went a little too far, and a trace of awkwardness showed in her eyes.

Originally, she had harbored some resentment toward Baelish. However much she normally despised her decrepit, foul-smelling husband, it had not been enough to make her poison him.

But that day, Baelish had kept beguiling her with the claim that her son would be sent away to be fostered by someone else. In a moment of rashness, Lysa had hardened her heart and put the Tears of Lys into her husband Jon's cup...

"My dear Lady Lysa."

Perhaps feeling that his earlier tone had been inappropriate, Lord Nester softened his manner somewhat. After all, he had once courted this woman who had just lost her husband.

Glancing at Robin, who was still nestled in his mother's arms and sucking greedily at her nipple, Nester could not help the twitch at the corner of his eye:

"I simply believe that, given Littlefinger's insatiable greed, once we hand over that much money, we will certainly never get it back."

Nester knew perfectly well about Lysa's special feelings for Baelish, but to soothe her currently unstable emotions, he could only try to reason with her gently.

"Ser Nester is right, my lady."

The Eyrie's captain of the guards, the robust Ser Vardis Egen, stood ramrod straight. Seeing that Lysa seemed somewhat uncertain, he hastened to dissuade her:

"Littlefinger is not an honest or trustworthy man, and he has been away from the Vale for a long time. We have no obligation to help him."

"Especially not with such an enormous sum."

What a joke. If we hand over every last Gold Dragon, what are my guards supposed to eat?

Although Vardis Egen was a thoroughly upright and loyal man, he also had to consider some very practical problems.

If the guards could not even fill their bellies, where would they find the strength to wield their swords and protect the young Lord of the Eyrie?

Jon was already dead. If anything happened to Robin as well, House Arryn would all but die out.

"But..."

Lysa was frantic. Ever since the raven's letter had arrived that morning, her whole heart seemed to have flown back to her lover in King's Landing.

It had to be said that Baelish was truly skilled at deceiving women. Every line conveyed his longing for Lysa and his reluctance to part with her.

It had immediately made this love-addled woman of unremarkable looks cast aside her resentment toward Baelish, filling her mind with images of him destitute on the streets.

"No!"

"This money must be paid!"

A hint of fierce resolve showed in Lysa's eyes. She absolutely could not let the charming Baelish be reduced to the state of a beggar.

"Maester Colemon."

Setting aside her son, who was still sucking tirelessly, Lysa straightened and assumed the airs of the mistress of the Eyrie.

"What are your orders, my lady?"

Maester Colemon, who had remained silent throughout, could no longer pretend to be mute.

As Grand Maester Pycelle's student, he had absorbed most of that philosophy of playing deaf and dumb to keep himself out of trouble.

Hearing Lysa call him now, he could only step forward respectfully and respond.

"May I ask whether you swore allegiance to my husband, Jon Arryn?"

Lysa stretched her neck, her tone now that of a queen.

"Yes, my lady."

"Ser Nester Royce, Ser Vardis Egen!"

"Did you once pledge allegiance to my husband?"

Lysa's shrill voice echoed throughout the Eyrie's hall. The two men whose names she had called exchanged a glance, both shaking their heads helplessly before stepping forward and going down on one knee.

"Of course, Lady Lysa."

Faced with Lysa's questioning, both men answered loudly and without hesitation.

"Very good."

Lysa smiled in satisfaction, then stood and placed her son Robin in the very center of the chair:

"My husband, Jon Arryn, died of illness in King's Landing."

"I now require you to swear eternal allegiance to his lawful heir, Robin Arryn."

"And acknowledge his lawful position as Lord of the Eyrie!"

In Westeros, titles and lands were all hereditary, so Lysa's demand could hardly have been more reasonable.

The three had already intended to swear allegiance to Robin. It was only because mother and son had just returned to the Vale and were emotionally unsettled that they had planned to wait until their grief had eased before holding the ceremony.

They had simply never expected Lysa, in her haste to save Baelish, to bring this up so suddenly.

Faced with a demand they could not possibly refuse, on this most formal of occasions, all three loudly swore allegiance to Robin before the Seven.

"Very good, my lords."

Nodding in satisfaction, Lysa's face broke into a triumphant smile:

"Since you have all sworn allegiance to the current Lord of the Eyrie."

