298 AC

Robb Stark

"As per your orders, I have been able to recruit a hundred more green boys. I'll have them trained as soon as possible, though I will not rush it."

"Very good Ser Rodrik. I agree, I do not wish to threaten the effectiveness of the Winterfell Guard. Besides, there are no great threats at the moment to rush training regardless."

"My thoughts exactly. Have you any other orders?"

Robb perked up at this. "Yes, actually. My brother Edwyle deserves to see his new seat of Moat Cailin sooner rather than later. Prepare a party for him, I think he'll be leaving sometime within the sennight."

"Of course. Lord Robb, forgive me but…I was unaware if your father began investing in the Moat's reconstruction."

"Nay, unfortunately he was unable to get to that particular order of business 'fore he left. Regardless, I am the acting Lord of Winterfell. I'll have Vayon prepare a cache of two hundred silver stags, to accompany Edwyle. I'll also write to Lord Manderly requesting a master builder to be sent from White Harbor."

"Very well, my lord. Is there anything else?"

"No, you're dismissed."

Standing from the chair, Ser Rodrik bowed and then turned and left, leaving Robb alone in his-my father's- solar. He still felt uncomfortable by it. He found himself questioning every decision he made. Would father have done this? Would father have done it differently? Would he step in to moderate between two bickering lords? He was not alone however; thank the gods for that. He and Dacey grew very close, closer than they already were, after the birth of their son.

Dacey finally went so far as to threaten harm to maester Luwin if he confined her to a bed one more day. Already, she was working herself in Winterfell's tiltyard. She was still not close to her previous skill, after being barred for the last three months or so. But her feet and arms remembered their former moves.

But enough about his own shortcomings. He had work to do. Going into one of father's drawers, he pulled out two fresh sheets of parchment and put it on the desk. The desk was well over a hundred years old. Made from ironwood, stained and polished with bee's wax. It had apparently replaced an older ironwood table that had been in use for centuries, even before the arrival of Aegon I, when the Starks still ruled as the Kings of Winter.

Setting the parchment down, he moved the quill and inkwell to a more comfortable position to the upper, right-hand side of the desk. Easier for him to dip and reapply ink to his quill if needed. Before he began writing, he put some wax pellets into the crucible and lit the small candle 'neath it to begin melting. Hopefully by the time he was finished, the was ready to be sealed.


Lord Wyman Manderly

Lord of White Harbor and Warden of the White Knife

Lord Manderly, I trust you are aware that my Lord father recently named my brother, Edwyle Stark, as the Lord of Moat Cailin and the Defender of the Causeway. His seat, however, is in ruins. It would lighten my heart if you would join with House Stark in rebuilding of the once-great, ancient fortress. I am sure that with your assistance, my brother can find capable men and women from White Harbor to join his household.

As such, I humbly request that you find a capable master builder within White Harbor. Once done, please send them to the ruins of Moat Cailin. I welcome any knights or servants or family you wish to send as well. Worry not, House Stark shall take on the full commission of whatever builder you find. In addition, worry not about large expenses; the rebuilding of Moat Cailin shall take time. The Wall was not built in a day after all.

It would be remiss of me to unknowingly cause you confusion. Edwyle shall not take up immediate residency at Moat Cailin yet. Until he is of age, the Moat is in shape to house a permanent household, or until my father's decree, Edwyle shall remain at Winterfell.

I thank you for any assistance you may provide.

Winter is Coming

Lord Robb Stark

Acting Lord of Winterfell and acting Lord Paramount & Warden of the North


To the Lords of the North

It is with great happiness that I am able to inform you of the birth of my first child and son, Samsyn Stark. Samsyn was born a healthy babe and is strong and as fearsome as any Son of Winter.

I can also report that Lady Dacey Stark faced the birthing bed as a true northerner; strength, courage, and conviction in her heart. She has made a full recovery and is as healthy as she ever was.

Although it is customary to send gifts as a congratulatory respect, I humbly beseech thee to hold off on such an act. Instead, I request, that any gift that is made, is made of either coin, men, or supplies, and to be sent to the ruins of Moat Cailin, where the ancient fortress is to be rebuilt over the next many, many years.

Only send what you can; Winter is Coming

Lord Robb Stark

Acting Lord of Winterfell and acting Lord Paramount & Warden of the North


He had put aside his first letter to finish the second. Switching them, he once again held the first letter in his hands. Reaching over to a small bucket 'neath the desk, he grabbed a small handful of sawdust and sprinkled it over the still wet ink. Allowing it some moments to soak up all the excess ink, he held the parchment vertically and allowed the sawdust to fall off into a second bucket. He did the same with the second letter.

"Guard!" He looked up as one of the two guards outside the solar stepped in.

"Mi, lord?"

"Ah, Cayn. Fetch me maester Luwin please."

Bowing, Cayn went off to fetch the maester. In the meantime, Robb folded the first letter to Lord Manderly specifically, into a respectably small size. Holding down the creased edges, he grabbed the small handle of the wax crucible, and poured a small amount onto the center of the folds. Still holding the folded paper down, he twisted his signet ring to center, and press down hard on the cooling wax, leaving an imprint of a direwolf. A knock came from the door.

