Chapter 21 - The 27th day of October, 298 years after Aegon's Conquest
The news from King's Landing had at first been dire. Then it grew strange. Then dire again.
Only bits and pieces of news had filtered through this far north. His mother had seized the Imp at the Crossroad's Inn. Lord Tywin had protested and started amassing troops. Gregor Clegane was burning the Riverlands. His mother had written him from the Eyrie, warning of war. Then reports of the 'Maidenring' of some mysterious visitors from another land, of flying machines and lightning machines. Then the king had apparently been killed on a hunt. There had been no word yet on how fared his father or sisters.
Robb Stark did not know what to make of it all.
He went to check on Bran before breakfast, as he had every day the past week since the confrontation with the Wildlings. Maester Luwin had stitched it up and the wound on his leg was starting to heal. Bran said he had felt nothing, the only silver lining to his new status as a cripple.
Robb went down to the Great Hall where a score of men and women were already breaking their fast. Robb was served a plate of burnt bacon with some accompanying porridge. Theon entered shortly after and took the seat next to him. They ate in silence, though Theon was sending dark looks to the end of the hall whenever the captive wildling, Osha, entered to fetch the used pots and pans to be cleaned. She clanked as she moved, her wrists and ankles still chained.
Robb had nearly finished when he heard the noise.
Inside the hall it was a dull rumble, barely audible over the clattering and chatter of breakfast. Robb lifted his head, others followed. In moments all talk had stopped.
"What in all the hells is that?" Theon asked. No one could answer. At that moment the doors to the hall banged open. Joseth, the master of horse, ran into the room. He spotted Robb, who had never seen the man looking so agitated. He rushed over to his bench.
"My lord, something is…it's flying my lord!"
Robb rose, around him men did the same, driven by the unusual urgency of the man's voice. They quickly exited the room into the courtyard outside. Out here the noise was suddenly ten times louder. Robb looked up, and his jaw dropped open.
It was a sight so queer for a moment he could only stare. The object was colored green and brown and shaped roughly like a fish. Above it the air was a darkish blur, like looking through smoke. Whatever it was, it was hovering beyond the castle's walls, someway out over the Wintertown to the east. It made an incredible din, like it was producing its own localized storm. All across the yard men and women had stopped to stare. For a moment nothing but the roar of the intruder could be heard, then there was panicked shouting.
"Dragon! Dragon!"
People started running, where to exactly, few could say. Some men ran back into the hall or other buildings. Some might have thought to head down to the dungeons or somewhere else underground. Yet others, mostly men-at-arms and archers, instinctively made for the walls, as if readying to repel a siege. Robb was still staring, momentarily transfixed. Beside him, Theon was shouting.
"Robb! Was is it? What do we do? What do you command?"
Robb somehow tore his eyes away from the apparition. He looked around and noticed the panic gripping the courtyard.
Oh yes he remembered. I'm the lord here.
"Winterfell men, to me! To me!" he shouted. "To the East Gate!" Everywhere men had abandoned their food. Others were going to grab their weapons. Robb was one of the few who had his sword already buckled about his waist. Theon ran off to his chambers, shouting about his bow. When a dozen armed men had rallied to his side, Robb hurried across the yard. He ran through the Great Keep, passing startled servants and out into another courtyard on its other side. The East Gatehouse was up ahead. The drawbridge was still down, the portcullis raised. Robb hurried across it, passing between Winterfell's two great walls. Outside the castle, the thing came back into view. It was drifting away from the castle, perhaps half a mile distant now. The noise had receded a bit. It seemed to be getting lower.
Robb remained where he was for the moment. Before long, more men had rallied to him. Theon returned with his bow and a full quiver. Joseth emerged, leading another dozen men on horses. Maester Luwin also came, his chains dangling as he hurried as fast as his old legs could carry him. He was staring out in wonder.
"My lord" he shouted over the clamor. "Could this be one of the things we heard of? One of the flying machines from the south?"
