The Mountain of Ice and Fire

Across the Red Fork, Ser Thomas Smallwood of Acorn Hall roared, lance in hand, challenging the Mountain to single combat.

The Mountain did not respond to Ser Thomas Smallwood's challenge.

Thomas Smallwood was a loyal and courageous man, his wife Ravenna Swyn was virtuous and beautiful, and they had a lovely daughter who loved to sing and dance.

Killing such a good man held no interest for the Mountain, at least not yet.

King Robert was like the strict headmaster of a Westeros school. The headmaster hadn't left the classroom yet, but the Mountain and Tywin both knew he would be leaving soon.

The Mountain's ability to see the future was akin to a green seer in this world, while Lord Tywin had foreseen it through the prophecies of a witch. Therefore, before the headmaster left, students eager to brawl would do well to restrain themselves. Once the headmaster was gone, they could deal with their classmates as they pleased.

Even the kindest headmaster possessed authority. There was no need to openly defy the headmaster, especially since Robert Baratheon was known for his stubbornness and immense prestige—don't settle scores with your classmates in front of the headmaster: this was the message Lord Tywin sent to the Mountain via raven.

Of course, the Lord's original words had nothing to do with headmasters or students preparing to fight, but that was the gist of it. The Mountain, drawing on his college experience, translated and interpreted the meaning in his own words.

The ravens' messages were always sealed with the Lannister family crest, and no one dared to open a letter from Lord Tywin to the Mountain. Maester Wyman, with a strong sense of propriety, delivered the letters to the Mountain untouched.

No matter how agitated Thomas Smallwood became, he couldn't fly across the raging Red Fork. And even if he could, the Mountain only needed to lift his hundred-pound great hammer to kill him. There was no doubt about that.

Countless Riverlands soldiers watched helplessly as the Mountain raised the rope, pulling their future High Lord, Lord Edmure Tully, from the Red Fork's swift current.

Edmure was lifted from the river, his body slamming against the castle wall, motionless, as if he were dead.

Only someone as wicked as the Mountain would think to throw Edmure into the Red Fork from such an impossibly high castle wall. This method of punishment was the Mountain's invention!

When it came to evil deeds, the Mountain was serious!

As the Mountain hauled Edmure's motionless body up along the giant stone wall, the hearts of everyone inside and outside Riverrun were in their throats.

After all, no one had ever been tied up and thrown into the Red Fork from such a high wall. Was the young lord dead? Everyone was anxious, uneasy, and uncertain!

The Mountain dropped Edmure at his feet, and Berne reached in and pulled the underpants from Edmure's mouth.

"Damn, wet and dirty, can't use 'em again!" Berne said with a hint of regret.

"Give him mouth-to-mouth," the Mountain told Berne. This was the 'artificial respiration' he knew from his past life.

Edmure was still breathing, merely stunned by the water and the disorienting fall from the sky. It was normal to be unconscious.

Edmure was strongly built. Judging by the rocky contours of his face and thick beard, his frame was exceptionally robust.

Berne was stunned!

"Give him mouth-to-mouth, revive him, or I'll throw you into the Red Fork," the Mountain said politely to Berne.

Hearing this, the surrounding brothers all snickered, leering at Berne, the lord's attendant.

Clearly, they would love to see Berne tied up and launched from the wall.

They probably thought Berne would fly with more grace than Edmure.

"Revive him? Can I use another method?" Berne asked his idol cautiously.

Edmure's chest, clad in only a thin shirt, was moving slightly. He hadn't drowned. For Edmure, who had lived by the Tumblestone and Red Fork his whole life, swimming in the river since childhood, a little water was no problem.

He was mainly suffering from extreme shock!

The Mountain nodded.

Berne raised his hand and delivered a series of loud slaps to Edmure's face.

Berne hit so hard and with such force, the slaps were so loud, that the soldiers across the Red Fork could probably hear them.

Sure enough, the younger generation of knights and lords on the opposite bank angrily denounced the Mountain and his dog, Berne.

Cough!

Cough, cough, cough!

Edmure spat out a mouthful of river water, waking up with a blank, lifeless expression.

Berne grinned. "Lord Mountain, in our village of Arisa, we always slap children who've drowned! They wake right up!"

Though the Mountain doubted this 'slap therapy' could compare to his 'artificial respiration,' Edmure had indeed woken up.

Edmure slowly sat up from the ground, leaving a puddle of water beneath him. The once bold and rugged man was now a spiritless drowned rat, proving that even the toughest leader couldn't withstand the Mountain's torment.

The Mountain was playing with a new kind of 'excitement' that neither he nor anyone else had experienced before.

Berne's oral skills were innate and unparalleled in the world; while the Mountain possessed an unmatched talent for evil!

Each to their own!

"Ser Gregor!" Maester Wyman's voice called from below the wall.

The maester was out of breath, accompanied by two fully armed Clegane bandits.

"Maester Wyman!"

"The Lord requests that you show mercy, and release Lord Edmure. Whatever conditions you have, the Lord agrees to them all. Please, do not harm Lord Edmure any further."

Lord Hoster had been ill for three years. Once he passed, Edmure would be the sole heir to House Tully. He was an only son, and had not yet produced an heir.

If Edmure were to be harmed by the Mountain, who would inherit the Tully family's millennia-old legacy?

The Lord had a brother, the famous knight of the Seven Kingdoms, Brynden 'Blackfish' Tully, but he was even more stubborn than Edmure, refusing to marry the noblewoman chosen for him by the Lord. The brothers fell out over the matter, and Blackfish angrily left Riverrun. When Lysa Tully married Lord Jon Arryn, he went to the Vale and became the Knight of the Gate, guarding the Bloody Gate. He hadn't returned in over a decade, nor did he correspond with his brother Hoster.

Blackfish remained unmarried, and was aging, without an heir!

Edmure was in his prime, twenty-five years old, single, without a betrothed, without an heir!

Compared to the Tully family's millennia-old legacy, no amount of horses, armor, money, grain, or women could compare to a single hair on the head of the seemingly inferior Edmure, in Lord Hoster Tully's eyes.

The Mountain showed no sign of joy or triumph upon hearing Maester Wyman's words. "Maester Wyman, are you saying the Lord will agree to any conditions I name?"

"Yes, Ser, the Lord agrees to everything. Please, just release Lord Edmure, and do not punish him further!"

"Very well, a thousand warhorses. Let them be delivered to the Clegane riders at the Red Fork's west bank crossing first!"

"Yes, Ser Gregor!" Maester Wyman agreed immediately.

The Mountain nudged Edmure with his toe. "I'm letting you go for your father, Lord Hoster's, sake. Don't take my kindness for granted. Crushing you would be no harder than crushing an ant." The Mountain suddenly raised his voice, shouting fiercely, "Edmure, you better get your ass moving and get those horses across the river."

"Yes, Lord Mountain!"

Edmure struggled to his feet, pale-faced, his eyes vacant!

Thank you to the two book friends, ┍床緔拥紧袮、Chau534 for the rewards, thank you, handshake!