The Burnt Lord watched as the ship that he had been smuggled out of King's Landing in pulled up at the pier. The city was obviously preapring for war. The ships were all beached, and in the process of being cleaned and refitted. The sounds of steel striking steel came from the many smithies within the city and all arriving ships were being thoroughly searched to find spies. Looking up, The Burnt Lord noticed the eagles that watched over them all. No doubt their handlers would be watched over safely in the Wolf's Den or another secure location.
As he watched an eagle spotted something it didn't like and swooped down to accost a man who had done something. Seconds later, the snowcloaks, the soldiers who patrolled and guarded the entire North, appeared from the crowds thronging the harbour and took him away for questioning.
The boat stopped moving and The Burnt Lord moved to where the gangplank was being lowered. Lord Wyman Manderly was waiting for him when he ascended from the ships deck.
"Lord Stark," Wyman said as he stepped forward, his enormous girth filling the narrow pier. "It is an honour to host you, I offer my most sincere condolences for the loss of your son. Do not fear Lord Stark, the men of White Harbour will not forget what Aerys has done. We will not let this insult against the Starks stand."
Rickard pulled back his hood and watched as Lord Manderly blanched and flinched away from his horrible visage.
"Do not worry Lord Manderly. My eldest son died in front of my own eyes and I cannot look at my own reflection without being reminded of his sacrifice. I will not let the insult stand even if I have to stand against Aerys alone."
Lord Wyman nodded, still struck at the extent of his scars.
"Come Lord Manderly, report to me on the readiness of the eastern navy. I want to know everything."
Lord Manderly nodded and fell into step beside him as they walked towards the Wolf's Den, the military base of the East. House Stark held four castles and the Wolf's Den was the first, and least, of them. The other castles were Mount Starpoint in the West and Moat Cailin in the Neck. The fourth was Winterfell itself, the ancient seat of the Kings of Winter.
"We have called all the ships back from patrol and have managed to consolidate 70 ships on this side of the Wolf's Maw. Their crews are all present and prepared for an extended engagement and we are just finishing refitting the ones we were using for trade now. By next week the entire Eastern Fleet will be ready to sail. The Warg Legion of Starpoint have sent down five wargs, each of whom use a sea eagle as a companion and on top of that we have a warg of our own who bonded with a blue whale. We also have ten boats already out patrolling the bite, looking for incursions from the royal fleet."
"Have you heard any word from my son Lord Manderly?"
"No your grace, we have given strict orders to all ships to keep an eye out for him, but there was a fierce storm not two nights ago that could very well have sunken his ship."
Rickard snarled at the thought. "My son did not die at sea Lord Manderly and I suggest you never say so again." Then in a lower voice he said "I have already lost one son, I have no intention of losing another. Put out every ship we have available until he's found."
"At once My Lord."
Lord Manderly gestured to a guard and gave him the appropriate instructions. Rickard was distracted by the lithe, young man striding confidently towards them.
"Lord Rickard," He boomed as he engulfed him in a hug, "I'll say you've seen better days!"
The Burnt Lord cracked a smirk. "That I have Beron that I have."
Beron Saltstark, Lord of Saltmaw and Admiral of the Eastern Navy released him from his hug and pulled back to get a better look at him. Beron was one of Brandon's friends from the days of the Wolfpack. He had been raised on the ocean his entire life, and when the opportunity came for him to captain his own ship at 17 years of age he had taken it with both hands. He had quickly risen through the ranks due to his excellent skills and had been named Admiral of the Eastern navy only a year ago. He was 26 now and a powerful lord in his own right.
If anyone understood Brandon and what Rickard had lost it was the man standing in front of him now.
"Brandon was my dearest friend Lord Stark. I know I do not have to tell you how much his death saddens me."
"Aye Beron. It saddens us all. Business now though Beron. I need to convene with all the lords at Moat Cailin. Can you organise a ship to take us through the Wolf's Maw when my son Eddard gets here."
Beron Saltstark bowed his head in deference and ran off to do his bidding. He had a good head on his shoulders Beron, and he would make a good Lord one day, perhaps even Grand Admiral of the Northern Navy.
Lord Manderly rushed forward, having finished given his instructions to his guard. Rickard turned to him. "Summon all the captains to the great hall of the Wolf's Den. I will have words with them."
Lord Manderly nodded and rushed away to do his bidding. Lord Rickard made his way alone to the Wolf's Den, an imposing structure of stone and steel. It had everything required to house the Eastern arm of the north's army. It had a shipyard, a stable, a warg vault, and it sat on the Eastern side of the White Knife, ensuring that none could pass deep into the North without the Stark's knowing about it.
The Grand Hall was a modest one and extremely martial. The only decorations were two Stark banners hanging from the walls beside the hearth. The captains were already gathered by the time he got there. There was 57 of them so he assumed some were late and the others were out patrolling the bite.
"Captains." He said as he ascended the platform and sat in the carved seat that acted as throne. The bowed their heads in deference and murmured replies. Many were transfixed by the state of his face and openly stared. Rickard didn't care. Let them see, let them look upon my visage and see what Aerys has done. Let my face fill their nightmares so they don't forget what we're fighting for. They all stood watching expectantly waiting for him to give his orders.
"Captains of the ships of the East. Look at my face. See the scars and remember when you go into battle. This is what we are fighting against. If we lose this war this is the fate of us all. Aerys knows no mercy. As such, we shall know no mercy. Take every ship you see. Put their crews to the sword. Take no prisoners. Give them the same mercy Aerys was prepared to give me and my son. Am I clear?"
The men nodded.
"Good. I promised my son I would avenge him and I intend to see that promise through."