Ned
Ned rubbed his jaw underneath his left ear, thankful that his beard covered most of the now faded bruise. Weeks had passed since Benjen had left Winterfell. Benjen had traveled with the Manderly retinue and Larence Snow to White Harbor because a son of a southern Lord was joining the Watch, and he had been sent as an escort. Wyman was needed back in White Harbor to take care of a dispute between squabbling merchants, and he had taken his granddaughters back with him. He had stated they would return as soon as they could.
Ned felt Wyman needed to depart and begone from Winterfell for a time. Wyman was becoming very important, and Ned had sensed the other lords were noticing it as well and drawing their own conclusions, time away from Winterfell for the Manderly's would do some good.
Still, none of that seemed to matter at the moment as Ned thought about how he and his brother had left things. Ned continued to rub his jaw. While the bruise had long faded, there was still a shadow of pain. He had seen his brother's clenched fist, and mistook his shaking for crying, and was surprised by the fist that came flying towards him.
The last time they had fought like that was when Ned forced him to stay at Winterfell to wait out the war, Benjen had pleaded and begged him to come along and find their sister, to avenge their father and brother, but Ned had refused. Benjen had taken a swing at him in grief then as well, then hugged him fiercely and begged him to return and to have their sister with him.
And when Ned had returned with the remains of their sister, he didn't see his brother for two months. Benjen took a horse and left for the Wolfswood and Ned feared he would lose another brother to grief, and in a way he did. For when Benjen returned, he took two days of walking around Winterfell, not even stopping to look at Robb or Jon and then left, fled to the Wall, and Ned was alone in his grief. And Ned buried it, buried it deep, and spent his time repairing the North, getting to know the mother of his child, and spending time with his children. Her child.
He didn't know how Benjen didn't see it at first, how none of them saw it. Maybe it was because Benjen was the youngest and didn't see Lyanna grow up, for when Jon was a babe, he looked just like her, and as he grew, he started to look so much like him. For years and years, Benjen had come from the Wall as an envoy to him to ask him for men, steel, food, and other supplies. He would spend a day or two with his children then head back.
Ned never knew that he knew, he never knew Benjen had figured it out. Not until his brother's fist came flying at him.
Ned had tried to reel back, but it was too late, and it struck him in the jaw. He had stayed on his feet but stumbled backward. When Ned had looked up, his brother was staring at him, grief and fury in his eyes, just like they were both young men again, but no embrace waited for him.
"How could you?" Benjen asked, tears gathering in the corner of his eyes.
"Benjen I don-"
"Don't!" Benjen yelled, pointing his finger at him. "Don't, Ned!" Benjen's voice broke as he struggled for words. "How could you? All this time? Why didn't you tell me?" The look in his younger brother's face confirmed it, and Ned looked down, gave a heavy breath, pushing his grief down to its proper place.
"How long have you known?" Ned asked.
"Does it matter now?" Benjen said, but when Ned didn't respond, he continued, "Last time I was here, it was the smallest thing, the smallest remark from Sera." When Ned looked confused, Benjen explained, "The woman who runs the orphanage." Ned nodded, "I was saying goodbye, and he was playing with the children, then Sera told me as Jon left, 'He reminds me of your sister.' I thought nothing of it at the time, but it ate away at me, and one day past the Wall, something clicked." Benjen sat down and went silent, and Ned moved his jaw back and forth to make sure nothing was broken.
Benjen seemed to have calmed down, and Ned went to put a hand on his brother's shoulder. It was a mistake. Benjen grabbed his hand, stood up, and pushed him back, "Why didn't you say anything?" His brother asked.
"You were at the Wall, you see him every year or so."
"That's not what I meant. All those years ago, why didn't you tell me? I could have-" Benjen started, but Ned interrupted him.
"Done what? Raise him? Do you know how foolish that would seem, you raising my bastard? And how could I have told you, I didn't see you for two months and before I knew it you were gone, and I was alone. Alone Benjen! To pick up the pieces of our family's foolish choices!"
Benjen turned angry, tears starting to form, "I would have protected him, for her."
"And what do you think I tried to-"
"Try?" Benjen gave a mirthless laugh, "You sold him, banished him for saving a girl. To do your friends in the south a political favor."
"I di-" Ned tried.
"Selling your own blood for political favors, Father would be proud," Benjen sneered.
