Runestone had stood for thousands of years—its black granite towers carved from the bones of the earth, its warriors proud and unflinching in loyalty to House Arryn and the Vale's old traditions. But Edward Grafton knew that no stone, no matter how ancient, was beyond erosion.
The war raged far from the Vale, but its echoes provided cover for Edward's silent campaign against House Royce.
It began with a whisper.
"Have you heard? House Royce refused Rhaegar's request for troops."
In the markets of Gulltown, in the brothels of Snake Alley, in the vineyards of the Southern Vale, the rumor spread like wildfire. The claim was vague, unverifiable, and devastating. More whispers followed:
"They say the Royces still pray to the Old Gods. That they mock the Faith of the Seven."
"A Royce knight set fire to a sept in the Riverlands."
"Bronze Yohn is losing control of his bannermen."
Each tale was fed by Edward's network: merchants, spymasters, sellswords, and exiles who owed him coin or allegiance. It was a campaign of disinformation, crafted with care to cause doubt, suspicion, and eventual isolation.
But the rumors were only the beginning.
Edward had long prepared the groundwork. Months before, he had positioned loyal men near Runestone's territory—some as traveling traders, others as displaced smallfolk. These agents began to manipulate local markets, creating artificial shortages and trade disputes. Gulltown's merchants, instructed by Edward, refused to honor Royce-issued trade tokens, citing "unofficial embargoes" and "wartime risks."
Then came the forged letters.
One, sent to King's Landing and supposedly penned by a Royce bannerman, described dissent within Runestone: a desire to see the Arryns fall, a hidden loyalty to the Blackfyres. It was enough to warrant a quiet investigation, sanctioned by Rhaegar himself. Of course, the evidence the Crown's investigators found had been carefully planted.
A ledger that hinted at trade with rebel houses.
A list of names—real knights, all of them—that seemed to correspond to known insurgents.
Gold traced to Essosi banks sympathetic to the rebellion.
None of it true. All of it deadly.
Bronze Yohn Royce, noble and direct, demanded an audience at the Eyrie to protest his innocence. But Jon Arryn was hundreds of leagues away, in the Riverlands, trying to coordinate rebel forces. The Eyrie stood silent.
Left without recourse, Royce returned to Runestone, unaware that two of his own bannermen had already sworn secret oaths to Edward Grafton.
They were not ambitious men, nor traitors by nature. But their villages had been denied grain. Their sons conscripted and left to starve. Edward had offered them food, protection—and the illusion of control. In return, they cut off Royce's access to key trade routes, claiming local unrest and Crown interference.
By mid-autumn, Runestone's coastal harbors were crippled. Bandits attacked inland roads, always avoiding Edward's patrols. Crops failed. A fire destroyed a key granary. Whether by chance or sabotage, no one could say.
Edward maintained plausible deniability through it all. Gulltown sent aid caravans to struggling Royce villages—small, slow, and always too late. But the gesture made him look like a savior.
He spoke carefully when addressed by other nobles.
"I pray for Runestone, as I do for all in these troubled times," Edward would say, hands clasped with just the right measure of somber dignity. "But the war has weakened even the strongest of us. Let us hope they recover soon."
Behind closed doors, his lieutenants marked villages and strongholds on maps. With every whisper campaign and logistical sabotage, Edward's control over the eastern Vale grew.
By the start of the second year of the war, House Royce found itself in disarray. Two major vassal houses had declared independence. Their smithies and mills now answered to Gulltown's Guild of Iron and Trade.
Royce scouts who entered the mountain passes found themselves ambushed by well-armed raiders—Edward's men in disguise. Yet when Royce demanded justice from the Crown, the answer was silence. Rhaegar had no interest in internal Vale disputes.
Bronze Yohn Royce sent his youngest son to parley with Edward.
They met in Gulltown's northern garden courtyard.
Edward wore a simple black tunic and gloves of silver-threaded leather. He greeted the Royce boy with a kind expression and offered him wine from Dorne.
"Tell your father I admire his strength," Edward said. "But this war favors the agile, not the immovable. Gulltown will endure because it adapts."
"He is not your enemy," the Royce boy replied. "He has only ever served the Vale."
Edward studied the youth's face, seeing fear behind the words.
"Sometimes serving the Vale means knowing when the old stones must yield to the tide."
By the end of the meeting, Edward had secured a subtle victory.
The boy left alive, but with no concessions. His father, Bronze Yohn, would soon learn that Gulltown's docks no longer accepted Runestone grain. That their ships were being taxed as foreign traders. That Gulltown's merchants, empowered by Edward's silent decree, now offered steep discounts to Royce's enemies.
A message was sent to Braavos.
Edward was ready to purchase mercenaries—but only those who could pass as mountain men or Vale-born. He needed deniability. He needed pressure without fingerprints.
And so, as the war in Westeros dragged into its second year, Edward Grafton tightened his grip on the eastern Vale.
Runestone cracked.
And still, no one could prove he had lifted a finger.