Currently ranked second on the Seven Kingdoms' most-wanted list, Petyr Baelish, or Littlefinger, knew all too well that if he were captured, he wouldn't survive the brutal interrogation. The moment his name was revealed, death would be inevitable.
Fortunately, he was familiar with the terrain, and with the tournament underway, the gates of Riverrun were wide open. He shoved the red-haired Silent Sister to the ground and began running wildly, blending in with the workers leaving the city to make his escape.
The priests and nuns were too old to catch up with him and could only shout loudly for help. By the time the residents near the Sept arrived, Littlefinger had already vanished without a trace.
When Littlefinger reached the riverbank, he was drenched in sweat. He squatted by the water, took off his shirt, and wiped his body with the damp fabric.
The news of Lysa Tully's tongue being cut off under the watch of the Kingsguard was certainly true, but logically, she should only be at the Sept in Riverrun. Edmure Tully didn't have the courage to hide her, let alone send her to the Vale.
"She's in King's Landing! Haha, my Lysa must be in King's Landing!"
A voice from nearby interrupted his thoughts. "What are you yelling about in the middle of the night?"
The river was some distance from the camp, and the reeds along the bank were over a person's height. Littlefinger squeezed the water from his clothes and walked toward the reeds. "Who's there?"
In response, several sounds echoed from the reeds—plop, plop, plop.
Littlefinger followed the noise and parted the reeds. A hunter, squatting by the river, was naked and relieving himself.
The hunter saw Littlefinger but didn't rise. "Buddy, what's there to be upset about over a woman? Look at me. If it weren't for diarrhea, I'd win the archery contest tomorrow. Not being able to compete doesn't bother me at all!"
Plop, plop, plop—more sounds.
This was upstream from where he had just wiped himself. Littlefinger sniffed the damp clothes in his hands, then sniffed his own body. He threw his shirt at the hunter's face, kicked him into the river, grabbed the hunter's ragged cloak, and ran back toward the camp.
"Damn you, don't let me catch you, or I'll skin you alive!"
Behind him, the hunter shouted curses. Littlefinger planned to return to gather information. He hadn't committed any real crime today, only struggled with the Silent Sister. Riverrun shouldn't be under lockdown, but he was penniless. He needed to find some money first.
---
The next day, at the edge of the woods outside the city, the archery contest saw little participation from nobles. It was an opportunity for commoners and low-ranking soldiers to make their mark, and many gathered to watch the competition.
Donnel, accompanied by his hunting dog Sandor and his knightly guards, also arrived. He had placed a substantial bet and was eager to see the outcome.
"My lord, everything has been taken care of," Ramsay Snow stood by Donnel, bending slightly with a smile full of ingratiation.
Donnel asked, "Did you kill him?"
Ramsay replied, "No, there are too many soldiers here. I just made sure he couldn't compete."
Donnel looked at him with disdain. "You didn't kill him? Or are you just too cowardly?"
Ramsay lowered his head, then quickly added, "My lord, I've never killed anyone, but I've often hunted wild boars and crocodiles with my friends."
"Just you?" Donnel ignored him and turned his attention to the match where he had placed his bet.
As the competition progressed, nearby small merchants' expressions shifted from joy to disappointment, clearly reflecting their bets.
When it came to Donnel's match, just as Ramsay had predicted, the expected participant didn't appear, and the opponent automatically won. Donnel instructed Sandor to find the man with the embossed belt, and before long, Sandor returned with a small bag of coins.
"Was it really that simple?" Donnel tossed the coin pouch up and down.
"There are rumors that Stannis Baratheon has even more ways to manipulate the betting, but this is just a small trick," Ramsay said humbly.
As soon as he finished speaking, Donnel's face darkened. Ramsay stood quietly by, trying to figure out what he had said wrong.
Donnel tossed the coin pouch to Ramsay. "You say you're good at hunting! Well then, take us to hunt a deer today!"
"My lord, the deer near Riverrun have been hunted to extinction for hundreds of years."
Donnel didn't even acknowledge him, turning to walk away. "Hound, take him with you!"
The tall Sandor Clegane stepped toward Ramsay, glaring at him. "Let's go, let's see how well you hunt."
Ramsay, realizing he was dealing with a spoiled, inexperienced noble, forced a smile. "Ser Clegane, you don't need to keep your hand on your sword hilt. I don't even have a razor on me. No need to say anything, I'll take you all there."
As the group of riders sped toward the woods outside of Riverrun, a murder case had occurred in the tent district.
