With the trials of Lysa and Littlefinger, who was absent, concluded, what followed was the aftermath.
There were matters concerning Lord Robert, the disposition of Gates of the Moon and The Eyrie, and the Vale's deployment of troops.
Gendry let Maester Colemon and the others speak freely. Aside from Lysa's punishment, the more urgent issue was Robert's future. The child was the Great Lord of the Vale, and also a pitiful orphan who was about to lose both parents. Robert had always been in poor health, so his situation needed to be handled with particular care.
"My lords, allow me to speak first about Lord Robert's health, which I believe you are all already aware of. Though I am a Maester, there are congenital illnesses that no Maester can cure. I can only ease them," Maester Colemon said with a bitter expression. "Lord Robert is about six years old, yet he is pitifully thin and far smaller than other children his age. I believe this began in the womb. His face is sickly, and he trembles from time to time. Those are symptoms of epilepsy. What is even more frightening is the truth revealed today. Though he is still so young, he has taken quite a bit of Sweetsleep flower, and its toxins can accumulate over time."
"By the gods. The gods granted Lord Arryn an heir, yet made him so frail." Yohn and the others lamented. The Young Lord's condition was almost common knowledge, and the lords of the Vale were all deeply uneasy. Many said he was so weak that he might not live to adulthood.
"The child of a man in his seventies or eighties, and Lysa already had a body prone to repeated miscarriages. Now he has taken so much Sweetsleep flower on top of that." Gendry remained silent and somber. He understood the lords of the Vale's concerns very well. Frailty and illness meant two things. First, the child might not live long. Second, he might never become a knight. An Arryn who could not become a knight was destined to be the laughingstock of the Vale and would only bring shame upon his ancestors.
Westeros had always been a civilization of war, a civilization of knights. The appeal of blades and lances far outweighed copper coins and books. Nearly every region admired fierce knights.
Even House Arryn had risen through the martial prowess of their ancestors. Among the ancient royal houses, they were one of the few of pure Andal blood. They rose during the Andal invasion and were also among the youngest, though the Durrandon line traceable through House Baratheon could also reach back to the Age of Heroes. The Falcon Knights' strength was the most straightforward of all. Unlike the Lannisters, Starks, or Durrandons, whose legends were praised almost to divinity, their reputation came entirely from war.
When Robert Royce II was about to reclaim the Vale, the Andals united and chose a leader who was neither king, prince, nor lord: Artys Arryn. He was about the same age as King Robert, the finest warrior among his peers, a champion of swordsmanship, lance, and morningstar, as well as a resourceful leader deeply loved by his companions. He had been born beneath the Giant's Lance, where falcons soared between the peaks.
"Based on my experience, we must do everything we can to ensure the Young Lord receives proper nourishment. At the same time, he must be bled to purge the toxins. Even the necessary painkillers are poisonous, so I ask for your understanding, my lords. As for the Sweetsleep flower already in him, I fear the child has taken far too much. Lysa does not understand medicine or side effects. The one who truly understands them is Littlefinger. In addition, the Great Lord should play with children his own age and see the sunlight, but Lady, no, the criminal Lysa, never allowed it. She kept the child with her alone, so he was always lonely," Colemon said.
"That is true. Lord Robert once played with my son and the sons of the Steward of The Eyrie, but Lysa drove them away, saying they were too rough with little Robert. As for the servants' children, she thought them too lowborn," Ser Vardis complained. "Look at how she raised the child, like a little doll she would not let out of her sight. Lord Arryn was worried about it even while he was alive."
"That is true. If this continues, how can anything good come of it?" Ser Brynden also wore a bitter expression. Cutting ties with Lysa was inevitable, but House Tully's reputation would be ruined from this day forward. "Catelyn suggested sending Robert to The North for a short time so he could keep company with the Stark children, but Lysa scolded her for it. She has never allowed the child out of her sight for even a moment. Anyone who dared steal the child away, Lysa would make fly. Rickon is only three, but he is full of energy. Even the youngest Stark boy is several times stronger than this child."
"Oh, and there is that singer," Maester Colemon said cautiously. "Though Lord Robert does not enjoy that fool's singing, music does help the Young Lord sleep."
"Let him play music, but do not let him sing. We have stripped him of his honor. We could just as well pull out his tongue," Ser Vardis suggested. The lords naturally had no fondness for the foolish singer, who was now merely being kept around as a servant.
