Robb (II)
Lord Robb Stark, acting Lord Of Winterfell and Warden Of The North in the absence of his father, Lord Eddard Stark... was not a particularly happy young man this holiday season.
"You did what?!" barked The Young Wolf. He was trying his best to maintain his calm and collected composure, but the anger in his voice was palpable. Even Grey Wind, curled up at his master's feet, had become slightly agitated, which was never a good thing whenever a direwolf was concerned.
"I knew you would be opposed to it, but I felt I had little choice," explained Catelyn, calmly yet defiantly, "so I ordered Ser Rodrick to seize the Imp and bring him here for questioning."
"On what grounds?" snapped Robb. "I am very disappointed in you, mother. Do you realize that you risked inciting the Lannisters to war? Do you not realize the danger that Father and Sansa and Arya are in down in the capital, what with the Queen and that foul Kingslayer and that Hound of theirs? What about Jory and Vayon and Little Jeyne too? And what about my lord uncle and grandfather down in Riverrun? I scarcely believe anyone will be spared once the Lions' wrath is incurred."
"Robb, you must understand," she replied, "that contemptible little Imp tried to have your brother killed! And when he learns of his Catspaw's failure, perhaps he shall conspire to try again! Who knows what nefarious little lies he must be spinning to Lord Kovacs as we speak."
"And on what factual basis do you make these assertions, may I ask?" shot Robb.
"Why, on the sworn word of my lady sister, Lysa Arryn Of The Vale!" replied Cat, "and of Lord Petyr Baelish, Master Of Coin to the Crown. That man has always been as close a brother to me as Lord Edmure. Together, the two of them have irrefutable evidence that the little monster and his siblings conspired to kill your brother. I am certain it is they who pushed him from the window, and when the Sky-People offered to cure your brother with their sorcery, they sent a sellsword to finish him off! They already killed your very own lord uncle, Jon Arryn of the Vale!"
"That may or may not be the case," said Robb (finding that petting Grey Wind's head had a remarkably calming effect on his own demeanor, as petting a dog usually does), "but either way, that doesn't exclude us from our duties. Lord Tyrion, guilty or not, is our guest for as long as he stands upon Northern soil. Father specifically commanded me as such in his last raven to ensure no harm came to him."
"Technically, he would not have been our guest until he actually entered the gates of Winterfell," added Maester Luwin, who had been seated by Robb's side but remained mostly silent until now. "And even then, simply entering a castle does not automatically make one a guest. He must be welcomed, invited. Premises liability and guest rights do not apply to prisoners or trespassers."
"Whatever," said Robb (surprising himself to the extent that he was starting to adopt some of these foreigners' mannerisms and forms of speech). He turned back to face his mother. "I am also displeased that you went behind my back to issue these orders. Need I remind you that when father is not here, I am the Lord of Winterfell?"
"But Robb, when else will such an opportunity ever avail itself to us?" insisted Catelyn. "As long as he stands upon the soil of the North, it our legal right to apprehend and put to trial those who commit trespasses against us. If I were you, I would march right up to the gates of Autumn's Frontier, and demand that he be handed over to the cause of justice!"
"I will do no such thing, not at this time," declared Robb, "not unless I can see this irrefutable evidence of Aunt Lysa's with mine own eyes. And I will ensure the bannermen understand that they are not to take orders from you lest it bears my seal of approval."
"That Imp is a consummate liar and a fiend, like the rest of that arrogant pride of lions he calls a family," said Cat. She held up her hands for all to see. "These scars I now bear upon me are all the evidence I need to know that the Lions tried to have my Brandon killed!"
"Yes, but they didn't succeed, did they?" said Robb, nonchalantly, "and thanks to Jon Snow, no less."
The fact that his lady mother said nothing in response to this, but merely glared on in silence, struck The Young Wolf as rather bizarre at first. Usually, she always had some objection to raise to the very mention of Jon's name. As of late, though, she had taken a slightly milder approach to the bastard. There was no doubt in Robb's mind that his half-brother's heroics had really starved Lady Catelyn of any negative things to say about him; and if she couldn't think of anything positive to say about Jon, she would simply say nothing at all.