The district housed blacksmiths, merchants, and, naturally, courtesans doing business. Now, the area was surrounded by Riverrun's guards. Edmure Tully and several nobles had arrived, while Lord Tytos Blackwood was throwing a fit. His sons knelt on the ground, wiping the face of the corpse lying before them.
"It must have been Hendry Bracken who killed my son! This is revenge!"
The old lord drew his sword and rushed toward Hendry Bracken, intent on killing him. Several elderly nobles hurried to restrain him.
"Does he look like someone worth my attention? The fool will probably die on the road one of these days." Hendry Bracken retorted.
The corpse on the ground belonged to the third son of House Blackwood, Hoster, one of the five who had attacked Hendry the day before. He was the weakest of the brothers, so thin he looked like skin and bones. Now, he had been stabbed in the waist and bled out in the mud.
Upon hearing of his brother's death, the other four immediately assumed Hendry Bracken had deliberately sought revenge. If Edmure Tully hadn't intervened, they would have fought right away.
Tytos Blackwood, upon hearing Hendry's defiant words, shouted, "You coward hiding behind women! Do you believe I won't kill your damned uncle too?"
Lord Jonos Bracken, upon hearing this, was equally unwilling to back down and drew his sword. "Come on, you old bastard! One of us is going to die here today!"
Seeing Lord Jonos Bracken prepare to strike, his illegitimate son, Harry Rivers, and Hendry Bracken also unsheathed their swords.
On the other side, upon seeing Tytos Blackwood being held back, his four sons stood up and also drew their swords.
The situation had escalated to a stand-off between the two family heads, with several young men on both sides preparing for a deadly confrontation. The three pairs of swords were drawn, and no one seemed willing to back down.
Tywin Lannister and the Westerlands nobles stood off to the side, watching silently. Tywin was curious to see how this new Lord of the Riverlands would handle the situation.
Edmure Tully raised his voice, "Stop! Everyone, stop! Let's take care of the bodies first."
"It was them!"
"You're accusing us without any evidence! He's not worth me lifting a finger against!"
"Stop! I'll send someone to investigate the cause of death thoroughly," Edmure Tully said, but his body remained still.
The tense standoff between the two families with so many nobles present indicated that, while anger still smoldered, there was a thread of rationality. Everyone knew something was off, and as long as the Lord stepped in and gave them a way out, the confrontation could be resolved. Tywin's eyes fixed on Edmure, and when he saw that Edmure was hesitant to step in and stop the standoff, his opinion of the Riverlands Lord dropped significantly.
Eventually, older nobles from the Riverlands stepped in to separate the two families, escorting the Blackwoods and Brackens into Riverrun, while the knightly guards collected the body.
Edmure, seeing the Riverlands nobles ignoring him, awkwardly smiled at Tywin.
---
Donnel's idea of hunting a deer in the Riverlands was an absurd fantasy, something Ramsay knew would be impossible. As Donnel and his knights rode along, Ramsay had been assigned a horse too, but his mind was focused on how to stop the spoiled noble from going hunting for deer. Knowing Donnel, if they didn't find any deer, Ramsay was certain the man would suffer.
The knights in the group were all armed with armor and long swords, and they first stopped at the edge of the tent district to buy some bows and arrows.
Ramsay spoke up, "My lord, the woods around here are full of wild boars. Boars are fiercer than deer, and hunters usually prefer them."
"I want to hunt deer, just find them for me!" Donnel didn't even look back as he selected arrows from the shop, feeling them and testing their weight.
Ramsay couldn't understand the man's obsession, noticing that Donnel picked only the most stylish arrows. It was clear he had no idea how to use a bow; he was just looking for entertainment.
Turning to look at the hunting dog Sandor, Ramsay saw the terrifying face peering out from beneath the opened helm, still holding his sword hilt ready to strike. Suddenly, Ramsay had an idea.
"My lord, the best hunters who were conscripted into the army can only start at the lowest ranks, because they lack one thing."
Donnel didn't look back, "What's that?"
Ramsay replied, "Courage. They've never shot a man."
Donnel turned around and looked at him, "There's no war right now, how could we shoot people?"
Ramsay replied, "When we practiced before, many poor people, just to get a full meal, were willing to act as our targets. They're more agile than deer, quicker than wild boars, and they know how to hide, climb trees. People are the best prey."
Donnel patted Ramsay's shoulder, "Good idea. You help me find some poor people."
Ramsay smiled and quickly ran toward a familiar figure. Before he got too far, he grabbed him.
"You look ragged, haven't had a meal lately?"
