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WMK 137
🕑 Added 2025-10-26 18:00:03 +0000 UTCChapter 137 A Turn of Fortune
The issue debated between the Vance sisters and their uncle, Davon, was quite simple: should they continue to take in more refugees, or should they clear out the existing ones?
Most people present, including the knights of House Whent, agreed with Davon's opinion: the Westerland army could besiege Wayfarer's Rest at any time, and no one knew for how long. Keeping only soldiers in the castle was clearly the best option.
The younger sister, Emphyria, however, astonished William. She had actually asked her maids to bring in a large pile of charts and tables.
"During this time, I inspected all the storehouses and investigated all the channels for grain collection," Emphyria said, pulling out a stack of diagrams and placing them on the long table before William.
William unrolled the diagrams and began to look through them, thoughtful, nodding slowly from time to time.
'This must be some kind of bookkeeping method. I can understand the numbers, but I can't tell if the overall calculations are correct... Can't panic! Must maintain the top student image.'
Several curious knights also came over to look at the tables in William's hands, but were immediately repelled by the dense numbers. Their admiration for William, who seemed engrossed in studying the charts, grew accordingly.
"These are the population statistics I compiled for all the commoners who entered the city," Emphyria said, pushing over another thick stack of forms.
These were easier to understand, containing details like names, places of origin, and family relations. What was remarkable was that all the documents were clearly organized and well-structured.
'The refugees haven't been in the city for more than a few days, and she's already produced such detailed statistics... She is definitely a talent!'
William's gaze towards Emphyria grew fervent. In Westeros, talent for internal administration was rarer than military talent.
Clearing his throat twice, William spoke, "If these statistical data are all accurate, then the conclusion is obvious. The castle's food stores are sufficient to last for more than three months. The Westerland army absolutely cannot besiege Wayfarer's Rest for that long."
Davon snorted coldly. "How do you know they won't?"
William smiled slightly. "Ser Davon, I'm afraid you haven't heard yet. The Northern army has long since marched south and is probably already on the roads of the Riverlands as we speak. My father, Lord Walter Whent, has been gathering his bannermen at Harrenhal and contacting the great houses of the east. In a month at most, Harrenhal will have assembled an army of approximately thirty thousand. By then, Lord Tywin will be considering how to end the war honorably, not how to besiege Wayfarer's Rest."
The Vances were hearing this news for the first time, and their faces immediately lit up with joy. They couldn't help but whisper amongst themselves, and the hall suddenly grew noisy.
Davon was stunned for a moment, his eyes unable to conceal his pleasant surprise.
Only the eldest sister, Liane, remained composed, though a faint flush appeared on her cheeks, making her seem less icy than before.
The cruelty and brutality of the Mountain had left all the nobles of the Riverlands trembling with fear, and Wayfarer's Rest was no exception. Recently, everyone's nerves had been stretched taut. William's words sounded like heavenly music to their ears.
Davon's expression softened considerably. "Even if the food is sufficient, having the castle packed with commoners like this will still be a hindrance during a fight. If chaos breaks out, it could lead to irreparable consequences."
Liane's gaze was sharp. "Emphyria has divided the commoners into many groups for easier management. She also provides relief through work, giving them tasks to do. Has there been a single instance of chaos so far, Uncle Davon?"
"That's because the Westerland army hasn't attacked the city yet!"
"Then we can deal with it when they do attack!"
The atmosphere was beginning to grow tense again. William laughed. "Lady Liane, I have a suggestion. Let these commoners go to Harrenhal. Since the very beginning of the conflict, Harrenhal has been preparing to take in commoners fleeing the war. If they go to Harrenhal, they will certainly receive proper settlement, and they can return after the war is over. This way, the concerns Ser Davon raised would no longer be an issue."
He looked smilingly at the two facing each other across the long table. "What do you both think?"
Davon, who simply wanted the commoners out of the city and didn't care about the rest, readily agreed.
Liane and Emphyria exchanged a glance. Emphyria asked, "Can Harrenhal accommodate so many refugees?"
"You can go to Harrenhal and see for yourself, Lady Emphyria," William replied.
Emphyria's eyes lit up. "Is that a formal invitation, Ser William?"
