His wails echoed on the city walls, filled with endless despair and pain, and the guards lowered their heads one by one as they listened to the sound.
Roger Lygg was completely insane; he walked erratically on the city walls, speaking incoherently.
He no longer cared if exposing his head would get him shot, only repeating a few sentences over and over:
"I have no son… I have no heir…
"The Legge Family is finished… Everything is finished…
His sorrow was quickly replaced by an overwhelming hatred.
"Arthur! You venomous snake crawled out of hell!"
His voice was hoarse, every word seemingly ground out with blood.
"I will drink your blood! I will eat your flesh!"
"I will make your skull into a wine cup!!"
He raised his head, cursing wildly at the pitch-black night sky above, his eyes bloodshot.
"Seven Gods! Where are you?"
"Why don't you protect me? Why don't you protect my son?"
"Are you all blind?! Are you all dead?!"
His curses grew weaker and weaker, eventually turning into low whimpers as he collapsed to the ground. He had never felt the night in Willow Wood City so long.
The thin mist of early morning was so damp, enveloping the inner keep of Willow Wood City.
Ser Brynden Tully's Blackfish cloak seemed particularly heavy in the dampness.
Robin Lygg, beside him, shouted up at the city wall: "I am Robin Lygg."
"Open the gates! We are here by order of the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands to mediate!"
The soldiers on the city wall peered out, their eyes filled with terror and suspicion. They were thoroughly frightened, unable to hold their spears steady.
Roger Lygg leaned against the battlements, staggering out. His hair was disheveled, stubble covered his cheeks, and his hair had turned white overnight.
He was naked, only draped in a velvet robe, which was stained with unknown substances.
He squinted, trying to make out the people below the city, then a voice, extremely hoarse, slurred, and even with a strange laugh, came from the city wall: "Robin Lygg?"
"What are you doing here? Come to visit my grave? My dear cousin!"
He then turned to Brynden, grinning.
"Blackfish, are you also here to watch me die?"
Roger Lygg's body swayed violently. A soldier on the city wall quickly stepped forward to support him, but Roger Lygg pushed him away with such force that the guard fell back to his knees.
He roared: "Open the gates, let these fish into the city."
Seeing the soldiers make no move.
Roger Lygg roared, spitting saliva: "Are you afraid to die? Dying is better than living like dogs!"
He pointed at the city gate, shouting at the stunned guards below.
"I said! Open the gates! Let them in!"
Seeing the soldiers' movements were so slow, Roger Lygg's voice roared hoarsely, filled with an unquestionable madness.
"I said, open the gates!"
The heavy winch began to turn, emitting a grating groan.
The drawbridge of the inner keep slowly lowered, and the thick oak doors cracked open a gap under the fearful gaze of the defenders.
The air in the bedroom was thick with the stale smell of wine and lingering despair. The windows were tightly shut, and heavy curtains blocked out all light from outside.
Roger Lygg was slumped in a large armchair, his hair disheveled, stubble covering his cheeks, his hair white, and he was naked,
only draped in a velvet robe, looking utterly decadent.
Ser Brynden sat on a stool, the creaking of the wood particularly jarring in the silence.
He spoke, his voice hoarse and hard like stones at the bottom of a river: "Lord Roger Lygg."
"Riverrun hopes you can negotiate with Arthur to end this war."
He paused, then continued.
"The Ironborn are harassing our coasts, and the Riverlands needs unity, not internal strife."
"A large fleet of theirs is gathering at sea, and no one knows where they are going. We have lost track of this fleet."
Robin Lygg also spoke, his voice tinged with earnestness: "It's not surrender, but negotiation, my dear cousin."
"Arthur's terms for negotiation are not harsh."
Roger Lygg did not respond; he just stared intently at the ground, as if everything he had lost was there.
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