"Is it you, pig herder?" Littlefinger, who had been looking over his shoulder, replied.
Ramsay opened a small pocket of the coin pouch on his waist and showed it to Littlefinger. "I'm no longer a pig herder. Now, I'm serving a young nobleman. We're looking for someone like you who can read. It's a great opportunity."
"Oh?" Littlefinger looked toward Ramsay's back, where Joffrey, using the alias Donnel, stood.
Not having to search for him, Joffrey had come right to him. The Lannisters had faked the king's death, and if Joffrey was still alive, Cersei and the other children must also be alive. There were certainly secrets to be uncovered. If he could learn their true identities, it would cause chaos between the Lannisters and Baratheons—a perfect opportunity for him to climb the ladder.
Littlefinger pretended not to understand, saying nothing.
Ramsay continued, "We're going hunting outside the city today. If you know anything about hunting, this is a good chance to show your skills."
"Why did you come to me?" Littlefinger hesitated, the opportunity seeming decent but still unsure.
"This young noble seems to have a bad temper. He only keeps knights around him and no one with any learning. He asked us to find someone skilled in hunting, and you're the only person I know who can read. Lucky for you, I just spotted you!" Ramsay's words were half-truths.
Littlefinger adjusted his tattered clothes, "Fine, take me to meet this young noble."
When Donnel saw Ramsay bringing a ragged, skinny man toward him, he asked, "Is this him?"
"Yes, he's agreed. But please, let him eat first and get some clothes and shoes."
Donnel looked at the man, so thin that his toes were sticking out, "Hound, go buy some food, clothes, and shoes."
"From the noble house of Sarsfield, you may call me Duncan," Littlefinger said, bowing in a noble fashion.
The three of them met, each hiding their true identity. Joffrey, in his golden helmet and shiny armor, stood proudly with a bow in hand. Ramsay, now going by the name Roddy, smiled obsequiously. Littlefinger, now called Duncan, tried to show his manners and education, but Joffrey didn't even notice.
The hunting party grew by one more, with Sandor the Hound riding behind them, sizing up the poor soul. Donnel often acted out of line, and today, urged on to hunt live humans, the Hound knew that with Donnel's skill with a bow, he couldn't hit anything beyond ten paces. He thought that the poor fool's luck must be good, getting new clothes and a full meal for nothing.
When Jaime and Cersei's affair was exposed, many Westerlanders left King's Landing. Littlefinger was still a lowly official back then, unknown to most, but he knew these people well, especially the Hound. There were rumors that after the Mountain disappeared, his head had been sent to Dorne, and only then did the Hound become the head of his house.
The party entered the woods, now far from Riverrun, where human presence was sparse, and no roads remained.
Ramsay said to Donnel, "My lord, the terrain here is ideal for hunting. There's a mountain on one side, flat ground in the middle, and a river. It's perfect."
Donnel, knowing nothing about hunting, thought that with mountains, water, flat land, and woods, running would be exhilarating. He dismounted, readying his bow and arrows.
Littlefinger noticed Donnel wasn't very skilled, "My lord, when you first practice, there's no need to draw the bow all the way. Just aim for accuracy."
Donnel looked up at him, "Haha, you're right! Let's start."
The knights in the group stared at Littlefinger. Uncertain, Littlefinger pointed at himself, "You want me to hunt? My lord, look at these thin arms and legs, I can't pull a bow."
Ramsay walked over, brushing the leaves off Littlefinger and whispered in his ear, "You're not hunting. You're the prey. We're hunting live people!"
Ramsay then turned and walked back to Donnel's side, shouting, "Run! Run! We'll count to ten. One."
Seeing the knights' gazes, Littlefinger realized he had been sold out by Ramsay. He glared at him, then turned to Donnel, "My lord, I can read and understand the Seven Kingdoms' histories."
An arrow landed by his feet. Donnel didn't listen to his words and laughed as he drew another arrow from his quiver.
"Scoundrel!" Littlefinger yelled, turning to run.
"Hahaha! People are the best prey! Let him run for a bit, we'll catch up soon." Ramsay laughed.
"You too!" Donnel ordered.
"Me?" Ramsay pointed at himself, shocked by Donnel's words.
Donnel dropped his bow on the ground, smiling at Ramsay, "Yes, I'm hunting two people! Hound, bring me my crossbow!"
The Hound dismounted and retrieved a crossbow along with a dozen bolts.
"Madman!" Ramsay cursed and started running. Even a farmer could learn to use a crossbow in no time. Staying here would only mean death!