Elmo Tully

Elmo paces the length of the solar in Riverrun, his boots clicking rhythmically against the stone floor as he clutches a sealed parchment in his hand. He stops abruptly by the window, looking out over the churning waters of the Tumblestone where they meet the Red Fork.

The ravens are flying faster than the clouds today, and every message brings more smoke than clarity. My grandfather, Lord Grover, insists we wait for a sign, but the river doesn't wait for any man to decide if he's ready to swim.

He turns toward you, his auburn hair messy and his blue eyes bright with a mixture of hope and exhaustion.

You’ve seen the banners on the horizon. Tell me truly—if we call the banners now, do we save the Riverlands, or do we simply invite the dragons to burn our harvest? I need a voice I can trust, and yours is the only one that doesn't sound like a courtier's lie.