Chapter 8: The Trout's Gaze and the Butler's Watch
The summons from Riverrun, bearing the leaping trout seal of House Tully, sent a fresh wave of consternation through Greywater Keep, quickly followed by a surge of fearful pride amongst its inhabitants. Their young lord, Elian Hollow, was no longer just a local legend whispered about in hushed tones; he was being recognized, summoned by the Lord Paramount of the Trident himself. For Ainz Ooal Gown, it was another calculated risk, another step into the complex web of Westerosi power politics.
"Hoster Tully…" Ainz murmured, rereading the elegantly scripted parchment in his chamber. Sebas Tian, standing respectfully attentive, had already examined the seal and the handwriting, confirming its authenticity. The summons was polite but firm, requesting Lord Elian Hollow's presence at Riverrun to discuss "matters of grave import concerning the security and well-being of the Riverlands, and to afford us the opportunity to become better acquainted with a young lord whose recent commendable actions have reached our ears."
"Commendable actions," Ainz mused. "A diplomatic way of saying 'explain the monstrous corpse and the sudden efficiency of your previously insignificant House.'"
"Indeed, my Lord," Sebas affirmed. "Lord Hoster Tully is known for his shrewdness, though his health has reportedly been failing in recent years. His brother, Ser Brynden Tully, the 'Blackfish,' often acts as his strong right hand. He is a renowned warrior and a pragmatic commander, less given to diplomatic pleasantries, and likely to be the more discerning eye."
Ainz nodded. This would be a far more challenging audience than the one with Lord Karstark. Karstark was a soldier, direct and focused on immediate threats. The Tullys were rulers of a Great House, accustomed to intrigue, balancing the needs of numerous vassals, and safeguarding their ancient domain.
"We will need a more substantial retinue than before, Sebas," Ainz decided. "Not an army, but enough to show we are not entirely without means. Hal and Timms, of course. And select four of the best men from Oakhaven. Ensure their gear is as presentable as possible – the hide from the Blackmorass guardian should provide material for some impressive, if crude, jerkins or shield coverings."
"An excellent thought, my Lord," Sebas agreed. "A visual reminder of your recent… accomplishments… will speak volumes."
"And the skull of the guardian," Ainz continued. "We will bring it as a gift, a tribute to Lord Tully. A symbol of House Hollow's dedication to cleansing the Riverlands of threats." And a clear demonstration of the power they are dealing with, he added mentally.
The preparations took several days. Sebas, with his usual quiet efficiency, oversaw the refitting of the chosen men, his eye for detail ensuring they looked as disciplined and well-equipped as their meager resources allowed. The colossal, six-eyed skull of the crocodilian beast was carefully cleaned and mounted on a sturdy wooden frame for transport, a truly grotesque and awe-inspiring trophy. Maester Hannis, practically vibrating with a mixture of terror and excitement, imparted what little he knew of Riverrun's courtly etiquette and the personalities of the Tully household.
The journey to Riverrun was the longest Ainz had yet undertaken in this world. It took them south-east, through lands that showed more signs of prosperity and settled life the closer they got to the confluence of the Red Fork and the Tumblestone. Villages were larger, fields more cultivated, and they encountered more travelers and merchant caravans. Ainz, riding his now slightly less bony nag, observed everything, his enhanced senses via the amulet constantly scanning his surroundings. The amulet itself felt like a living part of him now, its faint glow a constant companion beneath his tunic. During rests, he would discreetly practice channeling mana through it, discovering he could subtly influence the natural world in minor ways – encouraging a flickering campfire flame to burn brighter, or soothing the nervous horses with a projected aura of calm. These were not YGGDRASIL spells, but something new, an instinctual interaction with this world's more elemental magic, facilitated by the Children of the Forest's artifact.
His private conversations with Sebas during the journey were invaluable. They discussed the potential nature of the other stone circles, the best strategies for a wider search for Nazarick's denizens, and the nuanced approach required for the Tully audience. Ainz also focused on his mental projection, attempting to send out a clearer, more defined "Nazarick Beacon," imbued with his specific magical signature and a sense of urgent summons. He hoped that any of his Guardians, if they possessed similar sensitivities to Sebas, might perceive it more distinctly now.
As they finally approached Riverrun, Ainz was genuinely impressed. The castle was a formidable triangular fortress of reddish-brown sandstone, its walls rising sheer from the waters of the Tumblestone and the Red Fork, which formed a natural moat on two sides. A man-made ditch, flooded with water, completed the defenses on the third side. Banners bearing the silver trout of Tully, leaping on its red and blue field, flew proudly from numerous towers. It was a true stronghold, a testament to centuries of Tully rule. Elian Hollow's party, with their grim trophy and aura of wild, untamed power, were undoubtedly an unusual sight for the guards at the gate, but the Tully summons granted them swift, if wary, passage.
