The young lord hadn't left the safety of his lands before. He hesitated as he touched his hand to his horse's head, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply. His father's death had been sudden but not altogether unexpected. He had been praying in the Godswood when his life had ended. He had been found laying between the oldest Weirwood and the tombstone of the first Lord Ironfur.
The funeral service had been short but well-attended. While none of the attendees were nobles, the common folk had travelled from all over the lordship to pay respect to their passed lord. Here the House Ironfur was well respected, not a single man or woman of the villages and towns under their protection ever dissented to their rule.
But outside of the borders of the Ironfur lands they were a rather isolated family, openly disliked and looked down upon by other noble houses, even those with less power. House Ironfur was known for marrying lowborn women even when noble daughters were available, the Ironfurs claimed that they only married the best women and that heritage meant little. Any lowborn wives took the name of Winterbane as a sign of their common birth and, in the Ironfur lands, an honour of being chosen to be the wife of an Ironfur.
The raven had come a week before. Its letter bearing condolences for the death of the previous Lord Ironfur as well as a demand. He was to raise a suitable levy and ride for King's Landing as soon as possible. There he would defend the King, his realm and his people from the coming usurper. Idris Ironfur had been there when the last raven had told his father that he was not to raise forces to fight the war against the Northmen. The Ironfurs and their people were children of the First Men and followed the Old Gods. They were a risk on the field of battle against their northern brethren.
A door slammed across the courtyard. "Do I look like a cripple to you! I'm carrying a baby, I won't be carried by one! Leave me be." A young woman with hair like liquid fire dancing across her back and over her shoulders stepped through the door. She was followed by a short man in a green doublet, the maester. Her eyes were a deep emerald green and alight with anger as she walked. The maester however was wary, his pale blue eyes looking towards the Lord stood beside his horse in front of the stables.
"Jonella." Idris bowed his head to the woman. "How goes the day?" She glared at him, inciting a soft chuckle. He took her hand in his and brushed his lips across the knuckles. "I suppose Maester Lubeck wants you to remain at the Ironmountain instead of riding with us."
"Again." She still seemed angered. "He must have told me that it could risk the child being hurt on the journey at least a hundred times this week." Her arms folded over the barely noticeable baby bump. The maester hadn't bothered to continue crossing the courtyard and instead turned towards the rookery. He was well aware that it would be impossible to persuade the young lord to instruct his wife to do something she so clearly did not wish to do. Idris took Jonella into his arms and kissed her head.
"Of course you're riding with us anyway?" She nodded in reply. "Good, I've saddled Shade." He indicated the black horse three stalls down with the door open and a large black muzzle snorting. She smiled at him, kissing him on the lips gently before going to greet her horse. He shook his head clear again before mounting and riding out of the stables courtyard and joining the force he had been able to raise in the short time given. He had two dozen archers , 150 spearmen, four noblemen and their sons from the nearby lesser noble estates under Ironfur rule and twenty members of his family guard all with their own mounts in case of situations requiring mobility. He gazed upon the small band of skilled fighters. Many of the Westerlander houses could raise forces ten times as large, and if given a full moon's time to raise forces the larger houses could raise hundreds of times as many men.
He had heard rumours of the boy king upon the Iron Throne. He was harsh and cold with those who disappointed him. Perhaps rumours were simply rumours. But as he looked upon the force waiting for him he wondered if the boy might punish him for bringing so few men to his aid. Idris sighed. They would have to wait and see. Jonella's hand touched his arm, shaking him from his reverie. He smiled a soft smile and saw her roll her eyes. She rode down from the stables to the men waiting below seizing a banner from against a wall as she passed and waving it in the air grinning back at him.
The banner had a grey wildcat pouncing with a black triangle pointing upwards behind it all resting on a field of blood red. House Ironfur's banner. She fastened it into a holder at the back of her saddle and arrived at the lower courtyard. Many of the castle's inhabitants had come to see them off. Idris rode down to the men and called for the gates to be opened. He raised a hand and the column of soldiers left the castle. It would be only half a day to the Goldroad. Then half a week to the Capital from there.
But the seasons were changing and war was burning. Lord Idris Ironfur sighed and took his beautiful Winterbane wife's hand into his. He looked towards the distant hills that held the Goldroad on their backs. Neither seasons nor war would stop the Lord Ironfur.
Iron Fur, Iron Will.