Robb frowned. Only now was he making the connection. Father had written to him of the flying men, only he had talked of great white birds made of metal. Whatever this apparition was, it looked far less elegant. Like some giant green and brown wasp.
"It's not a dragon then?" one of the archers asked.
"Don't be daft, all the dragons are dead" Theon declared.
"So, it's a flying machine…" Robb said slowly. The Maester nodded, looking almost boyish with excitement. "What's it doing here then?"
"Perhaps your father sent it."
"He has not written to me of such."
"Maybe there was no time?" the Maester suggested.
There were maybe fifty armed men gathered now. Beyond the wooden huts and hovels of the Wintertown, the flying machine lowered itself further. A minute more and it had almost disappeared behind the houses.
With maybe fifty men around him, Robb looked around for someone with authority. Vayon Poole, the castle's steward, had gone south with father. Rodrik Cassel was the master-at-arms but had gone south with mother. So many appointments that were now unfulfilled. He turned to Farlen, the kennelmaster, who stood nearby holding an axe of his own.
"Stay here, if there's any trouble, tell them to shut all the gates. I give Winterfell to you and my brother Bran."
Farlen looked surprised but nodded. Without another word, Robb started down the muddy track that was the main road into the Wintertown. The rest followed cautiously. Robb wondered if he should go back for a horse but decided to continue on foot. In barely ten minutes they had emerged through the other side of the town. Ahead, the flying machine came back into view. It still gave off an incredible noise, the air above it blurred. Robb was trying to fathom why. Was it powered by some sort of noisy fire? It had landed in a clear field a short way beyond the town. A nearby flock of sheep had scattered before it.
When Robb's party was barely a hundred yards away, he saw some sort of door open along its side. Four figures came out, helmeted and dressed in green. They brandished metal objects that looked an awful lot liked weapons, though they were not swords or any sort of cudgel Robb had seen before. He raised a hand to halt his men. For a moment no one moved, then two more figures emerged from the flying machine, dressed in black. Behind all those were two smaller ones, one of them with long auburn hair.
Robb realized with a start they were his sisters.
Arya practically ran towards them. Sansa did not hurry, remaining poised as she walked besides the mysterious men in black that had accompanied her. Robb resumed walking, his men slowly spreading out behind him. Theon stood ten feet to his left, clutching his bow tightly, not quite pointed at the intruders. In moments Arya was within shouting distance.
"Robb! Robb!" was all she said, as she slammed into him like a galloping stallion. She wrapped her arms around his waist. Quite automatically, Robb pulled out a hand to pat her head, but did not take his eyes off the approaching men. The two in black and one in green walked by Sansa's side. Thirty feet away they paused.
"You are Robb Stark?" the first man in black asked.
"Aye, and who might you be?"
"I'm Patrick Huysing, a representative from the Commonwealth of Australia. You father, Eddard Stark, asked us to return your sisters to Winterfell."
"Why would he ask you to do that?" Robb asked. Where the hell is Australia?
"Lord Stark is returning to King's Landing to confront the queen, who appears to be trying to usurp the crown from King Robert."
Robb tried to absorb all this. He looked down at Arya, who was now switching her gaze between her older brother and the strangers. "These are friends of ours Robb" she explained hurriedly. "They took the king when he was wounded by a boar in the Kingswood. Then the king sent for father and they flew us to his side."
"Flew you where?"
"To Melbourne, the city of the flying men! You have to see it Robert. It makes King's Landing look like a crofter's village."
"I have not heard of Melbourne."
"Well of course not. It's through the Maidenring, in another world. There's…there's a lot to explain."
Robb looked back at 'Patrick Huysing'. The man had turned to Sansa. "I believe you father had a message for you to pass on."
Sansa nodded. She walked forward, doing a slight curtsy before Robb and his men. She clutched a small piece of paper which she held out for him.
Trying to appear calmer than he was, Robb finally sheathed his sword. The other men around him did the same. He unfurled the paper and read it. Theon peered over his shoulder.
"What news, my Lord?" Maester Luwin asked finally.