Ned snarled, and before he knew what was happening, he lunged at Benjen. Soon they were grappling, exchanging a few body-blows until Benjen's fist connected with Ned's face again, and they disengaged. Both were breathing heavily, staring at each other from across the solar. Parchment and ink had been knocked about, and one of the bookshelves had cracked and broken. Benjen stormed to the door, opened it, and started to leave when he turned back, "She would never forgive you."
She would never forgive you. Ned broke from his memory. The crypts were dark and damp, the only light coming from the torch he had hung on the Wall. Ned had been down here countless times, and each time he stood there, unable to look at her statue for more than a few minutes until the grief was overwhelming.
He initially had hope, hope that the ship would turn up, that someone would deliver the news to him that Jon was safe, rescued, and returning to him. Each passing day those hopes had turned to dreams, then the dreams had become nightmares.
When Benjen had left Winterfell that night, he had to go gather his children and tell them of the news. Bran had been adamant about not believing it, Rickon had been confused and upset and Sansa downtrodden. When he went to the godswood, he came across Robb and Wylla, who had obviously been holding hands and speaking, and they awkwardly excused themselves from his presence while Ned prayed to the heart tree, to his gods. Eventually, someone hugged him from the side. Ned turned to see Arya and who was sobbing into his cloak, and Ned just held his daughter, and they had cried until she had fallen asleep.
It had been a dark few weeks, and Winterfell had mourned.
Ned finally gathered the courage to look at his sister, but again he couldn't hold her stone gaze and left the crypts. She would never forgive you.
The sun was just coming up, and Ned had work to do. With practiced ease, he pushed the grief aside, preparing for a long day. Benjen was returning from White Harbor with the heir of a southern house today, and Ned had to oversee the final preparations of supplies to be sent along with him.
It was a difficult choice but needed to be done. The coin that House Stark was receiving was immense, and Ned had poured most of it either into the developing shipyards near the mouth Torrhen's River or finding proper locations to build lumber mills within the Wolfswood or working the timber down the North's rivers. They had the gold, yes, but the progress on the shipyards had been much slower than even the slowest projections.
The reason was due to the one resource the North did not have in surplus, men. The North had too few men that were working on the shipyards as most were in the Wolfswood, cutting down the timber, or employed to transport it. To make it worse, Tormo was having trouble finding competent shipwrights willing to come North and stay. He may have to turn south, send ravens to Gulltown or Seaguard, which only caused him to cringe into himself.
No, that wouldn't do, he needed to do something more substantial than ravens. I could send Robar south to his father. If he could stomach any southerner, it would be the Royce's of Runestone, one of the few families that had sided with him at the wedding. Still, the second son of Bronze Yohn had become a pleasant fixture at Winterfell and Cerwyn. He was someone who had become close to his boys as well. He is a gifted fighter, maybe when Rodrik gets too old, I could ask him to stay on as master-at-arms.
Ned refocused his thoughts back to the south. He should order Wendell south as well, to try to see if his good-father would aid them because he was sure Lord Grafton would still be angry about the events of his daughter's wedding and a simple raven might be insulting. Ned shook his head. Far less aggrieved than I am than I ever will be. Still, his anger does not come before the good of the North.
Guilt came again, and Ned fought it back down as Jory knocked on the door. "My Lord, your brother is here with recruits, with Wendel Manderly." Ned nodded, but Jory stood there, "My lord, Lord Manderley has brought Tamir Fregar and a few of his ilk." Guilt was quickly replaced by anger again, but Ned affixed himself with the neutral expression, but he was seething underneath.
The procession of recruits for the Wall was more numerous than he had expected. Ned counted nearly sixty men with five or six wagons, the last carrying four men with a red archer on their surcoat and a boy almost as fat as Wyman Manderly, bundled in so many furs Ned worried he might faint from the heat.
Benjen came then, trotting in on a grey garron next to Wendell Manderly and Tamir Fregar, the latter of whom had a broad smile and bright clothes which made Ned struggle even further to keep his temper in check. He was flanked by the two men that fought alongside Jon at the tourney all those months ago. Med- something and Arridos . Ned's fist clenched hard enough that he thought he'd pierce the leather of his gloves.
Benjen dismounted and kindly greeted his children, then turned to him, with a cold gaze, "Lord Stark, we request bread and salt, roof and supplies as we make our way back to the Wall." Ned looked and noticed that thirty of the recruits were chained on both their arms and legs. Benjen must have seen and nodded to him, "These men will need to stay in the cells for our duration, most are murderers, some rapers, and four thieves and a poacher."
