Robb never would know how his father ever did what he did. How he was able to keep so many happy with him, keep them loving him, at the same time. Every day someone knew was coming to him with a problem. One day Maester Luwin would put a raven scroll in front of him from Lord Ryswell who was disputing fishing rights along the stony shore with Lord Tallhart, on the next, a merchant was in front of him asking him to intervene in Winter's Town, claiming that another merchant was stealing from him and selling his wares, vassal masterly houses were asking that he adjudicate on their land. A masterly house was the equivalent of a southern landed knight, they had to appeal to their overlord to administer justice.

Then there were the marriage offers, which were the most taxing of all. He was old enough now to be wed, he knew that well enough, and so did his father's bannermen. Manderly and Umber in particular were pressing for such an offer to be made. None were saying it out loud, but eventually they would, then what was Robb to do? He didn't want to make a decision without his father's input, but to reject them out of hand would breed bad blood between him and his future bannermen. Maester Luwin had said he would help him manage it when the time came. Tristan just laughed.

"Another one, Lord Robb," Maester Luwin said and Robb nodded, indicating for the guards to bring in the next petitioner.

A man in a leather doublet and with a sword at his hip entered, flanked by two sworn men. Robb remembered him, he was Gawen Pyne, a masterly house, with a stout keep not four hours hard riding from Winterfell. "Lord Robb," he said bowing at the waist.

"Master Gawen," he replied, smiling and bowing his head. The master observed Grey Wind, currently sitting at his feet. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Bad tidings, I am afraid, my lord," he said, sounding distasteful at what he had to say. "My holdfast is suffering from cracks and my maester informs me that the cost will only spiral out of control if we let the walls deteriorate any further." Robb nodded. A crack in the wall is an open defence, both wind and foe can enter there. That was what his father told him. "Unfortunately, I am not aware of any masons of specific quality that would be able to mend them. I would ask your aid in identifying any that would be able to help me?"

Robb nodded and sat back, stroking his chin. Maester Luwin leant in. "There are three such masons currently staying at Winterfell, unfortunately, I cannot vet their quality, most of the good ones have been sent south, to Moat Cailin, by your lord father."

He thought it over, he did not want to give bad advice to a bannerman of his. "My maester informs me that there are three such individuals in Winter's Town right now, Master Gawen," he told his bannerman. "Unfortunately, we are unable to vet their quality, my lord father has sent most masons to the rebuilding of Moat Cailin. I will have one of my men fetch them and you can discuss purchasing their services with them. Is that agreeable?"

The Master smiled. "Quite agreeable, thank you, my lord."

Robb nodded and looked to the nearby men of Winterfell. "Tomard," he called out, spotting a grizzled guard.

"My lord," he answered, standing to attention and clutching his spear tightly. "Ready a horse and head to Winter's Town, collect the stone masons and bring them here."

"At once, my lord," he said, turning, and marching neatly from the room.

Robb turned back to master Gawen. "Until then, my lord, please make yourself welcome in my hall."

"Much appreciated, my lord," he said, turning with his men and leaving Robb alone with Luwin and the guards in the great hall.

"I am done for the day," he said, his head hurt and he needed some air.

Luwin nodded. "Of course, my lord. I shall return to my turret." He bowed and departed. Robb decided to go outside and see what his brothers were doing, patting his leg to get Grey Wind to join him as he headed outside.

The clatter of wood on wood was an easy sound to follow. In the courtyard he found Bran sitting on a chair, his now useless legs hanging beneath him. But he looked happier since he was surrounded by wolves: Shield, Nymeria, Lady, Summer and Shaggydog were all curled around him, all of them watching the two that were training in the dirt, closely watched by Cregan, Ser Rodrik's subordinate. Even Tristan trained with help, as Ser Rodrik had always told them, train with another who knows what they are doing at all times, otherwise you always embed your errors.

Rickon had his wooden sword held above his head and cut at Tristan who sidestepped easily and gently tapped Rickon's behind with the flat of his own wooden blade.

"A good cut little one," Cregan said, smiling encouragingly at Rickon.

Tristan snorted. "Maybe," he said grinning, "if you're looking to kill a chicken."

Rickon scowled and charged at Tristan who met the crude attack Rickon gave him and held him back easily, the wooden blades locking together. Tristan laughed as his arm didn't even begin to shake with the effort of holding back the boy. "Come on... Rickon the Chicken Killer, show me what you have." Rickon held on more fiercely with two hands and began to push harder and faster against Tristan's sword. Deftly as you like, Tristan slid his wooden sword up and over the top of Rickon's, sending their youngest brother flying forwards and landing face first in the dirt.

"Remember your basics, Lord Rickon," Cregan chastised, as Tristan tossed his training sword in the air, catching it on his foot with little to no effort. With a flick he sent the sword spinning and caught it deftly, spinning it in his grip until he was holding it properly.

"Do you have nothing better to do than learn tricks with that thing?" Robb asked as he approached the pair, Rickon dusting the earth from his training clothes.

"No," Tristan replied. "There aren't any women around."