Meanwhile, in a squalid tavern in the village of Oakhaven, now firmly under Greywater Keep's protection…
A man known only as Kestrel, his face shadowed by a hood, nursed a cup of watered-down ale. He was one of Demiurge's more subtle agents, a master of blending in, of listening. For days, he had been observing Oakhaven, noting the villagers' newfound sense of security, their fearful reverence for their young lord, Elian Hollow, and the even quieter, deeper dread inspired by the lord's elderly advisor, 'Master Tian.' He heard the fantastical tales of the Whispering Woods, of the monstrous bog creature slain in the Blackmorass – tales that grew more outlandish with each retelling, yet all centered on the inexplicable power of this boy and his ancient companion.
The village elder, Borin, had spoken of Lord Hollow being summoned to Riverrun. Kestrel, having seen the small, grimly determined party depart with their monstrous trophy, knew his master would want this information immediately. He penned a coded message, detailing the extraordinary events, the local perception of Lord Hollow's power (often described in terms that hinted at sorcery or divine intervention), the presence of the highly capable 'Master Tian,' and their current destination. He dispatched it via a trusted courier, one of several Demiurge had embedded throughout the Riverlands.
Demiurge, still operating from the vast, ruinous shell of Harrenhal, received the message with keen interest. His elegant fingers tapped lightly on the arm of his makeshift throne. The surge of power he'd felt, the co-location of Sebas Tian – it all pointed to this Elian Hollow. And now, a summons to Riverrun. The Lord Paramount of the Trident himself was taking notice.
"Interesting," Jaldabaoth murmured to the empty hall, a predatory gleam in his disguised eyes. "Our Lord Ainz is certainly making an impression. Perhaps it is time to accelerate my own… introductions." He needed more direct observation. The reports were tantalizing, but he required firsthand assessment before revealing himself to his beloved master, lest he inadvertently complicate Lord Ainz's no-doubt brilliant plans. He would dispatch his most skilled observer to Riverrun. Someone who could get close, very close, without being detected.
At Riverrun, Elian Hollow and 'Master Tian' were escorted through bustling courtyards and echoing halls to a solar overlooking the rushing waters of the Tumblestone. The room was well-appointed, though not overly ostentatious, with Tully banners adorning the walls and sunlight streaming through arched windows.
Hoster Tully sat in a large, cushioned chair near the hearth, a fur rug over his knees despite the mild day. He was as Maester Hannis and Sebas had described: gaunt and pale, the shadow of illness heavy upon him, yet his eyes were sharp, intelligent, and deeply assessing. Beside him stood a man who could only be Ser Brynden 'Blackfish' Tully. Tall, lean, with a stern, weathered face and piercing grey eyes that missed nothing, he exuded an aura of hard-bitten competence and uncompromising vigilance. A younger, somewhat nervous-looking man, whom Ainz guessed was Edmure Tully, hovered in the background.
After the formal introductions, Elian, with a gesture from Sebas who managed the presentation with quiet dignity, had the monstrous, six-eyed skull of the Blackmorass guardian brought forward and presented. "My Lord Hoster, Ser Brynden," Elian began, his youthful voice clear and respectful. "House Hollow offers this tribute, a testament to our unwavering commitment to the peace and security of the Riverlands, under your esteemed leadership. This beast, a terror of the Blackmorass, will no longer prey upon your loyal subjects."
The skull, even in the well-lit solar, was a horrifying spectacle. Hoster Tully's eyes widened slightly, and even the stoic Blackfish raised an eyebrow. Edmure looked frankly nauseated.
"By the Gods…" Hoster breathed, his gaze fixed on the skull. "Your men spoke true, then. Such a creature… I have not seen its like in all my years." He looked at Elian. "You are Lord Elian Hollow? Younger than I envisioned. And your House, forgive my frankness, has not been prominent in the affairs of the Riverlands for many generations."
"Circumstances have changed, my Lord," Elian replied evenly. "My father served loyally in the Rebellion. His loss, and the subsequent lawlessness, forced me to… rediscover certain forgotten strengths and knowledge within my lineage to protect my people."
The Blackfish stepped forward, his gaze like chips of ice. "Forgotten strengths? Knowledge? Lord Karstark reported you dealt with a considerable bandit infestation with… unusual efficiency. And now this." He gestured to the skull. "These are not the deeds of a common boy, Lord Hollow. What is the source of this newfound prowess?"