Ned turned to the unchained men, most were two or three years older than Robb. "What about them," he asked Benjen, "what did they do?"
"Nothing, just looking for a hot meal once a day," Benjen answered.
Ned nodded, then the fat boy covered in furs had dismounted from the wagon and made his way over to him. The boy was nervous, and the men at arms looked either annoyed or bemused at the scene.
"L-lord Stark, my name is S-s-Samwell Tarly," The boy stuttered then gulped loudly before continuing, "Th-thank you for allowing us to spend an evening under your care."
"It is my pleasure, ser."
"I-I am not a kn-knight," the boy stuttered.
"You have our hospitality all the same." Ned motioned for the bread and salt to be passed out to all those that had arrived, Benjen included.
Benjen was quickly taken away, and Ned had noticed Robb looking at the end of the procession before looking down in disappointment and following his group of friends back towards the training yard.
Tamir came before him and bowed, and started, "Lord Stark, thank you for welcoming me into your-"
Ned's temper flashed and couldn't stop himself from interrupting, "We will speak later, Tamir."
If Tamir was offended, he didn't show it and instead was led away by one of Poole's men to his chambers. Ned didn't care what the man said, and if Ned and his brother weren't in a fortuitous trade deal, he would have him thrown out of Winterfell and exiled from the North. Ned tried to put the Braavosi out of his head and focused on the recruits, forcing himself to concentrate on anything else to keep his anger from spilling forth.
The unchained men were slowly being led into the great hall when Ned had that thought. Ned walked towards them, flanked by Jory and Harwin, whose hands were at the ready. Ned approached one that was smaller in size, quite plain with little eyes darting around. "You, what is your name?" Ned spoke with the authority of someone befitting his station.
The procession stopped, and the short man's eyes darted back and forth in annoyance. Then widened when he saw who was speaking to him. He remained silent whether out of fear or surprise, it mattered little to Ned.
"My lord asked you your name," Jory said with some iron.
"M-my name milord?" He croaked out.
"Yes, what is your name?" Ned asked again, starting to think this was foolish.
The man swallowed, then cleared his throat, "Todder, milord."
"Where do you come from, Todder?"
"The Paps milord," Todder answered.
Ned looked at him in confusion, "What are you doing joining the Watch?"
Todder shrugged, "I don't like the water much, me mum died and me da' never came back from the sea. Not much else that will give you a meal."
Ned nodded and moved to the next one, "You, what is your name?"
"Pypar milord."
"Where are you from?" Ned asked.
"Wickenden," Pypar answered.
Ned moved on, "You?" he asked the tall one that was built sturdy.
"Me, milord?"
"Yes."
"Grenn, milord," when Ned prompted him, Grenn continued, "Vale milord."
"Your village or town?" Ned asked.
"Three Rocks milord, named for the three stacked rocks near the well."
Ned didn't respond but instead looked at the other men gathered in his hall. Specifically, those men that were searching for a hot meal the Watch could offer. Aside from a couple of them, they all seemed simply underfed and poorly dressed. Still, Ned went through with his plan, "Could all of you that are not guilty of a crime raise your hands?" The recruits just looked at one another. Then all those that were unchained and even some that were there that were still chained raised their hands. Ned ignored the latter then spoke to them all, "Joining the Night's Watch is an honorable deed. Benjen, my brother would be your First Ranger, and he would be lucky to have you." Ned paused, unsure of how to continue but did anyway, "However, there is other work in the North. Difficult work, but work that needs doing and will pay a fair wage. I need men to help build shipyards south of here, or there are still lumber yards that need men." A few heads perked up, including the young man Grenn. "If you want to swing a sword and fight wildlings, defending our lands, then the Watch is for you. However, I do have an alternative. If you wish to travel south and work as a builder, Harwin here," Ned indicated to his guardsmen, "will take your name, and you will leave Winterfell at the end of the week."
By the time he finished, many of the unchained men had looked interested. Todder was already moving towards Harwin when he left the hall. One of the wandering crows, Yoren, he believed was giving him a sour look, but Ned ignored him. He needed the workers, no matter how unskilled. He still held out hope that Tormo could find him experienced shipwrights, even those that could come for a season or two.
Speaking of Tormo. Ned turned back to Jory, "Find Tamir, tell him we will meet now."