"According to the Maester's advice, I believe the child must be properly protected," Bronze Yohn proposed. "Where he should live, and who should be his guardian, are difficulties we must face directly. We cannot allow Lord Jon to be shamed. We must see this child become a knight Lord Jon would be proud of."
Gendry thought Bronze Yohn's words were nonsense. The child had been weak from birth. Add a round of knightly training on top of that, and they might as well complain that he was not dying fast enough.
"Indeed. Now that war has broken out again and the Vale is sending troops, we will be completely at odds with the Lannisters. In that case, the Great Lord..." Baron Nestor said.
"Runestone?" Ser Brynden the Blackfish suggested. "Lord Yohn is an outstanding figure of the Vale, and there is a tradition of him serving as guardian to the heir of House Arryn."
"Besides Runestone, there are other places as well. Redfort, Longbow Hall, the Young Lord could rotate between them," Old Lord Hunter suggested. "But The Eyrie is probably out of the question. It is too cold and too high. I always feel as though there are ghosts here."
"My lords, our goal is to raise the Young Lord into a knight. Since he is to be a knight, why not choose the strongest and most courteous knight in the Seven Kingdoms today? Lord Gendry's father and ancestors were all warriors renowned throughout the realm," Ser Vardis, captain of the guards, suddenly proposed. Everyone turned to look at Gendry.
When it came to strength, power, methods, bearing, and even looks, "Stormhammer" was unmatched throughout the Seven Kingdoms. Now that the Vale and the Lannisters were already irreconcilable, choosing the heir Gendry, rather than the silent Stannis or the usurper Renly, and standing together with The North and the Riverlands was the best choice.
"My lords, thank you for your goodwill," Gendry said clearly. "Given the age difference between Lord Robert and myself, I cannot take Lord Robert as my squire. Besides, the child cannot leave the Vale for too long. However, I can serve as Lord Robert's protector until Robert Arryn comes of age."
Sending little Robert to his side for protection was an idea, but the child's health was simply too poor. He was a classic hot potato. If anything went wrong, there would be no explaining it. Besides, Gendry was still unmarried. Taking in a sickly squire would make it feel more like he was raising a child. War and cutting men down came easily to him, but looking after children was likely far too difficult.
"However, I do have a few suggestions for Robert's education."
"Please speak."
Gendry said, "For a boy, companionship is the most important thing, much like planting a tree. When educating little Robert, we must not be too impatient, but we must not be too soft either. Robert's body is weak, so we cannot start him off with a strong, rough master-at-arms. I want someone patient and good-tempered, a tutor who can guide him gradually. As for the child's squires and playmates, the Great Lord may naturally choose his own companions, whether highborn or humble. What matters is that they are good-natured, kind-hearted children. They will also serve as examples for Young Lord Robert."
"You are right," Bronze Yohn said. He suddenly realized the huge flaw in his own thinking. Little Robert's body was frail. If he forced a knightly education on him too soon, trying to make him grow faster by pulling at the shoots, it would likely only backfire.
"In that case, we will need to bring the Young Lord to live at Gates of the Moon Castle and choose a kind master-at-arms and decent playmates for him," Ser Vardis said.
"If so, I propose we form a Guardians' Alliance to protect the future of the Vale and prepare for the wars to come," Old Lord Hunter suggested.
"Seven is an auspicious number, so let us choose seven people, modeled after the Small Council in King's Landing," Lord Nestor proposed. "If you all agree."
"I recognize your standing and your loyalty to Lord Arryn," Gendry said, encouraging Nestor to speak freely. Lord Nestor felt a warmth in his chest. Old Lord Arryn had always valued him highly. Only that madwoman Lysa had ordered him about like a servant.
Gendry thought the idea was rather fitting. It also came with a time limit, since the guardians would have to protect the child until he turned sixteen. Under that condition, they would certainly have every reason to keep Robert alive.
"Lord Bronze Yohn, House Royce has always been the strongest lordly house after House Arryn, and Lord Yohn's sons are all fine men. Lord Vardis has long served as Captain of the Guard at The Eyrie and was one of Lord Arryn's most trusted men. Lord Marco Grafson, if we are to strike from Gulltown, or even purge Littlefinger's lackeys, we cannot do without Lord Marco's help... We also need someone to treat the Great Lord's illness. Maester Colemon has worked diligently and wished to save our old Hand of the King, only to be obstructed by villains." Lord Nestor's list was wise and sharp, made up almost entirely of the foremost figures of the Vale.
