Chapter 10 That was an Order
His dream was queer and cold, chilling to the bone.
He was under Winterfell in the crypts, dissolving into infinite darkness on either side, a thousand dead kings looking at him with stone eyes. The only light was a flickering torch. 'Braaandon,' a voice was calling him, 'Brandon… here.' Bran looked around, seeing nothing but darkness.
He turned and saw Robb. 'Robb,' Bran asked, 'where are we?'
Robb did not answer. Bran looked closely and saw Robb was dead, a long arrow drove into his chest. Bran looked around with fear. 'Fly or die,' he heard a hoarse voice scream, 'fly, fly, fly.' A golden man pushed him off a tower, 'the things I do for love,' he said.
He saw the heads of dead wolves mounted on spikes. He saw dragons flying under the sunrise, long winged shadows flew across the earth. He saw an iron rose blooming in Winterfell, thorns gleaming steely light. Boom, boom, boom, a wardrum went.
Brandon Stark screamed, and woke. He wasn't falling, neither was he in the crypts. He was in his bed drenched with sweat. It was but a dream.
But the booming sound was not. He could hear the sounds outside, from the south, sounds of stone and wood collapsing. What was happening? Did the Lannisters come so soon?'
'Hodor?' The giant man came. 'Hodor, dress me.' Hodor lifted Bran up and garbed him in thick furs, with gentle yet strong hands. 'Bring me to Robb. Do you know what those sounds are?'
'Hodor hodor hodor,' said Hodor. He lifted Bran up as if he was no heavier than a doll and began descending the stairs, Bran gently rocking in his hands.
'Hodor,' Bran agreed. The stableboy smiled. He liked it when people said his name.
Outside the largest snow Bran had ever saw in his short life was raging. Only a few steps outside of the tower he resided within it was out of sight, lost in a sea of snow. 'Be careful, My Prince,' a voice of which he could not see the speaker said, 'the enemy's throwing stones into the city.'
Thankfully they were not attacked by stones. The booming noises lasted all the time but sounded fairly far. Bran and Hodor were in the middle of Winterfell but could not see Winterfell. The snow was deep to Hodor's knees, for a man of average height it would be up to his thighs. Both Bran and Hodor were covered with white flakes when they stumbled into Winterfell's Great Keep. A band of men were already there, dripping wet with melted snow. Obviously they had just came in from outside as well. Bran noticed Greatjon Umber among their midst, a giant of a man taller than Hodor. They seemed to have just came in same as them. Robb was asking them something.
'Why is Winterfell under catapult bombardment?' Robb asked them.
'Winterfell is under catapult bombardment?' asked Jon Umber.
'Are you deaf, My Lord? Cannot you hear the sounds of them?'
'I thought the snow was playing tricks on my ears, Your Grace.'
'Well those are catapults, and the Southern Gate of Winterfell is almost in ruins. This storm makes it impossible for us to send out men so we cannot attack the attackers. A raiding party must have took the high ground around the castle and built long-range catapults there.'
'No, there are no raiding parties on the southern rills.' One of the Greatjon's men entered to great hall and whispered in Lord Umber's ear. The Greatjon frowned. 'Your Grace, my uncle Whoresbane has just scouted the Southern gate. He says that is no raiding party, but the vanguard troops of Lord Randyll Tarly, and there are no long-range catapults, only average ones.'
'You are telling me, that the vanguard of the Lannisters has already breached through our defenses on the Kingsroad, and is within bombarding range of Winterfell? And I only just knew?' Robb asked Lord Umber incredulously. 'I should have hanged you lot when I had the chance!'
'Your Grace, I had no way of knowing that…'
'The Lannisters are just outside my gates and you had no way of knowing? And no one told me, I had to ask you myself! Absolutely unacceptable!' Robb was furious.
Robb stormed away sullen, Grey Wind at his heels, his mother Catelyn following after. Bran felt sick. The Lannisters were close to Winterfell now, and Robb had no means to stop him.
Every time he ate with Robb, Robb would always tell him cheerfully, though his cheerfulness was somewhat strained, that the whole situation was in control and the Lannisters would lose the war. Robb sounded so confident Bran believed him, but now even Robb seemed to be out of control of the situation. Bran hoped he could be as brave as Robb was.
The bombarding lasted well into that day. Around midday Robb called a war conference. Bran went to look and saw Sansa. 'Is that Stark catapults attacking outside, Bran?' Sansa asked him.
'I don't think so.' Bran told Sansa what he heard Lord Umber say in the Great Hall.
'But how could Lord Tarly reach Winterfell so fast? I thought Robb said that Lord Wyman would be launching an attack with his Manderly cavalry? Robb told me this attack would change the outcome of the whole war.' Sansa looked especially beautiful today with flushed cheeks and bright blue eyes from the cold.
