The next morning dawned beneath a leaden sky.
A bitter wind swept through the mountains, carrying flurries of snow.
After washing and dressing, Galon left his quarters to meet with Lord Royce and the other lords.
Lady Waynwood, now too old to make the grueling climb to the Eyrie, had sent her eldest son, Ser Morton Waynwood, in her place.
After a few brief greetings, the group of more than a dozen nobles began ascending the narrow mountain path.
The higher they climbed, the harsher the weather became.
One careless step could send a man plunging into the abyss below.
Because of that, they paused frequently to rest, fearful that numb hands or frozen feet might cost them their lives.
'Littlefinger really is a schemer...'
Galon thought to himself as the icy wind howled across the cliffs.
'Choosing a day this cold for his wedding.'
'He's counting on these elderly lords collapsing from exhaustion.'
'If a few happened to fall from the mountain, there'd be no one left to oppose the marriage.'
After a moment's thought, he strode to the front of the procession.
Relying on his youthful stamina, he took the lead, helping clear the difficult path for the others.
Time passed slowly.
A climb that normally required only half a day ended up consuming nearly the entire day.
By dusk, amid swirling snow, Galon and the other lords finally entered the warm great hall of the Eyrie under the guidance of the castle's servants.
The moment they stepped inside, everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
"Haha..."
Littlefinger approached wearing an elegant velvet doublet, his familiar smile firmly in place.
"My lords."
"You're a little late."
His gaze swept across the arrivals before settling on the young man standing behind Lord Royce.
Galon wore dark, smoke-colored scale armor, his expression as calm and cold as carved stone.
"But... You've still arrived in time for Lady Lysa's wedding feast."
As he politely welcomed the guests inward, Littlefinger's thoughts raced.
'That armor... Valyrian steel?'
His sharp eye recognized it immediately.
'No ordinary man could possess such armor. He's certainly no mere guard.'
'Could this man...'
'Become a problem?'
A sense of unease crept into his heart.
But it quickly faded.
Littlefinger knew that once he and Lysa exchanged vows before the Seven, he would become Robert Arryn's lawful stepfather.
No matter how stubborn these old lords might be, there would be nothing they could do.
Whoever this young man was, it would already be too late.
Lord Royce snorted dismissively and ignored Littlefinger's greeting altogether.
He led the others deeper into the hall.
Following behind, Galon quietly surveyed his surroundings.
Blue-and-white marble walls glowed beneath dozens of burning torches, making the great hall as bright as daylight.
A roaring fire blazed in the hearth, driving away the mountain chill.
Fresh flowers decorated every corner.
Long tables overflowed with lavish food and wine.
In one corner, a minstrel played cheerful melodies while a septon sat quietly in prayer nearby.
Galon's eyes swept across the room. Catelyn was nowhere to be seen.
One detail surprised him even more.
The Moon Door stood open.
'A warning...' he thought.
Lord Royce noticed it as well.
His expression darkened immediately.
Stopping in place, he fixed an angry stare upon Lady Lysa, who sat upon the high seat at the far end of the hall.
The other leading lords of the Vale wore equally grim expressions.
Lysa, however, seemed entirely unconcerned.
She wore an extravagant wedding gown that did little to suit her age. Heavy cosmetics concealed none of the feverish flush in her face.
She slowly rose to her feet, smiling with obvious satisfaction.
"Lord Royce. Lord Hunter. Lord Redfort.
...Welcome
Thank you all for coming to witness my marriage to Lord Baelish."
Silence settled over the hall.
Even the minstrel wisely stopped playing.
"Lady Lysa..." Lord Royce stepped forward. "You cannot marry this man."
"Lord Arryn has scarcely been laid to rest. To do this now is an insult to the honor of House Arryn."
Lysa clenched her wedding gown and shrieked.
"I am the Lady of House Arryn! My marriage is none of your concern!
I've invited Septon Morda to preside over our wedding. He will witness our vows before the Seven!"
The septon quietly lifted his head and respectfully nodded toward the assembled lords.
The sight only darkened their expressions further.
As bannermen, they had no legal authority to interfere in the marriage of Lady Arryn herself.
Watching everything unfold, Littlefinger felt immense satisfaction.
Then Galon stepped forward.
"Lady Lysa."
His voice was calm, yet every eye in the hall immediately turned toward him.
"You say you are the Lady of House Arryn.
If that is so...
May I ask why your own sister, Lady Catelyn, is absent from your wedding today?
Does the blessing of your closest blood mean so little?"
For the first time that evening, Littlefinger's expression changed.
Before Lysa could answer, he quickly stepped in.
"Lady Catelyn was overcome with grief after losing her son.
She has unfortunately fallen ill. She is recovering in her chambers and cannot receive visitors."
He paused briefly before fixing his gaze upon Galon.
"And you are...?"
Galon met his eyes without flinching.
"Galon Glover."
Littlefinger visibly stiffened.
At once he remembered the stories spreading throughout Westeros.
He also recalled Tyrion's assessment of Galon during the Small Council.
"Glover?"
"This is the Eyrie. Not the North. The affairs of House Arryn are none of your concern."
Suppressing his anger, he issued a warning.
"If you continue speaking such nonsense... Don't blame the Vale for treating you harshly."
"Is that so?"
Galon looked directly at Littlefinger.
There was unmistakable mockery in his eyes.
Slowly, he withdrew a sealed letter from inside his cloak and unfolded it before everyone.
"I am the betrothed of House Stark. Lady Catelyn is my future goodmother.
This is a letter she personally wrote requesting my aid.
In it, she clearly states that Lady Lysa and Lord Baelish conspired to poison Lord Jon Arryn.
Now Lady Catelyn herself has vanished. I believe you have murdered her as well."
The letter—and Galon's accusation—sent a ripple of shock through everyone present.
Littlefinger's heart lurched.
Instinctively, he glanced toward Lysa, trying to understand where the letter had come from.
Lysa looked equally bewildered.
She clearly knew nothing about it.
Galon then turned toward the septon, who had spent the evening trying to avoid becoming involved.
"Septon Morda... I ask you this.
Can a wedding still receive the blessing of the Seven when the bride's own sister has disappeared...
And when the bride herself stands accused of poisoning her husband?"
Cold sweat rolled down the septon's face. Yet he had no choice but to answer.
"No... Certainly not."
"In that case..."
Galon immediately pressed forward.
Taking a single step, he released the commanding presence that had earned him victory after victory as the Protector.
The overwhelming force of his bearing seemed to press upon everyone in the hall.
"I...
Commander of the Northern and Riverlands Alliance...
Demand to see Lady Catelyn immediately.
Otherwise...
This wedding is nothing more than a conspiracy that profanes the Seven and defies both justice and law."
The moment those words fell, Littlefinger finally lost his composure.
Glowering at the man who had shattered all his carefully laid plans, he shouted in fury, "Guards!"
"Seize them!"
Several guards of the Eyrie instinctively stepped forward, drawing their swords.
In an instant—
The situation became far more dangerous.
__________
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