Ned had just sat down in his solar when Tamir was allowed in. The usually chipper man had the manners to look somber.
Before the man had even sat down, Ned was already speaking, "I asked of you one thing paid your brother well for it. One thing. Keep him safe." Tamir looked down to the floor, abashed. "I trusted you with Jon, and you weren't even with him?" Ned lost all sense of propriety, "Where the fuck were you!"
Tamir looked up then, there was anger in Braavosi's eyes. "It wasn't my choice, Lord Stark. You told my brother Jon was free to choose what he wanted to do, and your son wanted to train and become part of the Hallowed Demons. So I gave him over to my uncle, the commander of our company to be trained with the initiates."
"So why was he sent as an escort for a merchant?" Ned asked.
Tamir sighed, "All initiates are sent on contracts as part of a crew with experienced soldiers. This one was supposed to be simple. I knew the man that led them, he was a good soldier."
Ned felt some anger leave him and instead started to feel tired, "Why are you here, Tamir?"
"Because, initiate or no, Jon was part of our Company, and he wasn't the only one that was lost." Tamir smiled then, "Gods, Lord Stark, you should have seen your son training. One of our trainers would punish him, try and pit others against him. Everyone saw something in him, Lord Stark," Tamir seemed to drift off for a moment then returned back, and there was a frown, "Also, I knew the other soldiers as well, served on more than one contract with each of them, and we do not let people kill our men without retribution."
Ned perked up at this, "Kill? As in, you know who attacked them?"
Tamir moved his hands up and down, "Not exactly no, not yet at least. My father was...well, he was not known for his reputable work and actions, and though Tormo has moved on from most of it, there are portions of my father's dealings that my brother still uses."
Ned gave a quizzical look, "I don't understand. Speak plainly"
"My brother is well informed, and pays very well to be so." Tamir took a deep breath, "When word of the ship's disappearance reached us, my uncle and brother, they immediately started to get the word out to their men. They learned that the spice merchants of Pentos did not look too fondly at someone trying to encroach on their business. No matter how insignificant Marcelino was."
Ned looked a little surprised, "They hired pirates to kill the merchant?"
Tamir nodded his head in agreement, "It is more complicated, let's just say the Three Daughters and Pentos have an uneasy agreement with some of the major 'Lords of the Stepstones', as they like to call themselves, Lord Stark. If they need a ship to disappear or competitor's merchant ships ransacked, they let slip the details of its travel to one of these 'Lords' along with some silver, and it is done."
Ned found he was tired of this, "Tamir, please, if you don't know who killed my son, just say so and be done with this."
Tamir took a deep breath, and Ned knew he was trying not to lose his temper, "Eight weeks ago we finally received confirmation that the Pentoshi guild of spices contracted one of the major 'lords.' The one that calls himself Salhar Dramar, to find Marcelino, the spice merchant, and to have his ship attacked. A month or so ago, the day that I left Braavos for the North, we learned that there was a very young Braavosi girl that was sold to a pleasure house in Lys. My brother is already in the process of bringing her back to Braavos. We believe she was Marcelino's daughter."
Ned tried to calm his breathing, "Tamir-"
"Lord Stark, I am not saying that Jon is dead or alive. All I am saying is that there may be a chance to find out who did this. Tormo has already sent word through his contacts to look for a young man matching your son's description as well as the description of my fellow soldiers. It is difficult Lord Stark, this Dramar has anywhere from ten to thirty captains under him that he'd trust with this. We still do not know which one it was."
Ned felt some pressure uncoil around his heart, trying so hard not to get his hopes up. Then Ned thought about the pirates, and his mood turned sour, "Where are these pirates from?"
"All over Lord Stark, there is no telling unless we recover that girl, and it is indeed Marcelino's kid. That's even if she is in a mind to speak."
Ned felt some bile rise in his throat, "Where are we with clearing the Stepstones."
Tamir smiled at that, "I thought you would never ask Lord Stark." Tamir then looked around, looking for something. "Do you have a map of the Stepstones anywhere? Mine is a bit small."
Ned wasn't sure and asked for Jory to send someone to Maester Luwin, then he turned back again, "Send for other Northern Representatives and make sure Robb comes as well."
When Luwin left to fulfill his task, Tamir spoke again, "Lord Stark, there is another matter you should know about as well before the others arrive."
"Go ahead, Tamir."
