The next several days tested the mettle of all gathered, the Greatjon had gathered some fresh cavalry and rode down whatever Freys remained gathered near. Of the 8,000 Freys to have fought, only 1,000 remained by their estimates. Jon had killed another one hundred, and the rest scattered to the wind.
Another day passed and ravens from Darry held dark words. A sea of Lannisters and Reachmen had taken the castle and put every man to the sword. Luckily, the expected men from House Moore, Marnen, and Pryor arrived with 7,000 men. With his losses at 1,358, he now had over 11,000 men at his command.
They lost around 7,000 in total, it was a critical blow to their forces. Yes they may have had reinforcements but 7,000 was bad for any army.
Except the army of Reachmen and Lannisters who had an estimated 130,000. Who knows how many more could be levied. They had no idea how many marched towards them, but they would have to group with the other 30,000 Rivermen and Northmen down south near Riverrun. They had lost many over the war, and it was starting to wear on them. Luckily supply lines have held strongly with the recent addition of his supplies through the Saltpans. Which would have to be reinforced.
Robb still has yet to wake from his fever, and the Greatjon has yet to come back.
Almost all of the gathered lords were wounded in some way, and stuck to themselves, and all the bullshit fell onto him.
Fucking horseshit, Even Catelyn is looking towards me for everything.
"Lord Stilwood?"
Speaking of the woman
"Lady Stark, is all well?" He tried to feign a smile.
"Yes! Robb has awoken, and is asking for you." Though she has aged in the short time since the start of the war, this woman could still bring most men to their knees with her smile alone.
Criston nodded, and made his way towards Robb's tent, where a dozen men were posted around. Every person was staring at him intently, their eyes never leaving him as he kept walking. He lifted the tent's flap to the side and entered to Jeyne Westerling tenderly replacing Robb's bandages.
"Your Grace, you wished to see me." Robb nodded and winced as he propped himself up further.
"I have to admit, I would never want to face you in battle." He sipped from a skin of water. "When I heard you charged those weasel bastards, I was not surprised." His face grew softer, "You took a sword through your arm for me, and commanded my armies in my stead. If you were not Jon's heir already, I would give you this crown and take a ship to Essos."
"Robb! Don't say such things!" Jeyne chided him, while she looked towards Criston with a careful eye.
Robb chuckled softly, "Perhaps your right, I can't abandon the North. I've already lost it to sniveling little fucking squids!" Ah, the wolfsblood was back. He let loose a rasping cough and went to lay back down.
"Is now the time where I can scold you for being a bloody fool, Robb?" Robb seemed to be surprised for a moment, but did not respond.
"I would prefer if you didn't my lord." Jeyne said beside him.
"Frankly, Jeyne Westerling, not a single person in this tent has asked you to speak on matters you do not know. You are an enemy to me and mine, the Westerlings are a poor houses, and an enemy of the North."
"Criston! You will not speak to her like that!" Robb hissed angrily.
"You will be silent!" Criston roared at him, the very image of a grizzly bear. "Since you have not been told that one time since you called your banners! You will be fucking silent, and listen!"
Robb did not back down, but he did not speak.
"You have never once thought it odd that an enemy's daughter was there to comfort you, every step of the way? Has nobody brought this up to you?" Criston took a deep breath, " You need to start thinking through everything, your father taught you well but honor is not everything in this world!"
"You have made your point, my Lord. Please." Robb begged him.
"I was only a boy when I played at war, much like you. My father did not know I was even there! He saw me gut an ironborn boy and it distracted him. Instead of running as the tower fell atop of him, he saw his youngest son. In his final moments he wondered why a boy of two and ten was at war." Criston took a sip of ale, "This wedding has proved that we have enemies everywhere! This is not a time for boys playing at war, This is a Time for Wolves!"
Robb's eyes were wide, "Jeyne, find out the loyalties of your family. I know you have your suspicions also, go now." Jeyne nodded shakily and ran from the tent.
"She is a dutiful wife, you have to have her on your side. She is your Queen now."
"Queen… It is odd saying that aloud. Married, King, Commander. It's scary how much has changed so quickly. My head spins from it." Robb made to stand, and found shaky success.
Criston took a step forward, to catch him if he falls, "I am the King of the North, and the Trident, but you Lord Stilwood. You will be the King of the Ebony Isles, and Pebble. You have proven loyalty beyond reason, honor above most, and bravery to save my life. It must always be rewarded. You will be independent, but you will me under a protectorate, as long as you hold faith with House Stark, I will kill your enemies should they invade, and lift you up if your granaries are empty. In return you will come to the North's defense against any and all enemies"
"Robb, you can't give me independence, I am a lord under you and the North. It will set a dangerous precedent!"
"You will be King because I command it of you, it took marriage to bring your family into the North, I am again resurrecting the title of Black King of Ebony Isle. Serve your people well, and the North."
"Robb, I don't know what more to say to you"
"You will rule by my side, and we will fight these battles together. You will hold my coast in peacetime, and have my ear in war. As your family always has done." Criston dropped to a knee.
I'm not worthy of the honor, Your Grace.
Kings can die easily, and they never live as long as a normal man.
The Black King of Ebony Isle, the first and of the last
"I will protect your coast in peacetime, and destroy your enemies in war. I swear it."
Of the First, and the Last.