Donnel Sarsfield, also known as Joffrey from years past, had knights guarding him, some from the Sarsfield family and others sent by the Lannister family. Sandor Clegane, wearing a black dog-head helm, currently served as Donnel's personal guard captain.
In recent years, Donnel had been close to Jaime Lannister. According to the people of the West, he had shown immense bravery in the Battle of the Stepstones, and afterward, Jaime had knighted him.
The flag bearer raised the Sarsfield family's arrow banner, while Donnel himself wore a golden-red armor, adorned with intricate lion designs and embedded jewels. With his blonde hair and green eyes, he looked every bit the noble Lannister, no wonder Tywin was willing to recognize the inheritance rights of this son of Jaime.
The banquet in Riverrun was boring for him, so Donnel, along with his subordinates, left the castle to visit the tournament grounds, planning to run a few laps on the field himself.
Under Stannis' guidance, these temporary tournament grounds were becoming more standardized and organized, alongside the stone-and-brick structures built in the larger cities.
The workers constructing the grounds wore belts with deer-head embossing, indicating they were Stannis' direct subordinates, while the locals hired as laborers wore no such belts. Cartloads of materials were being unloaded, and the arena was nearly finished.
Many people had come to the grounds for leisure. Some were already seated in the stands, boasting about their bravery in past tournaments. Older nobles, holding ornate umbrellas as walking sticks, were gathered in groups of three or four, discussing the odds of the various participants this year.
The first batch of umbrellas made by Wright had been delivered. They were scarce due to the lack of mass production and had mostly been custom-ordered by the wealthiest nobles. The umbrellas had long, straight handles, tightly wrapped canopies, and the handles were intricately carved from metals, ivory, or expensive woods. Some nobles didn't like carrying swords or daggers, and walking with a cane made them appear frail, so these umbrellas served as a status symbol—something to hold and show off.
There were also many white or pink ladies' umbrellas, embroidered with lace. Many noblewomen's maids carried them, though they were less effective against rain, they were perfect for shielding from the harsh sun. The umbrellas featured beautiful family crests and lace edges, matching the ladies' dresses, making them the center of attention as they walked through the crowd. This fashion trend had started with the young Rose Margery in King's Landing.
Umbrellas hadn't yet caught on with young men, who still preferred to carry swords and daggers.
On the tournament grounds, a few young knights were jousting.
Donnel Sarsfield stood at the sidelines, eager to join, but he knew his own skills well enough and took note of the cheap iron armor the young knights were wearing.
"Tch, a bunch of poor fools!" Donnel dismounted and walked toward the stands, with Sandor following behind.
"Good dog, who do you think will win?"
Sandor Clegane glanced at the knights, shook his head, and, being his usual quiet self, didn't bother to respond to Donnel. His silence was his answer.
"Can't say more than a few words a day, almost a mute." Donnel knew Sandor's nature but enjoyed provoking him.
"These men can't win." A voice from the side spoke up.
Donnel and Sandor turned to see a commoner standing there. "Oh, and what makes you say that?"
Ramsay Snow, having stolen some clothes and taken a bath by the river, had sneaked into the tournament grounds early. This spot offered one of the best views of the arena, apart from the VIP section which was still under construction. He was certain Donnel would come here to watch, so he had decided to wait.
"The knights participating in the tournament won't reveal their true strength to the enemy. The people on the field now are just non-participants," Ramsay explained.
Donnel looked at the knights on the field. Their skills seemed mediocre compared to his father Jaime's. It did seem true.
"And who are you?" Donnel sized Ramsay up.
Ramsay gave a noble bow. "I'm Roddy, a hunter. The pelts I brought have all been sold, and now I'm here to have a look."
Donnel raised an eyebrow. "You know noble etiquette?"
Ramsay replied, "Not only do I know noble etiquette, but I can also read and write. I planned to come to Riverrun to see if I could find a good position, but they all looked down on me."
Donnel wasn't interested in positions but asked, "I heard there's betting at every tournament. Yet I can't seem to find a place to place my bet."
Ramsay smiled and pointed to the workers around them. "My lord, ask those with embossed belts. Afterward, the bookmakers will arrive. If you need, I can take care of it for you."
Donnel replied, "Good! Go find one for me now!"
Ramsay immediately nodded and ran off to ask the workers, thinking that these spoiled nobles certainly enjoyed such things. He was already half into their door.
It didn't take long before Ramsay returned to Donnel's side, holding a piece of paper. "My lord, here is the list of participants for the Riverrun tournament and their odds."
Donnel took the paper, examining it with excitement. He casually pointed to a name. "If I bet on him to win, does that mean if I place one coin, I'll get double if he wins?"
Ramsay leaned over to look at the names on the paper. The combatants listed were all well-known nobles. "My lord, no one can guarantee a win."
Ramsay then pointed to a group of lesser-known participants. "My lord, bet on him to win!"
Donnel asked, "Can you guarantee he'll win?"
"No, but I can guarantee his opponent will lose!" Ramsay smiled, his eyes glinting with a hint of coldness.
Sandor, standing behind them, grew alert when he heard Ramsay's words. His hand moved to the hilt of his sword.
"Haha, I'll bet on him to win! Handle it for me!" Donnel laughed.
"Don't worry, my lord," Ramsay took on the task, but he didn't leave his spot.
Donnel looked at his face. "Greedy little man! Sandor, give him some money!"
"Thank you for your generosity, my lord. We'll see tomorrow," Ramsay said, taking the money.
Archery tournaments required the least from the grounds and would start the next day, so there was no need to wait for the arena's completion.
That night, Ramsay went to the riverbank to pick some wild herbs known to cause stomach issues and found the tent of the competitor he had pointed out earlier.
This man was the son of a hunter, skilled with a bow, and lived nearby. His name and his event were well-known to the locals.
Killing someone in this area wasn't easy, and the poor had little regard for food quality, so Ramsay quickly drugged his food. It wasn't long before the unfortunate man was clutching his stomach and running toward the river.
Meanwhile, Littlefinger was also at work that night. Taking advantage of the darkness, he snuck into the Silent Sisters' quarters while muttering, "If I have Lysa Tully, I have everything. I must have Lysa! I will get Lysa! Lysa, here I come!"
He quietly entered the room where the Silent Sisters slept. The women were already asleep, and since their veils were symbols of the Seven, they didn't take them off even while sleeping. Littlefinger dared not light a candle, relying on the moonlight to distinguish their hair colors. Fortunately, only one had red hair, while the others had black.
"Finally found her!"
Littlefinger gently woke the woman. As she stirred, she looked at him in terror.
"Lysa! I'm here to rescue you, come with me," Littlefinger said, pulling her forcefully.
The Silent Sisters had sworn to the Seven to never speak or may have had their tongues removed. Littlefinger knew this well, which is why he dared to sneak in, unafraid that they would scream for help.
The woman was weaker than him, and no matter how much she struggled, she was dragged to the door. The other Silent Sisters woke up, staring at them in shock, but said nothing.
Outside, in the brighter moonlight, Littlefinger realized the woman's eyes didn't resemble Lysa's at all. He tore off her veil. "Who the hell are you?"
The tearing sound had already woken the nuns and priests, who rushed out of the bedrooms to find a man handling one of the Silent Sisters.
"Help! Help! Someone is trying to assault a Silent Sister!"