Riverrun
Edmure sparred with Eddard for the entire afternoon. The tourney might include a melee to screen contestants for the joust, and such chaotic fights require all the preparation and luck one can muster. To that end, both switched between different weapons during their training.
"Let's have one last bout for today, using sword and shield," Edmure said, noticing Princess Elia approaching and deciding to call it a day. "We'll fight with technique, as if it were a duel."
Eddard also favored the combination, so he swung into action quickly. Both traded blows, conserving stamina and focusing on tentative strikes designed to throw the other off-balance. This defensive style appeared remarkably boring to the untrained eye, but the veterans knew such duels end in a blink when one fighter misses his footing. As if to prove the point, Edmure caught a mistake and, in a heartbeat, his sword was poised to stab at the fallen Eddard's gut.
"Uncle, you should take a few veterans and fight Eddard as if it were a brawl," Edmure said, helping Eddard to his feet and consoling his brother-in-law. "Without my gift for anticipating danger, even I would not confidently enter that kind of arena. Chaos reigns supreme there, and heroes are easily trampled into the mud. Eddard, don't take such losses personally. For low-ranking nobles, this is their only chance to shine. We are highborn; for us, this is a mere sport. Remember, the most important thing in sport is not winning, but the players respecting the rules."
"Stop your lecturing," Brynden cut in to ease Eddard's ego. "If Catelyn hears that you beat her husband, she'll give you an earful. Let's see how you stay calm under her tirade." For some reason, his nephew took the Stark boy too seriously, acting as if this northern teen were already worthy of great respect and capable of bearing heavy burdens. Brynden had heard of the things to come, but that was a future yet to pass; he couldn't see how Eddard was considered the man in the story just yet.
"Apologies. Uncle, you and the knights should intensify your training. You will need to face the Crown alone for a few months. Tell the men to give their gear to me; I'll mend and improve it. But you must wait—you, Father, Lord Grell, and Desmond will receive armor far superior to anything else in Westeros."
Edmure's promise filled Brynden with joy; he had even decided on the decorations for his suit. His nephew was one of the finest craftsmen alive, so the usual structural issues with having giant horns on a helmet were trivial to him. Soon, he would have the armor of his dreams of his youth—few decades late, but better than never. He led Eddard and his men away, leaving Edmure with the ladies.
"You are always busy; I almost think you never sleep," Elia offered as a perfunctory greeting. Elaena, Xanda, and her company nodded in agreement.
"I'm sorry, ladies. The wedding caused me to ignore you. As an apology, I'll send you some finely crafted arrows. In the meantime, I hope you'll help Princess Elia with her task."
"My task? Who dares to order me? Are you still dreaming, boy?" Elia asked, pointing toward herself and looking at Edmure as if he were a fool.
"Yes. I will impart medical knowledge to you. I hope that you will oversee the preparation of herbs in the castle. Your immediate goal should be meeting the requirements of the upcoming war. As a long-term goal, I hope you'll help reduce deaths during childbirth by ten percent over the next thirty years. Be prepared, though—this will not just involve the theory of medicine, but also popularizing hygiene practices and working with the nobility to ensure the nutritional needs of the common folk are met. For the latter, you'll have the support of House Tully; we will grease the wheels of politics to ensure adequate compensation and incentives are provided."
Elaena simply watched Edmure ramble. She could see that he placed high hopes on mortals like Elia and Eddard. She let the couple argue while she noticed Catelyn and Eddard talking in their room in the distance. Eddard looked hesitant, and Catelyn was amused by her husband's shyness. When Eddard finally asked, "Who is this Petyr?" Elaena started laughing without a care for her surroundings. Here was Edmure, expecting young Eddard to understand the mysteries of the world while the young Stark was still tripping over his own love life.
Edmure looked at Elaena, trying to discern the reason for her laughter; she only pointed toward the castle in the distance. Edmure realized it was a case of a deity using their wider perception skills. "Can you locate anyone in the world? What about my position when I'm away?" he asked, drawing everyone's attention. Elia, too, was interested in having a walking, talking, laughing higher lifeform nearby.
"Generally, yes. It is easier if the person is known or a devotee of the same aspect. For example, I can sense that young Petyr is on some island in the Narrow Sea, but not his exact location or what he's doing now. As for you, it was much harder from our first meeting; later, even my mother couldn't reliably find you. Only when you actively sought help in the capital could we locate you."
Hearing this, Edmure simply nodded while discussing plans with Elia and Xanda. He wanted the Summer Isle group to help him train his men-at-arms. They had the discipline, but their combat prowess was mediocre. Although low-risk skirmishes would eventually solve this, Edmure hoped to steel their nerves and improve their control over their mounts under pressure. Training under constant arrow barrages from some of the finest archers on the planet would certainly help.
King's Landing
A large military convoy exited through the Dragon Gate. The people watched as thousands of armed and armored men marched in unison; this was the King's procession. He had decided to personally attend the tourney at Harrenhal. He had heard reports mentioning the Tullys and Lannisters preparing for war and decided to let them squabble, intending to rein them in after the tourney. To prevent any foul play, he took a massive host with him.
"Varys, keep me informed on these feuding families. I don't want to experience another Duskendale. Otherwise, all of Westeros will taste the power of the flames again. Mark my words: I'll burn them all."
"Yes, Your Majesty. What about the Royal Navy? What if they strike the capital in your absence?"
"Whent controls the navy for now. If he shows any fangs, I don't mind killing the hosts of this god-forsaken tourney. Now leave." The King shooed away Varys and exited the city for the first time in many years.