Council Chamber, Deddings Castle.
Lady Roslin unfolded Solomon's letter.
She read aloud, her voice softening.
"...gift half my spoils to Lady Rona to help her survive..."
"...return all loot taken from your lands, not a copper kept..."
"...offer the refugees to settle on your lands..."
She looked up, impressed. "Little Solomon knows his place. He is generous."
Maester Walder, old and withered, kept his eyes lowered.
"I will keep my promise," Roslin said, reaching for the map. "The fertile plains east of his current land. I will grant him that."
"My Lady, please reconsider," Walder croaked.
"Maester Walder, he achieved a miracle. He deserves a reward."
"You promised land, did you not?" Walder pointed a bony finger at a different spot on the map. A border region. "Give him this."
"That is disputed territory," Roslin frowned. "Several houses claim it. It's a mess."
"My Lady," Walder whispered, "do you know why some families must remain poor?"
"Because only in poverty do they depend on their liege lord."
"Solomon is rising too fast. He has wealth, fame, and an army. If you give him fertile land, he will grow too strong."
"A ruler must limit the soil where ambition grows."
"But he is loyal!" Roslin argued, though weakly. "If I cheat him, my honor..."
"Do you know what the smallfolk call him?" Walder asked sharply. "The Guardian of the Riverlands. The Black Lion."
Roslin's eyes hardened. That title was a threat.
"So," Walder smiled cunningly. "Give him the land. But make it land he has to bleed for."
"Let him fight his neighbors. Let him offend other houses. He will be isolated and forced to rely on you again."
"If he fails, his fame dies."
"If he succeeds... we agree to the Vale's proposal. Send him into the Mountains of the Moon."
"No one conquers the mountains. When he dies there, we take the land back."
"This..." Roslin hesitated. "It is cruel."
"Arrange a marriage for him," Walder added. "A knight's daughter. Let him have an heir. If he dies, we raise the child. That shows your mercy."
Roslin sighed. "I understand. I will write to my husband."
Deepden.
Solomon read Lady Roslin's reply.
She praised him. She granted him land.
But the letter mentioned casually: "The land is currently subject to a small dispute."
Solomon laughed bitterly. Small dispute. Right.
She also refused the refugees. "They belong to their original lands. Send them back."
Solomon smirked. That was actually good. Returning them to Deepden meant returning them to Rona—and by extension, to him.
Finally: "I will send the families of your soldiers to your new land."
Solomon's eyes narrowed. That was the carrot. But the stick was the land itself. It was a trap.
The letter ended: "Once you are settled, I have a matter of great importance regarding the future of the Riverlands and the Vale to discuss."
Riddles, Solomon thought. Damn these nobles.
He walked to the inner keep to see Lady Rona.
When he told her he was leaving, she panicked.
"No! Lord Solomon!" she screamed, tears flowing. "You cannot go! I... I cannot be without you!"
The terror of abandonment seized her again.
"Stay with me! Take everything! Take Deepden! Just don't go!"
Solomon looked at her weeping face. He didn't answer.
He stepped forward and hugged her tightly.
That night, he did not return to the army camp.