"The Pentoshi guild was not who we first suspected to have a role in the disappearance of The Pearl's Kiss," Tamir said in a low voice.
"What do you mean?" Ned asked.
Tamir looked conflicted but decided to press on, "Before Jon had left for Pentos, through our contacts, we learned that someone had placed a bounty on your son's head."
Ned felt his teeth begin to show, and his face started to flush with rage. "House Rykker?"
Tamir nodded in confirmation, "That is what we suspected. The Lord Rykker is not a fool, we could never prove such a thing, but we are as nearly certain as someone could be"
Ned felt his fist tighten, and his blood pump harshly through him, "They will pay," Ned said.
Tamir grinned, "I know a few men that can…" Tamir motioned a finger across his throat.
"No," Ned said, "Death is too easy, I want to break them." Tamir gave an honest smile, and Ned continued, "Inform your brother not to sell the cure to Duskendale at a standard rate for the Southern Kingdoms, triple it, quadruple it, I do not care. Make it hurt. Also, have him let slip that anyone that sells to them without marking their prices up significantly will incur the same."
"Hmm, a good start," Tamir then added, "My brother is a ruthless man and can stifle other trades to their port and make sure they are surpassed for your dingy capital."
"Good," Ned said. It's a start. Then Ned thought of something and gave a smile. Tamir must have noticed then gave him a look of confusion.
"What is it you're thinking of?"
Ned tapped the chair, "What else do you know of Duskendale?"
"Not much, though I am sure my brother knows far more."
Ned nodded, "Tell your brother to let it slip that any of the city's craftsmen that leave Duskendale, I'll pay for them to relocate North to our shipyards in the west, and make sure their wages are increased twofold to reflect their...sacrifice."
Tamir grinned, "You think they will?"
Ned shrugged, "Maybe for some, but it will cost the Rykkers one way or another. Plus, your brother is not coming through on that end."
Tamir bit his lip, looking to say something.
Ned narrowed his eyes, "What is it?"
Tamir rubbed a hand through his hair, "Between you and me, my brother has no interest in helping you build a fleet." Ned must have looked confused, so Tamir continued, "He is hoping your progress is too slow so he can have another few years added to your contract."
"That was our deal."
"And he is upholding it by working slowly, but still working. Also, Lord Stark, no offense, what Braavosi wants to move to a foreign land with foreign gods and a foreign tongue."
Ned gave an exasperated chuckle and leaned back in his chair, "So that is how it will be? You know this is why people hate merchants."
Tamir shrugged, "My brother is ruthless but effective."
"Let us hope that the plan for the Stepstones is the same," Ned said, thinking of a way to do to Tormo what was being done with him. I will find something.
A half-hour later, the solar was now occupied by Wendell Manderly, Rodrik Forrester, Eddard Karstark, Arthur Glenmore, Harmond Umber, Ser Rodrik, Robar Royce, Jory Cassel, and his son. Tamir looked at the map, it was a little small, but Ned knew it would do. Tamir began then, "In about two or three months time Volantis will send fifty-five war galleys North. They will sail southwest a way where they will break into two armadas. Part of the fleet will make their way to the Dornish coast, where they will meet with thirty or so galleys from your wine lords from the south. The first half of the Volantene fleet will break apart and attack the Western Stepstones.
"Wine-lords?" Robb asked, "Redwyne?"
Tamir nodded, "Redwyne, yes." He then returned to the map, "The Redwynes will move up and attack the pirate hideouts and coves within the Broken Isles while the rest of the Volantene will attack the hideouts on Mele Tege and The Sorrows cutting off the retreat to the southern seas the best they can. Then portions of both will attack both coasts of Grey Gallows and the Whetstone, hopefully forcing them North."
Robb spoke up again, "Where the Braavosi and the Royal fleet will be coming down to ensnare them." When it was silent, Robb's ears turned red, "Sorry, continue."
Tamir looked impressed, "Yes, that is the end result. However, we will send a smaller force of ships before then, the force I brought with me to attack the hideouts in the Northern Stepstones, this will hopefully draw pirates out of their strongholds and engage. Then the rest of the Braavosi fleet and the rest of your royal fleet will then come in and attack them en masse, cutting off escape to the Myrish Sea but especially back to Tyrosh. Then we should force our way onto the largest southern settlement on Bloodstone, Daeton, or as the current "lord" calls it Dramar's Town."
Robb spoke up again, "Where Daemon Targaryen crowned himself King of the Stepstones?"