Before William could answer, Liane said, "The commoners may go to Harrenhal. But my apologies, Ser William, Emphyria cannot go."
Maintaining an elegant posture, Emphyria slowly sat down in her chair, her eyes dimming with disappointment.
William revealed a brilliant smile. "That was inconsiderate of me. I should formally invite all three ladies to visit Harrenhal after the war is over."
This time, Liane did not object.
With the problem that had troubled him now resolved, Davon felt a small sense of satisfaction. He warmly invited William and his companions to be seated and urged the servants to bring wine quickly.
Soon, the long table before everyone was laden with various exquisite pastries and fruits, and servants began pouring wine from flagons.
A familiar, subtle fragrance drifted through the hall—it was actually the golden wine of Arbor.
William first toasted Liane. The golden liquid passed his lips and teeth, leaving behind a crisp sweetness and smoothness.
Truth be told, upon seeing the exterior of Wayfarer's Rest, William had assumed the Vances lived a rather "austere" life. Now, he felt renewed anticipation for the banquet.
After that, William focused on drinking cheerfully with Davon, and the conversation soon turned to the war with the Westerlands.
William recounted his recent exploits—defeating the Mountain at the Mummer's Ford, his several raids on Westerland forces, and so on—hoping to gauge the possibility of gaining his support.
The Vances were inwardly full of praise upon hearing that William had faced and defeated the Mountain on the battlefield, and their gazes towards him grew increasingly respectful.
"Although Lord Tywin commands twenty thousand men, they are fighting on foreign soil and must rely on plundering villages to secure sufficient supplies. If House Vance could contribute five hundred cavalry, our combined forces would be capable of raiding those Westerland detachments of around five hundred men sent out to forage for supplies."
Davon pondered for a moment. "I have no doubt you would achieve glorious victories, Ser. However, since reinforcements will arrive soon, we need only hold the castle. There's no need to incur unnecessary casualties."
"That is a very reasonable point," William shrugged. He hadn't held out much hope to begin with, so he wasn't particularly disappointed.
Liane had been listening quietly to their conversation. Suddenly, she asked, "Ser William, what do you plan to do next? Return to Harrenhal to join Lord Walter?"
"If I go back now, I'll just have to turn around and come back here in a few days. Why bother with the pointless journey?" William laughed. "I intend to stay on the west bank of the Maiden, look for opportunities to strike small Westerland contingents, and make them think twice about plundering freely. It would slow Lord Tywin's advance somewhat and, to some extent, still offer protection to the smallfolk."
Liane was about to speak when an old maester in a grey robe, wearing a chain, entered the hall. His hair was completely white, but his steps were still brisk.
The old maester looked very serious. He walked to Liane and handed her a letter.
Seeing the maester's expression, everyone in the hall knew something momentous had happened. They instinctively set down their cups and watched the acting castellan read the letter in silence.
Suddenly, Liane smiled. It was like a warm spring breeze breaking the ice on a frozen lake.
"Maester, please inform everyone what has happened."
"Yes, Lady Liane." The old maester's voice was hoarse. "A letter from King's Landing. The King and the council have summoned Lord Karyl to court immediately, to swear fealty to His Grace, Joffrey of the House Baratheon, the First of His Name. Refusal will be considered treason. Furthermore, Lord Tywin has assumed the office of Hand of the King. He will administer the realm in the King's name and lead the royal forces to crush the rebels."
The atmosphere in the hall grew heavy.
Liane stood up. Rip! Rip! She let go, and the letter, torn to shreds, fell from her hand like snowflakes.
"Ridiculous," Liane's voice was soft, but her gaze was sharp as a sword, sweeping over the Vance household knights; none dared meet her eyes. "For three hundred years, the liege lord of House Vance has been Tully, neither Baratheon nor Lannister. That is why my father went to Riverrun, not King's Landing."
"And what use is swearing fealty? Isn't the new Hand of the King already crushing 'rebels'? Since that's the case," her eyes shifted to William, blazing like torches, "then we should act the part of 'rebels'. Ser William, I agree. Not just the cavalry. All of Wayfarer's Rest will fight by your side."