"I am deeply grateful," Colemon said, his eyes brimming with tears. It felt like going from hell to heaven. Fortunately, that madwoman Lysa had never thought much of him in the first place.
"I will add a few more names," Gendry said. "One is Lady Waynwood. Lady Anya's adopted son is Harry, who is also the Vale's second heir. She needs to be our friend. Another is Lord Nestor. Lord Nestor is the steward of the Vale and the Keeper of Gates of the Moon Castle. With war approaching, maintaining order matters all the more."
"My mother will do everything in her power to support your cause," Ser Morton Waynwood said. He had originally only come along to join the excitement and curry favor with the widow.
Lord Nestor, Ser Vardis, Bronze Yohn, and the others all voiced their agreement. The lords present could only nod along. These were all prominent names, far beyond the reach of ordinary lords.
"Since seven is the honored number, and since Prince Gendry is the Young Lord's protector, he should naturally be the first member of the Guardians' Alliance," Bronze Yohn declared, settling the matter.
"Please protect poor Great Lord Robert," Ser Vardis and Lord Nestor pleaded. Though they were now members of the Guardians' Alliance, they understood that everything depended on the new storm.
"Since that is the case, I accept your goodwill. I will protect this fragile boy until he comes of age," Gendry promised. Not taking this little burden with him was already a slight, but he would certainly guarantee the boy's safety. "I hope we will all stand together, not only for the Young Lord, but for the Vale's future. If anyone seeks to harm the Vale or Lord Arryn's orphan, I do not mind letting blood run like rivers."
Gendry swept his gaze over the crowd, and his words seemed to carry enormous weight. Every lord of the Vale was weighing them in his heart. It was both a promise and a warning.
"But my sister, Mya. Why are you still letting her transport supplies?" Gendry asked Lord Nestor.
"That..." Lord Nestor immediately denied responsibility. "That has nothing to do with us. We should have treated the Princess properly, but Lady Lysa, no, that foolish woman refused to let us obey any outside commands. She shut herself away, and none of us dared to act on the king's will."
"War will break out very soon, and after the war comes the Long Winter. When I am not here, I hope my sister will be cared for as well," Gendry said.
"Lady Mya will receive the care due to a Princess. The Vale does not forget," Ser Vardis promised.
Gendry felt this move was essential. Mya understood the Vale's situation, and soon she would become his special envoy in the Vale.
"You avenged Lord Arryn, cleared his name, and promised to protect a young child. This is true chivalry. You are a true knight. Long live the Storm!" Ser Vardis was the first to understand. He placed Falcon at Gendry's feet and knelt in submission.
"In that case, let us raise another storm, just as we did more than ten years ago. Long live the heir, Gendry!" Ser Lyn drew Lady Forlorn and knelt beside Vardis.
The elderly Lord Hunter understood as well and shakily set down his longsword. "Long live the Storm!"
"Long live the Storm!" At that, the nobles of the Vale all began to move, Nestor, Bronze Yohn, Morton, and the others among them.
Though Houses Hunter, Waynwood, Corbray, and the others had never met the Stags before, they rose one after another, drew their swords, and knelt. The foundation of Stags, Eagles, Fish, and Wolves had always been there. All it had lacked was someone to set it in motion.
"Long live the Storm!"
"Long live the Stags and the Eagles!"
"To the Bloody Gate! Revenge!"
The proud knights of the Vale lowered their heads one after another. They had personally witnessed Gendry's honor, courage, and strategy. The Light of the Warrior could indeed sweep across the Seven Kingdoms. He had broken the Twin Cities, slain the Horselord, fought the Kingslayer, saved Riverrun, attacked The Twins, defeated Ser Lyn, and exposed Littlefinger's conspiracy. Only victory could bring more victory. At least when it came to war, everyone was convinced by Gendry.
"Then let the lions tremble when they see us gathered together!" Gendry had everyone rise.
