The first raven from Riverrun arrived three days after Vaeron assigned a clerk to deal with the growing mountain of marriage proposals concerning Rhaegar and Aerion.
I almost preferred the marriage letters.
Oscar Tully’s message waited among the morning correspondence in my solar, marked with the trout seal of Riverrun and addressed directly to me rather than the Small Council. That alone gave it more weight than the ordinary reports of stolen livestock, road disputes, and minor violence that still crossed the Riverlands.
The war had ended, but peace did not immediately return every sword to its sheath. Thousands of men had spent years learning that food could be taken rather than grown, that horses belonged to whoever possessed enough steel to keep them, and that armed groups received answers faster than peaceful ones. Some soldiers returned home to find farms burned, families dead, or lands occupied. Others simply discovered that marching and looting required less patience than rebuilding.
Banditry was inevitable. Oscar knew that as well as I did. His letter concerned something larger.
I read it once before carrying it to breakfast. Rhaenyra was already seated with Aemma and Maelor when I entered. Maelor had apparently decided that half a honeyed pear belonged to him because he touched it first, while Aemma was explaining with considerable seriousness why possession did not become lawful merely because someone reached across the table faster.
Rhaenyra noticed the letter in my hand. "You have the expression you normally wear when someone has discovered another way to make peace inconvenient. Should I assume this concerns something more serious than your sons receiving another collection of marriage proposals?"
"Oscar Tully believes a substantial bandit force is operating between Harrenhal and Stone Hedge. I was prepared to call it ordinary postwar disorder until I reached the third page."
I passed the letter across the table.
Oscar had received the first reports nearly two months earlier. Three farms north of the Blackwater Rush were raided during the same week. Livestock disappeared, stores were emptied, and two farmers died when they resisted. None of that was particularly unusual in lands through which several armies had marched.
Then the attacks increased. A merchant caravan disappeared west of Harrenhal. Two villages upon former Bracken lands were struck within four nights of one another. A patrol sent from Stone Hedge found one village still burning and followed the raiders into woodland, where the hunters became the hunted. Seven men returned from twenty-three.
Another patrol vanished entirely. More than thirty attacks had been confirmed by the time Oscar wrote to me, spread across too much territory for a single wandering gang to explain them easily.
Rhaenyra finished reading while Maelor quietly stole the disputed pear. Aemma noticed only after enough had disappeared to make recovery pointless.
"Oscar should possess enough men to handle ordinary bandits without asking the crown for soldiers," Rhaenyra said. "The fact that he wrote directly to you suggests he no longer believes that is what he is facing."
"That is my concern. Thirty raids across that much ground require either cooperation between several groups or one organisation capable of dividing its men without losing control of them."
"What exactly does Oscar want from you?"
"He wants help locating them before he is forced to call more Riverland levies. I would rather avoid that if possible. Those lands have only just begun replacing soldiers with farmers."
Oscar now governed Riverrun while administering Stone Hedge and the lands stripped from the Brackens. Villages were rebuilding bridges and mills with the crown’s tax relief, western reparations had begun arriving, and harvests were finally becoming more important than banners.
Calling thousands of men back into service would damage more than fields. It would remind armed neighbours how recently they had stood on opposite sides of a war.
"I will answer Oscar first and tell him to increase his patrols," I said. "There is no need to march an army into the Riverlands merely because thieves have learned how to move quickly."
Rhaenyra regarded me over her cup. "You are already deciding which army you would take if the next raven is worse."
"I am considering why Oscar repeatedly calls them an organised force instead of bandits. There is a difference between being cautious and having already decided to leave."
"You normally discover that difference immediately before packing."
I chose not to encourage her.
The matter followed me into the Small Council chamber. Vaeron spread a Riverlands map across the table while Oscar’s letter moved between the councillors. Tyland showed greater interest when he discovered that two of the missing merchant caravans had carried western goods as part of the renewed trade agreements.
Lyman Beesbury became interested the moment stolen royal revenues appeared. "Men stealing livestock remain a regional nuisance," he said after finishing the report. "Men intercepting coin owed to the crown have managed to become considerably more irritating."
Tyland glanced towards him. "Your sympathy appears remarkably sensitive to the location of the treasury."
"I am Master of Coin. No one appointed me Master of Cattle."
Vaeron ignored both men and marked several locations upon the map. "The distance between these attacks is what concerns me. One small group could not move this quickly unless it possessed fresh horses and reliable information. Either several bands are cooperating, or a larger force is operating in separate companies."