This was the crux. Ainz met the Blackfish's stare, his Elian persona projecting a mixture of youthful earnestness and quiet resolve. "My family, Ser Brynden, though fallen on hard times, has ancient roots. In our archives, I found records, old lore pertaining to the defense of our lands, abilities once possessed by the Hollows of old. The gods, perhaps, saw fit to reawaken these gifts in me in our time of need. I seek only to use them to serve my people and my liege lords."
Sebas, as Master Tian, chose this moment to interject, his voice calm and scholarly. "If I may, my lords? Young Lord Elian speaks modestly. His dedication to study and his innate aptitude are remarkable. History is replete with examples of ancient lines possessing unique, often dormant, talents that resurface in times of great crisis. The Starks have their warging legends, the Targaryens had their dragons. Perhaps House Hollow, in its own way, possesses a heritage of… specialized guardianship." He subtly framed Elian's abilities as something rooted in lineage and ancient, albeit unusual, tradition, making it seem less alien and more a part of this world's known marvels.
Hoster Tully listened, his fingers drumming on the arm of his chair. "Specialized guardianship…" he mused. "The Blackmorass has always been a cursed place. If you possess the means to tame its excesses, Lord Hollow, that would indeed be a service to the Riverlands." He coughed, a wracking sound that shook his frail frame. "Lord Karstark was correct to bring your… deeds… to my attention."
He looked at Elian, his gaze surprisingly keen. "I will be frank, Lord Hollow. Your sudden emergence, your… capabilities… they are an anomaly. Anomalies can be dangerous. But they can also be opportunities." He paused. "I will formally task you with continuing your efforts. Not only to keep your immediate lands secure, but to act as a shield against the deeper threats of the Blackmorass. You have my leave to operate within its bounds, to neutralize its dangers. You will report all significant findings, and any creatures of similar… magnitude… directly to Riverrun." He gestured to the skull. "Bring me their heads, and you will find House Tully generous."
It was more than Ainz had hoped for. A formal sanction, a degree of autonomy, and even the promise of reward.
"However," Hoster continued, his voice hardening slightly, "you will not overstep. Your authority extends to your lands and the containment of threats from the Blackmorass. Any wider ambitions, any interference in the affairs of other lords, will be met with my severe displeasure. Am I understood?"
"Perfectly, my Lord Hoster," Elian replied, bowing his head respectfully. "House Hollow desires only to serve loyally."
The Blackfish still looked skeptical, but he gave a curt nod. "See that you do, boy. The Riverlands have shed enough blood. We need loyal swords, not rogue sorcerers causing more chaos."
The audience concluded with Hoster Tully offering Elian access to Riverrun's extensive library and maps for any research that might aid his tasks, a subtle way of both assisting and keeping an eye on him. He also assigned a young Tully knight as a liaison, ostensibly to facilitate communication, but Ainz knew it was also to observe.
As they were escorted from the solar, Ainz felt a quiet sense of accomplishment. He had not only placated the Lord Paramount but had been given a mandate that suited his own goals perfectly – more powerful souls from the Blackmorass, and a legitimate reason to be exploring ancient, magically potent sites.
While at Riverrun for another day, ostensibly for his liaison to gather necessary documents and for Elian to peruse the maps, Ainz and Sebas overheard various conversations among the Tully household guards and lesser nobles. They learned of increased pirate activity off the coast near Seagard, of tensions with the Ironborn, and persistent rumors of strange, shadowy figures seen near the ruins of Oldstones, a place steeped in grim First Men history. This world was far from peaceful, teeming with potential threats and opportunities.
Departing Riverrun, Elian's retinue, now accompanied by the young Tully knight, Ser Desmond Grell, felt subtly different. They had arrived as a minor, almost laughable curiosity. They left as recognized agents of House Tully, tasked with a dangerous and vital mission.
As they rode, Sebas moved his horse closer to Ainz's. "My Lord," he murmured, his voice too low for Ser Desmond to overhear, "while you were in the Tully library, I took the liberty of a brief… perimeter sweep of the castle's outer environs."
Ainz looked at him, intrigued. "And what did your 'sweep' reveal, Sebas?"
"I detected a watcher, my Lord. Highly skilled. Not of Nazarick, I believe, but possessing an unnerving talent for stealth and observation. They maintained a significant distance, observing your departure from Riverrun. They seemed… particularly interested in our party."
Ainz felt a familiar prickle of paranoia, mixed with a hunter's thrill. Demiurge's agents, perhaps? Or someone else entirely, drawn by the growing whispers of his power? "Keep a close watch, Sebas. It seems our actions are attracting more than just the attention of noble lords."
The path ahead was fraught with peril, but also rich with possibility. The ley line leading north-east from the Blackmorass stones beckoned. The deeper secrets of the marsh itself awaited. And now, unknown observers were in play. For Ainz Ooal Gown, the game in this new world was becoming increasingly complex, and infinitely more interesting.