"Huh, yes, I guess that is where the original name could come from. It is a significant town of thirty or so thousand that live in the town and on the surrounding land. It has a natural harbor, and a sturdy keep there as well. From our informant, there is a stone wall around the keep, and the proper town only has small wooden walls that are maybe ten or twelve feet high. The town has grown quite a bit in the past fifteen years as it is where a thriving black market slave trade is, for those that are selling...unique individuals or do not want to face taxes or sell slaves acquired illegally. It is also where some smugglers come to sell the wares they have purchased from pirates in various coves." Tamir made brief eye-contact with Ned and looked away.
"And the three Daughters just allow this to happen?" Wendell asked.
Tamir shook his head, "Most pirates act as their sell-sails, and the Three Daughters all have their favorites. The Stepstones have been divided by those claiming to be 'Lord's' of these islands. Currently, a man named Salhar Dramar rules the northernmost Stepstones, and Dramar's Town is his center of power. Salhar is the most prominent Lord, and he has thirty-two war galleys directly under his control and relationships to all the other pirates that are not. Dramar's Town is fast becoming a notable center in trade and has close ties to the Tyroshi and Myrmen. If we start with small raids, it will look like a disgruntled lord making a minor mess but still disrupt some of the trade supply that these 'Pirate Lords' rely on. More importantly, he will have to respond to show strength. Then we hit them as fast as we can and then close the noose around Bloodstone before the Tyroshi, or even the Myrmen come to aid them."
"Will they?" Ned asked.
Tamir shrugged, "Some of the powerful Tyroshi and Myrish nobles hate this place as it drives their trade from their ports and increases costs. Others, however, are thriving off of it as they can get goods there for a fraction of where it would cost them elsewhere."
"How is this legal? How have these men not been attacked by the Three?" Robar asked.
Tamir breathed out, "They have, but most of these Lords have been able to recruit many to his side and destroy the rest. Salhar is probably the most cunning of them, but only because he holds sway to the closest powers around him. He has no power in the Seven Kingdoms, Braavos and Volantis, and many in the Three Daughters will not push war as long as we do not try to take ownership of the islands when we are done." Tamir took out his own, small map of the islands and started using stones to indicate two to three dozen places all over the larger map. Except two of the Stepstones were empty. Tamir ignored them and said, "The smaller markers represent the coves where the pirates meet with smugglers and the larger are the settlements where smugglers trade with, well with seedy merchants. Dramar's Town being the most significant."
The Northerners all nodded their agreement, but something was bugging Ned. "How do you know the location of these hideouts?"
Tamir looked at all of them in surprise, "It came from your Master of Ships, Baratheon."
Ned shared a look of surprise with Wendell Manderly, "How would Stannis Baratheon know about hotbeds of piracy?"
Tamir shrugged and answered, "My brother says he has a knight who used to be a smuggler. This smuggler-knight has an old pirate friend he has is selling us the information in exchange for clemency and permission to build a harbor and establish safe shipping lanes on the eastern coasts of the Dancing Isle or Smallspear."
Wendell scoffed, "It will never last."
"This pirate's name?" Ned asked.
"'Lord' Salladhor Saan," Tamir said. "He has twenty-four galleys under his command, and they have passed on the information for your Master of Ships for a while now and will work to mitigate word of reaching these hotbeds before we descend on them. Also, he has warred with Salhar for control of the territory around Grey Gallows, but he has not been victorious nor will he be and the captains that serve him know it."
"So, what will this solve?" Robb asked. "If there is no one to control the islands, what will stop someone else from wreaking havoc? What is to stop this Salladhor Saan from doing the exact same thing Salhar Dramar has done?"
Tamir grinned, "This Saan is connected well in Lys but hated in Tyrosh and Myr. So he will not want to expand eastward too aggressively, and his islands would be close enough to Westeros that should he try and press his advantage or impose too heavy of a toll he will die. Still, his islands will create the opportunity for a safe trading route through the Stepstones for half a generation or more."
It was then Robb spoke up again, "I thought Braavos and Volantis hated each other? How are you working together?"
"We both apparently hate losing the opportunity to make more money, and with Volantis hearing about your cure, and my brother being the only one to sell it, we have become tentative allies. How long will that last? I do not know, so we are capitalizing on it as much as we can. Plus, the Tiger Triarch, Maegyr, has wanted a war to fight in for a long time, and my brother assures me that the other two Elephants will allow this to him to satiate his bloodlust."