'Everyone close to King Robb knows that's nothing but a fantasy, My Princess.' Lord Rickard Karstark, a big fierce man squeezed by the lines of men and overheard their conversation. 'Even if Manderly could reach Tarly the attack wouldn't change much.'
'But why would Robb lie to us?' asked Sansa.
'What does he have to lose,' grunted Lord Karstark, before entering the conference chamber.
Bran peered into the chambers. A large map was spread on the table, a detailed one of the North, the Blackfish, his mother, Uncle Edmure, Lord Karstark, Lord Umber, Lord Flint, Lord Mallister and the Sers Walder and Walder Frey, and several other Lords Bran could not quite recognize. Sansa would know them, he thought, but Bran paid little attention to Maester Luwin's lessons about houses. Lord Mallister was pointing at the map, moving around units.
'The situation is not favorable. In the east, the Lannisters have breached the Manderly defense line, in south Lord Tarly's main force has reached the Winter Town, a mere five miles from Winterfell, and Lord Glover reports seeing Lannister raiding parties as far west as Deepwood Motte. In the South Torrhen's Square has fallen after a fortnight of siege,' Mallister said.
'I believe, when Manderly begins his assault the situation will be under control again,' Robb said.
'Your Grace… Manderly… Manderly…' obviously Lord Mallister was scared.
'Manderly's main host was set upon by the Kingslayer and destroyed. Lord Wyman claims he does not have enough men left to attack. He has failed to carry out the assault,' the Blackfish said.
Bran expected Robb to rage and curse. But Robb did not, he just stared at the map dully. 'Manderly has failed to carry out the assault,' he murmured. His eyes were dead. That frightened Bran. The last spark of fight had ran out of Robb, it seemed. He was defeated.
Robb slowly, ever so slowly removed his crown, his head drooped. After a long silence Robb finally spoke. 'Nuncle, Great-nuncle, Mallister, Karstark, Umber, you five will stay in the room.' The rest of the Lords poured out eagerly. Bran noticed his mother stayed as well, though she was not named.
Once the lords were out, Robb suddenly raised his head, the ball of anger condensed in his chest rose to his head, two gusts of fire raging in his eyes, his face red as his hair. His features twisted, as if a maddened Direwolf. It was frightening to see Robb's kind face twist in fury, it was like when your favorite little dog bared its fangs and attacked.
'That was an order!' Robb raged, shrieking, his voice inflaming the air, sweat steaming from his hair. 'Manderly's attack was an order! Who does he think he is, to defy an order that I give? So it has come to this situation… Everyone has been lying to me, even you lot, my sworn bannermen! You Lords are nothing but a bunch of incompetent COWARDS!' Robb's face went from an angry red to a pale green, white foam on his lips. All the rage Robb condensed in the war exploded.
'Your Grace, I fear I cannot allow you to insult our soldiers,' said the Blackfish.
'They are COWARDS, TRAITORS AND FALIURES!' Robb roared, his pupils shrinking horribly.
'Your Grace, this is unacceptable!' The Blackfish replied.
'You Lords are the disgrace of my Realm. Not a shred of honor!' Robb Stark grabbed a wine cup from the table and flung it full in the Blackfish's face, droplets of red wine exploding everywhere. The Blackfish stood with a quietly dignity, looking at Robb silently. For an instant Robb looked scared for what he did.
That fear vanished a second later and the anger exploded again like wildfire. 'For too long, you lot have defied my orders! You have put every possible obstacle in our path to victory! Your all claim to be fierce fighters, years of training as squires and knights only taught you how to shoe a horse! What I should have done… was to hang all of you lot when I had the chance, like JOFFREY!' Robb shrieked with a fierce hand gesture.
Slowly the anger and strength and defiance drained out of Robb Stark. He sat down slowly, supporting himself with the table, as if his rage had drained the strength out of him. Something flickered and died in those blue eyes. Bran could see it. Robb was defeated.
'I was but a boy when I ascended the throne,' murmured Robb. 'I hadn't complete my training, I was a green boy, only wanting to avenge my father, yet I made the Lannisters tremble. These traitors… from the very start, I have been deceived and betrayed! They have just committed a huge treason against the realm… But they will pay, Manderly and Bolton will pay, with their own blood they will pay, they will drown in their own blood!'
Sansa was crying. Bran wanted to comfort her but he would only be clumsy.
'All my orders have been ignored… how can I possibly rule in this situation? It is over now, the war is lost.' Robb sighed, his head drooped low. Many lords exchanged glances. 'But if you think I will flee, you are wrong, I would far rather drive a sword into my heart than leave Winterfell. Do whatever you want, it is all over now.' Robb sighed again, much heavier.
After some silence, Robb began to cry.