Robb looked up. He addressed the flying men first. "I thank you for returning my sisters safely. Will you and your men be requiring lodgment at Winterfell?"
"I thank you, yes, for the time being. We asked your father if we could stay by your side as you made your preparations."
"Then you will be our honored guests."
"What preparations, my lord?" the maester again. Robb turned to face him and the rest of the Winterfell party.
"My father bids us to call the banners and march south will all haste. We may be going to war."
######
The 28th day of October, 298 years after Aegon's Conquest
King's Landing was even more chaotic than usual.
With Humfrey Waters leading the way, Eddard's column was able to pass the Iron Gate unchallenged. Crowds parted before the long line of gold cloaks. Indeed, people seemed more wary of them then ever. Eddard noticed some people stare at them only to raise a hand to cover their eyes. Some proceeded to turn around and stumble away down the cobbled streets. Odd.
Eddard kept his back straight as he rode, feigning a sense of purpose, but to be honest he wasn't quite sure where he should go next. Straight to the Red Keep? Cersei would surely be waiting for him there. He had nearly two hundred gold cloaks at his back now, but their loyalty was questionable, even with his fresh appointment of a new commander. He had only four guards he truly trusted sworn to him. Maybe he should have asked the flying men to evacuate his entire household?
Almost without knowing it, Eddard found himself turning a corner into the street that held the Australian and American embassies. It wasn't hard to identify which manses they were. The line of large, green and brown painted vehicles was identification enough. Eddard rode up to the grouping of Australian commandoes. A number sat or stood atop their vehicles, others by the gates or on the roof nearby. The throngs of passersby were giving the embassies a wide berth for now. The street looked mostly deserted. Eddard noticed another group of begging brothers however, preaching on their crates down the street. All of them were blindfolded. Their leader continued to give his speech, not even knowing if he had an audience. Downright queer. He turned to the nearest commando.
"Is Lord Fifield within?"
"Yes, my lord" the green man replied. "I can let you in to speak with him, alone."
"Thank you" Eddard replied. He dismounted, handing the reins to one of his Stark guards. Another commando opened the gate for him with a nod. He walked down the short stone path and was let through the front doors. More guards escorted him upstairs, where Fifield was seated with several other men dressed in black.
"Lord Stark" he said, rising to shake Eddard's hand. "I'm glad you're here. The situation in the city continues to deteriorate."
"So it would seem" Eddard agreed. Fifield offered him wine or beer but Eddard declined. "I thought I should check here. Your people remain?"
"For now" Fifield said. "Canberra's looking in constantly" he gestured to a number of screens on the table nearby. Faces looked up at them. Several were in conversations with more men dressed in black. Eddard started at the 'video phones' curiously. The concept had been explained to him and he had seen them a few times now, but it was always a queer sight. Magic mirrors we use to talk to each other someone had explained to him. It was almost as miraculous as the flying machines themselves.
"Do you know if the queen is still at the Red Keep?" Eddard asked.
"As far as we can tell. Your household is still holed up in the Tower of the Hand."
"Janos Slynt's gold cloaks tried to stop us entering the city. I appointed a new commander, Humfrey Waters, but I am not sure of their loyalty. The queen may have promised their officers anything."
"Indeed, well even if you do command them, what happens if you march on the Red Keep? The queen may simply bar the gates to you."
"And with the rest of my men trapped inside, aye."
"Then it would be a siege within a siege."
"Tywin Lannister stills marches west, does he not?" Eddard asked.
"Yes, we have aerial reconnaissance over his army daily. He has a crossed a river…I believe you call it the Red Fork?"
Eddard nodded grimly. "Then he has indeed entered the Riverlands."
"There appears to have been some sort of battle as well along the river. We think it might be the force you sent, under Lord Beric."
Eddard blinked in surprise. "What of them?"
"We didn't see the fight itself, even our planes can't be everywhere, but he did see the aftermath. There were bodies, perhaps fifty or so, by the river. Here…"
Fifield grabbed one of the lighting devices, a large squarish one that folded out like a book. He tapped away at it for a while, then gestured for Eddard to sit. He did so and leaned in to look at the 'screen'.