Beside Gendry stood a statue, a handsome warrior in battle carved from veined white marble. A crescent falcon was engraved upon his shield, and a pair of falcon wings adorned his silver armor. It was none other than Artys Arryn, the "Falcon Knight," founder of House Arryn.
"As High as Honor, as High as Victory, as High as Power. You must first win before you can protect honor." Gendry looked at the pale face of Artys Arryn's statue. Artys had won beautifully, while Lord Jon had lost terribly. Artys valued honor highly, but he valued victory even more. War was war. That was the face of their ancestor that generations of Arryns had failed to see clearly.
The war that founded House Arryn had begun with a decoy and a surprise attack, which was precisely not honorable. It was flexible, able to bend or stand firm as needed. In the decisive battle against the First Men, Artys had one of his knights put on his spare silver armor, while he led his elite knights up a narrow mountain path he had known since childhood. From high above and behind the First Men army, they launched a sudden attack. In the slaughter that followed, some said Artys himself killed King Robert Royce II. After the Battle of the Sevenstars, the First Men never recovered, and the Andals came to rule the Vale.
"The Great Lord has awakened."
The sleepy-eyed Young Lord, dressed in sky-blue and cream-colored clothing, was brought into the garden by a group of nervous servants. The child was short and pale, with large damp-looking eyes and brown hair.
"I am your great-uncle, child. Do you not recognize me?" Blackfish forced a faint smile as he looked at Sweetrobin.
"Great-uncle? My mother says you are a traitor. You should fly," Robert said, but no one obeyed him.
"I am the Great Lord. Why will you not make him fly?" Robert grew a little angry.
"Do you want to fly?" Gendry asked him.
"Who are you? You are so tall. Will I be like that when I grow up? My mother says the seed is strong," Robert said. The child truly was frail.
"He is your king, the son and heir of King Robert, and the son of Lord Jon's foster son. From now on, you will address him as king," Ser Vardis replied.
"That fat king? The one who was drunk every day? My mother said he was a bad man who wanted to give me to the lions. But the fat man's son is much better-looking than he was. Can you really make me fly?"
"A knight never lies." Gendry smiled and walked up to Robert.
"I want to fly!" Great Lord Robert shouted, and Gendry had him stand properly.
"That is dangerous," Ser Barristan said hurriedly. "Your armor."
"It is fine." Gendry waved him off.
"Watch closely. You are about to fly." Gendry tossed Robert into the air, then caught the child steadily, without the slightest wobble. Robert was six years old, but judging by his build, he looked more like four. Even by the time he turned eight, he might still have the frame of a four- or five-year-old.
With that little weight, Gendry felt his movements flow effortlessly. Standing at the center of his own circle, he sent the child into the sky again and again without shifting his center of gravity.
The child in sky-blue and cream-colored clothes was thrown into the air, cheering happily again and again, leaving the lords dazzled. Yet when the Young Lord came back down, he was so light he seemed like a feather landing in Gendry's arms.
Ser Lyn, Bronze Yohn, and the others all stared wide-eyed at Gendry's game. Gendry was wearing black scale armor and tossing this half-grown child into the air as if in play. That alone was already astonishing.
Lyn watched Gendry's movements closely. What was even more frightening was his steadiness. Again and again, Gendry's breathing never grew the least bit unsteady, and the range of his movements remained as precise as usual, like a perfectly calm surface of water. He had clearly reached the point where heavy weight seemed light.
It was not hard for a knight to toss something into the air. Tossing a living person while wearing armor was much harder. Hardest of all was doing it so many times with such effortless, unrestrained smoothness. That was not something most people could achieve.
"Big brother, can you make me fly like this again in the future?" Robert said excitedly. The child had enjoyed himself immensely, and his epilepsy had not been triggered, so the gathered lords all breathed a sigh of relief.
"I can, if you listen to the Maester and to these people." Gendry set Robert Arryn down, letting the child land firmly on the ground.
Perhaps I might take you flying again someday. Not by my own strength, but on a dragon. The first Great Lord Arryn to submit had enjoyed such treatment, though later his own brother had sent him straight to the Moon Door to be thrown out.
Gendry thought of his dragon, Balerion. He wondered how the Black Dread was doing now. He truly missed him. Perhaps in one year, two years, or three, he would be able to carry a rider.
Gendry looked at the laughing Sweetrobin. The foolish child was happy, but could he truly live without worry?