"I assume no one has any objections if his lordship wishes to use his personal wealth?"

The three looked at one another, all somewhat speechless at this woman who had already lost her reason:

"Of course, Lady Lysa."

"This wealth belongs to you and yours. We have no right to interfere."

With her son succeeding to the title and herself becoming the Eyrie's de facto ruler, Lysa was now rather haughty.

With a flick of her sleeve, she did not even bother saying farewell to the three men below, taking Robin's hand and leaving the hall.

"Ser Nester, Ser Vardis, there is something I believe I should tell you."

Watching the retreating figures, one tall and one small, Maester Colemon narrowed his eyes and spoke meaningfully:

"Westeros has not experienced winter for many years."

"I believe the next winter cannot be far away, and the Vale is the closest place to the North."

"Now that Lady Lysa has emptied all our reserves at once, this winter..."

Neither Nester nor Vardis was a fool. At Colemon's reminder, they exchanged a helpless glance, the worry in their eyes deepening.

"Morgan, hurry and take in the sail! We're almost ashore!"

Aboard a merchant ship bound for the Vale, Old Jace hauled the furling line off its spool and around the winch as he shouted to his son.

Hearing his father's call, Morgan, who had been dozing, rubbed his bleary eyes, stood, and slowly walked toward the winch.

Father and son had spent their whole lives aboard ship, making a living by smuggling goods between King's Landing and the Vale. Sometimes, if the price was right, they also took on jobs smuggling people.

For smuggling, their relatively small ship made a tiny target, was very discreet, and was easy to handle. Working together, the two could take in the sail with ease.

"Morgan, go see whether that fellow who came aboard last night is awake."

"Get him something to eat while you're at it. He's a big spender!"

Looking at the coastline, whose outline was already faintly visible, Old Jace gave his son another instruction.

They had landed a big job last night. Just to take someone from King's Landing to the Vale, their passenger had generously paid them three hundred Gold Dragons!

That was as much as they could earn from more than half a year of hard smuggling.

But the job had come so suddenly that, at their employer's insistence, they had set off in a hurry before stocking enough fresh water.

Fortunately, there were still a few ports along the way where they could replenish their supplies.

Guessing that their passenger must be someone important, the shrewd Old Jace could hardly pass up such a fine opportunity to make money. He promptly sent his son to get on good terms with him.

Having grown up aboard ship with his father, Morgan was very obedient. He quickly took some salted fish, cured meat, and other food to the cabin door and knocked cautiously.

To please this important personage, they had given up the ship's only bedroom last night and made do on deck themselves.

"My lord, are you awake? We're about to dock."

Thinking of his father's words-that their passenger might give them another tip once they reached shore-Morgan felt a surge of excitement:

"I know this area very well. If you'd like to relax a little, we'll have about an hour while we take on supplies."

He knocked several times in succession, but there was no response at all from the bedroom. Morgan turned to look at his father, unsure what to do.

"Useless boy. Let me!"

Snatching the food from his son's hands, Old Jace pounded heavily on the door:

"My lord, are you awake?"

"My lord?"

But no matter how he called, there was not a sound from the room. Now Old Jace grew anxious too.

Frowning, he tentatively pulled the door outward and discovered that it was not locked at all.

Stepping inside, he saw their passenger still lying in bed with his back toward him. Only then did Old Jace relax, assuming the man was merely sleeping in.

These noble lords just love sleeping until noon.

Grumbling inwardly, Old Jace walked to the bedside and reached out to pat the man's shoulder gently:

"My lord, please get up and have some breakfast."

At first, Old Jace merely thought the man was sleeping too deeply. But as he shook him harder and harder without getting any response, he finally sensed something was wrong.

He quickly pulled hard with both hands, turning the body over from where it lay facing away from him.

"Aah!"

A heart-rending scream rang out. Old Jace scrambled out of the cabin on hands and knees as though fleeing for his life, leaving young Morgan bewildered.

He leaned halfway into the cabin, only to see a horrifying gash gaping across Baelish's throat, seemingly long since drained of blood.

His once-charming face was now entirely stripped of skin, its crimson flesh exposed without any covering to the air!