"I should probably keep up with the rebuilding of Moat Cailin," Robb mused. "I could send you down there to see how it's going if you are bored."

Tristan pointed his wooden sword at Robb warningly. "Careful, brother, I am not a raven."

"Maybe not, but the lesser twin should follow the better one, wouldn't you say?" He teased.

Tristan, playing along for the sake of the younger ones, glowered. "In what ways are you better than me, dear twin of mine?"

"Leading," Robb began, ticking off with one finger for each quality he named. "Hunting, riding, listening, I am more patient and I'm better looking."

"Careful, you're asking for a punch in your pretty face, Robb." Tristan advanced on him and Robb glanced quickly at Rickon widening his eyes.

Tristan grinned. "Keep your eye on your opponent Robb," Tristan said. "Rodrik always said that, didn't he Cregan."

"He did," Cregan confirmed, smiling. "But he also taught you to keep an eye on your surroundings."

"Wha-" thwack! Tristan turned to look at Rickon who was grinning up at him having just hit him on the arse. "You little-" Robb charged forward and tackled Tristan around the waist, sending them both to the floor, making their wolves run circles around them, and making Rickon and Bran, who was sitting to the side, laugh. Cregan chuckled before pulling them apart.

"Did I miss the fun?" They looked over to see Theon approaching them, grinning. "What are the wolves doing now?"

Robb pushed himself back to his feet, laughing as Tristan struggled to do the same. "They were fighting," Rickon said helpfully.

"I see," Theon replied, nodding. "I checked up on our wildling Robb," Theon said. The wildling, Osha, they had captured during a ride in the Wolfswood. Tristan had not been there. He had only come back to Winterfell the day after. By all accounts he had been riding with Cley around the Barrows, not feeling any particular urgency to come back. Then, as he made his way up the Kingsroad, he had met Tyrion Lannister, and been unable to slip away without recanting the tale of why he was not with the royal convoy. All this had delayed his return, and he of course had to see Cley back to Castle Cerwyn before riding with the wolves back to Winterfell.

Robb nodded to Theon. "And?"

"She"s taken to her new role well." Robb was glad. He was uncertain that a Wildling would be able to serve ably. But perhaps she would have tales for father, would be able to tell him of King Beyond the Wall Mance Rayder. Father had spoken about possibly riding north to break their power and to aid the Night"s Watch.

"Very well," he said, brushing off his clothes. "We'll keep an eye on her for now."

"Lord Robb!" Robb turned, Maester Luwin looked most distressed as he approached. "I must speak with you, now."

"What is it?" Robb asked.

Luwin shook his head, glancing to Rickon and Bran. Robb understood. "Cregan, keep up Rickon's training, Tristan, Theon, with me."

Tristan rose to his feet and patted his thigh, Shield and Nymeria, who had taken to following Shield around, bounded over to him, Grey Wind came without Robb calling him.

They ascended the Maester's Turret to the top, where Maester Luwin had a scroll opened on his table. "What is it?" He asked. Luwin simply held out the scroll and Robb took it, scanning over the words on it.

"Treason?" He asked, looking up at Luwin. "Treason? Father committed treason?" He looked back at the scroll. "And Sansa wrote this?" It was not possible. Father rode alongside Robert Baratheon to end the Targaryen Dynasty after their crimes. What treason could he possibly conceive against his best friend?

"What!" Tristan seized the message and read it for himself.

At the same time, Luwin gave his council. "I would be hesitant about the authorship of this letter, my lord," he advised. "This is your sister's hand, for certain, but I suspect that these are not her words. They reek of the Queen to me, and we have no idea how many swords were at your sister's throat as she wrote this letter."

"This is dog shit!" Tristan declared, passing the letter to Theon. "Joffrey always hated us, now he is king, he puts our father in chains!"

"You certainly gave him no reason to love us," Robb commented.

"This is beside the point," Luwin said, breaking them apart before Tristan could growl a response. "The pair of you are summoned to King's Landing to swear your fealty to the new king, and to swear that you had no part in Lord Eddard's treason."

"There was no treason!" Tristan spat. "Joffrey just wants me to put my tongue to his boot."

"Your brother as well," Theon added.

Luwin seemed to remain the only calm one in the room. "Tongues to boots or not," he said, trying to ease the tension in the room. "You are commanded to go to the capital, if you refuse you will both be charged with the same crimes as Lord Eddard."

Tristan laughed. "Oh I will go to King's Landing," he declared. "And I will make Joffrey regret that he ever summoned me there. He wants my tongue to his arse; I'll put my sword there instead."

"That would mean war," Luwin cautioned. "Alone you would be dragged down and executed."

"He won't be going alone," Robb said. He would not stand by and let his father's name be slandered by the new boy king. He would free his father. His father would not join his uncle and grandfather in the list of unjustly executed Starks in that city. "We won"t be going alone," he added. Then he turned to Maester Luwin. "Call the banners."

Luwin's breath hitched, but he recovered himself quickly and did not question his orders. "All of them my lord?"

Robb nodded. "They have all sworn to defend father. I would see what their words are worth."