Ned cared even less about Volanteen politics than he did Braavosi, so he took a deep breath and surveyed the map, "So this Saan doesn't want Bloodstone when it is wrenched away from Dramar?"
Tamir winced, "No, he wants it raised to the ground to decrease his competition and the spoils of the island given to him." Tamir looked at them all, "Including the slaves. Which no one knows the exact number. So with Dramar's Town being so far North, we need to get there first before the Volantene and Salladhor do or else all those there will be resold in Volantis and elsewhere."
"Will we allow that?" Robb asked, looking around the room.
"No," Ned said.
"The Sealord agrees." Tamir said, "Unfortunately, we had to agree that the spoils found will be claimed by the one that took them."
"If they take the island together?" Robb asked.
Tamir blew out a long breath, "We will cross that canal if we have to."
Robb still looked uncertain, while the rest of the Northmen stared at the map. Ned finally spoke, "Aye, and let it not be said the North did not aid in this fight. Wendell, I am putting you in charge of our forces. When you arrive back at White Harbor, leave with five of our own galleys and travel with the seven that Tamir has brought with him to the meeting at Dragonstone. Stop off at Gulltown though, I need you to speak to your good-father."
"Of course, my lord," Wendell didn't look convinced though, "However, I do not know if we'll have enough men and I am not sure the lords will want to bear the brunt of this cost."
"I will send word to the other houses that House Stark will pay the wages for men sent. Also, Jory, find a hundred of our men and have them ready to leave in two days. Your uncle will lead them. I need at least fifty to a hundred from Cerwyn and the same from Benyen. I'll send word to Lords Cerwyn and Benyen for any men they can muster on short notice." Wendell looked at him in surprise, as did Eddard, Rodrik, and Tamir. "Wendell, send a letter to your father and have him send as many barges as you can up the White Knife and I'll send word to Benyen to send any sloops from Greydam to expedite this process." Ned turned to Tamir, "Is there anything else?"
"No, Lord Stark."
"Lord Stark," Harmond interrupted, "I'd like to travel with Lord Manderly."
"I do as well," Eddard Karstark piped in.
"I want to go too, Lord Stark," Robar Royce piped in.
The other's all wanted to fight, and Ned felt a little overwhelmed, so he silenced the room. "Those of you that are of age may fight as you feel, but write to your fathers and tell them I am not ordering this. Also, if they have any volunteers, they need to be in White Harbor as soon as possible."
"Yes, my Lord," They all echoed.
"Good, you are all dismissed." They all filled out, but Robb stayed behind, looking as if he wanted to say something. "No, Robb."
"What?" He asked in surprise.
Ned gave out a sigh, "You are not joining them."
Robb's face became a bit petulant, "Why not? I am nearing one and five, I am nearly a man grown."
"This will be a real battle, Robb, even worse there will be battles at sea, I will not risk you, not for this," Ned stated, trying to end the argument.
"Aye, I am not expendable, but Jon is."
Ned stopped what he was doing and looked Robb straight in the eye. However, Robb would not be cowed and stared with steady defiance. "What did you say?" Ned said, anger seeping into his voice.
This cracked Robb's resolve a bit and the defiance slowly started to slip from his son's face, "Father I-"
Ned put up a hand, silencing him and sat there, quelling the anger. He couldn't, so Ned then struck the desk with his fist with enough force that the inkpot titled back and forth. Robb flinched backward. Ned waited until he felt he could speak without shouting. It took longer than he was proud of, but when he spoke again, his voice was even. "It is exactly because of…" Ned fought the sudden emotion and forced himself to continue, "your brother that you are not going, I cannot lose another son."
Robb stood there uncomfortably before speaking, "I, I need to be seen leading the North, father. How will men ever respect me if I do not fight alongside them?"
Ned sighed, "You are too young, if you were a few years older I would consider it, but not yet." Then Ned thought of something, "However, there is something I need you to do." Robb brightened, and Ned continued, "We have thirty or so men that will be heading to the mouth of Torrhen's River to where the shipyards will be. I need them escorted there."
Robb's excitement withered quickly, "You want me to guard workers?"