Rhaenyra leaned closer to the map. "Can Oscar estimate how many?"
"Not reliably. Survivors report anything from twenty to two hundred men depending upon which attack they witnessed. No one has found their principal camp."
Jace studied the marked roads from beside Sara. "They are striking routes between Harrenhal, Stone Hedge, and the smaller crossings rather than simply choosing the wealthiest villages. If robbery were the only purpose, some of these attacks make little sense."
"That worries me more than simple greed," I said. "Ordinary thieves follow wealth. These men appear interested in controlling movement."
Tyland considered the marks. "Or they avoid larger settlements because fortified places fight back. We should be careful not to discover another conspiracy merely because the last one made us suspicious."
That was precisely why I still wanted the simpler answer. The Riverlands contained deserters from almost every army that fought during the war. Western men, riverlords, Crownlanders, northerners, and Reachmen had all passed through. Any number could have discovered that returning home offered less than keeping the habits learned on campaign.
Vaeron listened before tapping the map. "Several independent gangs remain possible. The frequency is harder to dismiss. Oscar now reports attacks every few days, sometimes more than one during the same night. Either someone coordinates them or the Riverlands have produced a remarkably disciplined collection of coincidences."
Rhaenyra looked towards me. "You still want these to be ordinary bandits."
"I very much do. Wanting it does not mean I intend to ignore evidence suggesting otherwise."
Two days later, Oscar’s second raven ended the argument. Nearly sixty riders attacked a village east of Stone Hedge and took grain while leaving silver objects inside the sept untouched. The following night, another group felled trees across the Harrenhal road and ambushed the wagons forced to stop. Survivors described whistles passing between men positioned on opposite sides of the road.
A Harrenhal patrol later found abandoned fires large enough for several hundred men. That was organisation.
I sent for Blue Bat. He arrived in Unsullied armour with his shield upon his back and an interpreter walking several steps behind him. Blue Bat understood enough Common Tongue to follow simple commands, but complicated discussions still required translation. I had no intention of planning a campaign through gestures and half-understood phrases merely to pretend language did not matter.
I gave him Oscar’s letters. Blue Bat read the translated copies slowly before studying the marked map. He spoke in the tongue most comfortable to him, his words measured and quiet. The interpreter waited until he finished before turning towards me.
"He says men who raid because they are hungry usually return to the easiest roads until the villages become too dangerous. These raiders leave before resistance reaches them. Someone is telling them where soldiers are moving."
"You believe they have people inside the villages?"
Blue Bat answered before the interpreter rendered his reply. "He says that is possible, but scouts could explain some of it. Sixty mounted men require horses, fodder and replacement shoes. Several hundred require much more. An army of thieves cannot vanish unless local people help them, fear them, or simply know better than to speak."
I looked across the map. "Ask him how many men he would take."
The interpreter translated. Blue Bat studied the roads for several moments before answering. "Two thousand Unsullied," the interpreter said.
That was more than I expected. "Two thousand to hunt bandits?"
Blue Bat replied at greater length this time. The interpreter listened carefully before speaking. "He says five hundred men could defeat the bandits in battle. The difficulty is making them accept battle. Two thousand allows him to close the major roads while sending strong patrols into woodland and villages. If the enemy scatters, smaller forces will only chase shadows."
That was why I had summoned him. "Tell Blue Bat he will have his two thousand."
The interpreter translated my answer. Blue Bat nodded, then asked another question. "He wants to know whether Dravvaxx will accompany us."
"No. A dragon tells every man within fifty miles where I am. These people survive by disappearing before soldiers arrive. I would prefer them to see another slow royal column and believe they understand what we are doing."
Blue Bat considered that before responding. "He agrees. Once we reach Harrenhal, he recommends dividing the Unsullied into smaller formations so several roads can be watched at once."
"Not before Harrenhal. If these men are already watching royal movements, I do not want to offer them isolated companies to ambush on the journey. We arrive together. We divide only after we understand the ground."
Blue Bat gave a short answer. The interpreter smiled faintly. "He says that is sensible."
Rhaenyra disliked the timing more than the decision. We had only recently returned to something resembling ordinary family life. Gaemon’s birth had transformed one wing of the Red Keep into a competition between an infant and a dragon hatchling over which could make more noise. Rhaegar and Aerion were enjoying the lack of marriage announcements, while Luke and Rhaena had only begun settling into married life.
Now I was preparing to leave again. At least no one had reported seventy thousand wildlings this time.