After a moment of awkward silence, Robb read this as a sign to change the topic. He rose from his desk and strode over to the great glass window overlooking the fields outside Winterfell. Grey Wind too got up and followed his master closely. The young Lord Of Winterfell stood there in silence for a moment, gazing out of the window, taking in the great scene unfolding below him.
A couple thousand men were gathered in the fields outside of the castle – there were the Starks' own men-at-arms, camped under the white-and-grey Direwolf banner. Next to them were encamped the Talhart men under the sigil of the three sentinel pines vert, and next to them, the Glovers of Deepwood Motte under the gauntlet argent. Further afield was the encampment of roughly 500 White Harbor men, flying the white-and-green merman of House Manderly.
And at the furthest end of the field, demarcated by the pink flags they flew and the pink tents in which they housed themselves, were the latest batch of troops to arrive – these were the men of the Dreadfort, and the Dreadlord of Bolton himself had purposefully availed himself to come to Winterfell and help oversee the creation of the First Army Of The North. It seems that Lord Roose had a personal interest in seeing the fire-arms in action, up close for himself.
Right now, the men were undergoing basic drills. So far, only a few hundred of the much vaunted fire-arms had arrived, as well a couple of those incredible 'Napoleon guns' (Robb was surprised to learn that they were not actually named after the man he had adopted as one of his role models, but rather after his nephew, Napoleon Third Of His Name). Ammunition was in short supply, though Lord Kovacs had promised that daily deliveries would pick up once they had completed the expansion of their manufactorum. Robb quietly dreamed of the day the North would operate manufactora of its own – great mills forging steel, rows upon rows of blacksmiths working away to craft not only new fire-arms, but also things that would serve in peacetime rather than war – ploughs, drills, even simple nails… the possibilities were endless.
For the time being, until more fire-arms could arrive, the men instead contented themselves with practicing drill and formation, using wooden sticks in place of the eventual fire-arms and pikes (in the end, gunmen would actually make up only a tiny portion of the army – most of the forces would remain as dedicated pikemen and halberdiers). A complex system of signal flags, banners, drums, and trumpets were used to coordinate this titanic operation, but the Young Wolf was hopeful that when the time finally came, the handful of selected knights and minor lordlings would grow accustomed to their designated roles as field officers.
"War with the Lions may now be inevitable," spoke The Young Wolf, breaking the silence at last, "but I have no intention of firing the first shot – at least not until the First Army Of The North is ready for action. As it currently stands, they are not. Why, the Karstark, Umber, and Mormont forces haven't even arrived yet. And you, mother, nearly put us all in a very difficult position. But let us not dwell on what could have been. We shall not speak of this incident ever again to anyone… not even to Father, or Sansa or Arya or Rickon, or to Brandon when he returns. And especially not to Lady Aunt Lysa."
"Oh, Robb," said Catelyn, stepping forward to embrace her firstborn son. "I only wanted to do what was best for our family. The night that horrible man came for Bran, I... I felt so helpless, so afraid. I was so sure that... that..." She was having trouble finishing her sentence, so she cut to the chase. "I never want those Lions to ever hurt us ever again, not while I still stand among the living."
"I... understand," replied the Young Wolf, finally softening up a bit. "And it was a very brave thing you did, mother. I... I'm sorry... if I ever gave you reason to be upset." He returned his mother's embrace. Without waiting for his master's orders, Grey Wind too joined in, striding up to Lady Stark and licking her hands.
Robb then turned back to face the window, deep in contemplation. "The world has already changed so much and so quickly, it is terrifying to think about it. Sometimes I wonder if I am still the same person I was just three months ago. But let us be thankful to the Old Gods and the New that we avoided a major disaster for now – fortune may not smile so kindly upon us next time."