The images were of a riverbank. Bodies were strewn about it. Above them lurked more men, except living and breathing, all dressed in red. Eddard could only gape as he recognized the fallen banners that littered the ground. A purple lightning bolt. A black ploughman on brown. A white sword and falling star.
And a Stark direwolf.
"Does that look like Lord Beric's party to you?"
"Aye, it is" said Eddard. "Most definitely." Did I send six-score men to their deaths? Including a score of my own guards? "When did this occur?"
"We took these pictures just this morning. The battle was presumably yesterday. Tywin's army now marches east towards…these is a castle here. According to your maps, we think it might be called Pinkmaiden?"
"The seat of house Piper, yes."
"Very well, then he might be intent on seizing the castle and advancing deeper into the Riverlands. We can keep you informed of his progress. He won't approach unseen."
"Then I thank you. At this rate, it seems clear he will arrive long before my son, and perhaps before Renly, depending on the resistance of the River lords."
"Then your task is to secure the city before he can arrive, is it not, Lord Stark?"
"Aye, that is my task. At the moment I have four men of certain loyalty and two thousand uncertain."
"Then let us consider, what allies might you have in the city?" Fifield asked seriously.
Eddard frowned. "There are a number in the royal court, with their own sworn retinues. Yohn Royce, Ser Balon Swann, Lady Tanda, Lord Gyles, the Redwyne twins…I do not know which are under the queen's influence however."
They discussed the issues at some length. Fifield had only been in the city for two months, but Eddard could not doubt the man's intelligence as they methodically discussed the options available to him. Before long however, one of the commandoes entered the room, shouldering one of their ugly weapons. He came to inform Fifield that in the street outside there was 'a lord with some knights and riders'.
"He asks to speak to Lord Stark, sir."
Eddard stood and walked into the corridor outside. He found a front window looking down at the street. A few feet beyond the front gate was a score of riders. At their head was a large man with grey hair, slate-grey eyes and bushy eyebrows. Eddard recognized him immediately as Bronze Yohn Royce. Fifield had followed him to look.
"So do you think you can trust him?" the ambassador asked.
Slowly, Eddard nodded. "More than anyone else in this city I can think of. I've known Lord Royce more than twenty years." He asked his leave and went back down the steps and out the front doors. His own guards were already mingling with those from the Vale. Humfrey Waters and his gold cloaks waited a bit further apart. Bronze Yohn spotted him immediately.
"Lord Stark!" he said in a booming voice. "How fare you my lord? How fares the king? The most incredible rumors are spreading."
"Aye, they are" Eddard agreed, walking up beside the Vale lord and clasping his hands. "The king is alive, I can assure you. The flying men saved him from his wounds. He is recovering in Melbourne, through the Maidenring. It is now my duty to restore order to the city in his absence."
"The queen tells us he died. The man's squire and a kingsguard swear to it."
"With respect my lord, that is a falsehood. The queen appears to be spreading vicious rumors, trying to take advantage of the king's absence. Don't forget the king's squire is her cousin, and ser Preston is from the Westerlands as well."
"But, why would she spread such a lie?" Lord Royce asked bluntly.
"There is a lot to explain my lord. I need to secure the city. Can I ask for your assistance?"
Lord Royce nodded. "Of course, my lord Hand. What would you ask of me?"
Eddard looked over his retinue. It was hardly an army, but they looked like competent soldiers. "How many men do you have?"
"Eighteen, six of them knights, including my own two sons" he said, gesturing at Andar and Robar nearby, who nodded, each giving Eddard a polite 'my lord'.
Eddard thanked him and mounted back atop his own horse. He looked around at the assembled riders, now crowding out the street. Twenty-two probably loyal men he thought and two thousand uncertain. He came to a decision. "Let us ride to Visenya's Hill" he declared, loud enough for his voice to carry. "I must speak with the High Septon."