"You are taking two thousand Unsullied to deal with thieves," Rhaenyra said while I prepared my belongings. "That suggests the word bandit no longer convinces you."
"It suggests I would rather arrive with too many soldiers than discover halfway through the search that Oscar has stumbled across a small army."
"You could send Blue Bat without going yourself. He is perfectly capable."
"He is. Oscar still asked me personally for royal aid, and Harrenhal belongs to the Freys. If this spreads into disputes over jurisdiction, captured deserters, or former rebel loyalties, Blue Bat should not have to translate royal authority through an interpreter while every local lord argues around him."
That argument carried greater weight. The Freys had received Harrenhal because Jace promised it during the war in exchange for passage and support. The crown honoured that promise afterwards. They now controlled one of the largest fortresses in Westeros and surrounding lands still scarred by armies. If several hundred organised raiders could operate beneath Harrenhal’s shadow, I wanted to understand why.
Rhaenyra watched me finish packing. "I would appreciate it if this did not become another campaign lasting half a year. You have developed an unfortunate talent for leaving on apparently simple matters and returning after someone has raised an army."
"I would also appreciate avoiding that outcome. If it helps, I am not taking a dragon, so matters are already less dramatic."
"That does not reassure me nearly as much as you believe."
I kissed her before she could improve the argument.
We marched at dawn. Two thousand Unsullied left King’s Landing beneath disciplined silence, shields carried upon their backs and spears rising in ordered ranks. Blue Bat rode near me because the journey required greater speed than a commander walking beside his formation could provide. His interpreter rode nearby, looking considerably more comfortable on horseback than Blue Bat did.
No Dread Legion banners accompanied us. No dragon shadow announced our position.
The Riverlands grew greener as we travelled, though scars from war remained wherever I knew to look. New roofs stood beside blackened foundations. Young trees replaced those cut for siege works. Villages possessed stronger palisades than farmers would once have considered necessary. Fields had been planted again.
Oscar met us south of Harrenhal with eighty Tully riders. He looked older than when the war began, though not merely because time had passed. Command had removed the need to prove his youth was not weakness.
He clasped my forearm. "I hoped my second raven would persuade you that this deserved more than another patrol."
"The first came close. The second contained sixty mounted bandits using signals and organised roadblocks. That improved your argument considerably."
"They are becoming more confident with every attack. I am less worried about how bold they are than about what has taught them they can act this way without consequences."
"So am I."
We continued towards Harrenhal. The castle rose above the countryside long before we reached it, enormous and dark enough to make every settlement around it look temporary. Frey banners now flew from towers built by Harren the Black, a sight that remained strange no matter how often I remembered why they were there.
The gates opened for our column. Unsullied companies entered the outer yard while Blue Bat began studying the approaches and damaged sections of the vast fortress. He spoke quietly to the interpreter, who relayed his questions to the Frey officers concerning roads, gates, patrol routes, and storage areas.
Oscar took us into the map chamber. More reports waited. Two farms attacked. Another patrol missing. A grain convoy taken intact.
I read that report again. "They kept the wagons."
Oscar nodded. "That troubled me as well."
Blue Bat leaned across the table and spoke to his interpreter. "He says men living from one raid to the next would take what they could carry and abandon the wagons before soldiers reached them. Keeping the wagons means they possess somewhere to bring them."
"Exactly."
Hungry deserters stole sacks. Organised forces moved supplies. I placed one finger upon the road between Harrenhal and Stone Hedge.
"Tomorrow we begin closing the roads. Blue Bat can divide the Unsullied into strong search groups once we have identified the routes worth controlling. Oscar, your riders will carry messages and scout open ground. I do not want them chasing men into woodland where another ambush can erase a patrol. The Frey garrison remains close to Harrenhal until we know how much information the enemy receives from inside these lands."
Oscar studied the map. "You believe someone is watching the castle."
"I would be, if I were leading them."
Blue Bat spoke while looking towards the windows overlooking Harrenhal’s yard. The interpreter translated. "He says if the enemy has watched previous patrols leave, they already know two thousand Unsullied entered the castle today."
"Good. Until now, they have chosen where every fight happens. Let them see us, decide whether to hide or move, and discover what fear does to their discipline."
Oscar looked towards the markings stretching across the map.
Somewhere between Harrenhal and Stone Hedge, hundreds of armed men had begun treating the Riverlands as territory belonging to whoever could take it.
I had dismissed them once as the refuse left behind by war.
I no longer intended to make that mistake twice.