Gods, he's still so young. Ned cleared his throat, "No, not just that, I need you to go to Torrhen's square, speak with the Tallharts and oversee how the transportation of lumber is going and assess what is needed. Then make your way down Torrhen's River to the village where the shipyards themselves are being built, look into the progress of the construction of the dry docks, make a report and return. Also, the closest highborn to the land is Ser Desmond Sift. He is a landed knight that was given that piece of land through a favor from Lady Dustin. He is also under the impression that the shipyards will be his. He apparently is causing trouble with the few men that have arrived there, stalling the progress. Tell him, in person, that if he interferes at all with the shipyards again, I will strip him of his land and send him to the Wall."
Robb swallowed hard at that, "You just want me to ride around the North and see how everything is coming along and admonish a knight? And father, do you have the authority to do something like that?"
"Robb, that is what the Warden of the North is supposed to do. Visit his people, make them feel heard, ensure that our goals are being met and that the North knows that a Stark is there to help them reach their own. I know this doesn't seem like much, but it needs to be done, and I am entrusting you to do this without me." Robb gulped a little at that. "And yes, I do have that authority, and lucky for us, he is not well-liked."
"Yes, father."
"Good, go, and prepare. Speak with Ser Rodrik, he will assign you, forty men. Take Rodrik Forrester and Arthur Glenmore with you. Arthur knows the land better than you do." Ned thought for a moment then added, "We may need to delay a couple more weeks before you leave, though, but I leave it to you to make the necessary preparations."
"Of course, father." Robb fidgeted a bit, "Father?"
"Yes, Robb?"
"I need to take Theon with me," Robb said.
Ned rubbed his temple, "Are you sure that is wise? The Greyjoys are still reviled by many."
"Aye, but you said our friendship could ensure peace, and I haven't been too close with him since..." Robb trailed off, and Ned nodded.
"I leave the decision to you," Ned said.
"Father?"
"Yes, Robb."
"You said Ser Sift wasn't going to get the new shipyards, who was?"
Ned looked at Robb and swallowed hard. He didn't say anything, and Robb seemed to understand. Eventually, Ned spoke again, "I will either go to Bran or Rickon now."
Robb's eyes filled a little with tears, and he gave a sad smile.
"Robb?"
"Yes, father?"
"We haven't had a chance to speak about…" Ned cursed himself for bringing this up, "You and Wylla Manderly." Robb's face burned bright red and neither dared to speak on this in the long weeks since, but he needed to. "I...I am glad you two are friendly. Truly, but I can not impress how improper that could seem if someone else besides myself found you two."
Robb looked down, his blush deepening.
Ned jumped in again, "Still, I am glad someone was able to comfort you. Are you in contact still?"
Robb was still too embarrassed to look at his father, "No. We haven't spoken since she left."
Ned was now starting to feel incredibly awkward as well, "Well, okay." The silence stretched on unbearably long, and Ned simply said, "maybe you should. I'll see you later."
Robb said his own uncomfortable goodbye and left in a hurry, and Ned rubbed his temples. That could have been done better. Still, he was glad the two were becoming friendly, as Ned was hopeful that the betrothal announcement that was a handful of months away, would be less awkward for them. Maybe my son will have a happier start to his marriage than I had.
Ned settled down to start writing correspondence to Galbert when Benjen barged in, looking ready to fight again.
"What in the hells do you think you are doing?" Benjen roared.
"Ben-"
"Those men are meant for the Wall, and you just take them for yourself?"
Ned started to get a little angry as well, "For me? They aren't sworn brothers yet, they are free to choose, and I have work that needs to be done."
"But the Wall needs them!"
Ned put up his hands, placating his brother, "I will send more supplies and even some gold in a few months time as recompense."
"Supplies? Gold? Gold cannot sit on a horse. Gold cannot pull a bow, or swing a sword or hit a nail. The Wall needs men, Lord Stark."
"So does the North, Benjen!" Ned responded, "The North needs more men than we can spare. A stronger North means a stronger Night's Watch, do you think the South gives a damn about the Wall? The North has sent more supplies and men North than all other Kingdoms combined. No, the North needs those men elsewhere for now. If you are so desperate, find better men to send south to recruit."
Benjen looked at him, fuming with barely restrained rage.
Ned felt his own rising and decided to end it, "If that will be all First Ranger, you are dismissed." Benjen snarled and left the solar with a slam of the door.
Ned sunk into this chair, too many things were moving, too many things out of his control. He felt he was starting to let things slip through his fingers. Ned got up and went to the godswood, the one steady place. The one area in Winterfell that didn't change.