Sword training continued under the watchful eye of Ser Desmond Grell, who cycled through guards of varying heights and fighting styles to test Edmure's adaptability. Edmure could now reliably catch a heavy blow on his shield and counter with a disciplined overhand strike, yet the progression bar remained stubbornly at Level 0. It seemed that what the world considered proficiency, did not translate perfectly into the cold logic of the panel.
He surmised that a true breakthrough might require the high stakes of a real fight—perhaps even a life-taking blow—but he felt no urgency to rush toward such a grim milestone. He was the heir of the Trident; he had guards and servants to handle the brutalities of the world. As long as he achieved a single level in Swordsmanship before the southern patrol, it would suffice.
Edmure was not planning to revolutionize the realm with this single tour. His goal was simpler: visibility and the appearance of competence. The patrol would stay within the hinterlands of Riverrun—House Tully's own backyard. The only potential threat was the shadow of House Lefford at the Golden Tooth, the castle guarding the pass into the Lannister heartlands, but peace held for now.
As he trained, he dissected the geopolitics of the Seven Kingdoms. The Reach was the undisputed champion of agriculture and population. The Westerlands held the gold and the iron will of Tywin Lannister. The Vale boasted an impenetrable heartland and a peerless knightly culture. Only then came the Riverlands. They were fertile and central, but without the strength to guard their many rivers, they were historically little more than a battlefield for others. Edmure wanted to see if he could find the levers to secure a breathing space within his own borders.
With his Infinite Stamina, Edmure no longer collapsed after practice. He lingered on the field, learning the maintenance of steel and getting to know the men and horses of the guard. Word of his undisputed status as heir had spread, drawing a flock of noble playmates eager to butter up the future Lord. In TV show, the stark children had a stableboy Wylis, 'Hodor the giant' to be their playmate. But for Edmure, the playmates were the sons of the nobles around Riverrun—Pipers, Vances, and Smallwoods.
Marq Piper, leading the group, proposed a venture: climbing the ancient trees near the wheel-tower to steal bird eggs. "There's a secret nest of magical birds," Marq whispered enthusiastically. "A guard told someone I know that, finding them is the final test of the Coming of Age ceremony. We could find them now and prove ourselves!"
"And was this someone perhaps my father's ward, Petyr Baelish?" Edmure cut in, slicing through the plan. To his ears, the suggestion reeked of a planned accident—a high fall onto cold stone.
"How did you—" Marq stammered, his face falling.
"I'm sorry, Marq," Edmure lied smoothly, fabricating a face-saving story. "The guard was someone I arranged. It's a game Petyr and I play to see how quickly a legend can spread through the servants' quarters. I never intended for you to be caught in it. Let's find a better place to relax."
The boys eventually settled in a remote corner of the castle gardens. While the others climbed for sport, Edmure brought his practice bow. He had reached a plateau with archery, so he had the guards tie targets to high, swaying branches where the wind was strongest. He needed to artificially inflate the difficulty to force a breakthrough.
For an hour, he loosed arrows into the gusting air while the other boys watched in silent fascination. Finally, a double chime sounded in his mind.
[Archery: Level 8]
[Verticality: Level 1 | Perk: +10% Jump Height & Fall Cushioning] Level 10: Climb Any Surface | Level 100: Unlock Flight | Level 1000: Apotheosis
The Verticality skill was a pleasant surprise. He had only been aiming for Archery, but the act of navigating the heights had unlocked a new path of mobility. Just as he was admiring the notification, however, his sixth sense flared. Edmure got into a defensive posture, looking for poisonous critters around.
After a while, Edmure realised that the alarm wasn't for a snake in the grass or a loose branch. It was the cold, prickly sensation of focused hostility. Edmure looked down from his perch to find Petyr Baelish standing below, his face wearing a mask of polite, helpful smiles, but his eyes burning with the frustration of a spider whose web had just been swept away.