"Come!"

Cayn walked in with Luwin behind him. "Maester Luwin as requested, mi lord."

"Thank you Cayn, you're dismissed." Cayn once again bowed and left, closing the door behind him.

"My lord, you wished to see me?"

"Yes Luwin, thank you for coming. Two things I need done; first, this is a letter that must be sent directly to Lord Manderly of White Harbor." He picked up the sealed letter and gave it to him.

"Very good, my lord. I shall see that the raven flies quickly."

"Good. The other issue I need assistance with is copying. This-" He held up the other letter addressed to all the lords. "-is a letter announcing the birth of my son to the lords of the North. Please see to it that a copy is made for every lord."

"I shall see it done Lord Robb, though I must warn you. Copying so many letters will take time."

"I am aware. I will let Vayon know, and you may conscript any servant who knows there letters to assist in your duties."

"Thank you, my lord. After the copies are made, shall I return them to you for any final editions?"

Robb thought about it for a time. On one hand, he knew Luwin would automatically correct any potential spelling mistakes he had unknowingly made. He then thought that perhaps if something happened, he'd need to include the new information. But he quickly dissuaded himself of that notion. If anything of that magnitude was needed, other ravens or messengers could be sent.

"Nay. Once they are completed, you may send them out to all the lords."

"Very well. Is there anything else?"

"No. You may go Luwin."

"My lord." He bowed once before he too left. Robb was silent for a moment before he released a large sigh. To young boys, being a lord looked like nothing more than being a warrior. But studying with his father for years, and finally being entrusted with the largest kingdom of the Realm, made him realize that the art of administration and logistics was just as important as being a skilled warrior.

He had been in the solar since before the sun had even rose above the horizon. It was nearing midday, and his stomach began rumbling. He stood and walked around the desk, walking over to a small hanger by the door. Grabbing his dark overcloak, he through it over himself. It made his shoulders look broader, and his image, fiercer. He opened the door and began walking to the working chambers of Vayon Poole, the steward of Winterfell. Cayn and Wil, the two guards posted to the solar, began following him. He turned to them.

"Nay, stay at your posts. Guard the solar. I am in my home."

After the guards nodded, he continued on his path. Reaching the chambers of the steward, he knocked once on the door before entering. Sitting at a desk was Vayon Poole, writing up some sort of order. Seeing his acting liege lord enter his chambers, he stood and bowed.

"My lord. Is everything alright? You know you can send for me?"

"Aye, worry not Vayon. I wished to leave any ways."

"Of course, what can I do for you?"

"Worry not, only a handful of things. First and foremost, do any of the servants know their letters?"

"Some do, most do not. The ones I know from atop my head are Vyra, Ynes, and Bol. Any others, I'd have to investigate."

"Once you find all of them, please send them to maester Luwin. He needs assistance with copying a letter and needs as many hands as he can get on."

"Very good, I'll see it done, mi lord. Your father did the very same thing many times to assist Luwin…if I may?"

"Yes?"

"If you'd be open to it, it certainly wouldn't hurt to send a raven to the Citadel, requesting an assistant maester or even some acolyte assistants. After all, Winterfell is a great castle, and Luwin cannot do everything."

Robb rubbed his chin in thought. "Yes…yes, that is a good idea. Thank you Vayon, I'll write to them on the 'morrow."

"As for the other matter, mi lord?"

"Ah yes, please send word to the kitchen to prepare a meal for me and my wife. Send a wetnurse to watch over Samsyn. I wish to eat with my Lady wife alone."

"Of course, I'll send word immediately."

Nodding, Robb turned and left. He was on his way to the balcony overlooking the tiltyard, much like father always did, to watch Arya train with Edwyle and some of the men. He was at peace for a moment before he heard footfalls behind him. Turning, he saw Ser Rodrik approach him.

"Ser Rodrik, everything is well?"

"Aye, my lord. However, riders have been seen to the north, bearing the banners of the lion of House Lannister."

That was odd. "House Lannister? Who in the gods name is to the north of us?"

"If you remember, the second son of Lord Tywin had traveled north to visit the Wall. It is most likely him."

Oh yes, I do remember now. "Well, it would be remiss of me not to offer him a light feast and a warm bed." Motioning to Ser Rodrik to remain where he was, he turned and called down to his brother. Edwyle nodded and sheathed his blade. He ran up the stairs to join him.

"Robb, what is it?"

"Riders have been seen to the north; we believe it to be the party of Lord Tyrion Lannister. Make yourself presentable and lead a party north to escort him back to Winterfell, he'll dine with us tonight."

Nodding Edwyle left to wash the sweat off him and cloth himself more appropriately. Robb turned back to Ser Rodrik.

"You heard me, prepare a small party of men to join my brother. Also send word to Vayon to cancel my lunch plans and to order the kitchens to prepare a small welcoming feast."

Bowing, Ser Rodrik left.


Edwyle

Instead of taking a full bath, he elected to simply dampen a piece of cloth and wipe down all the seat on him. Putting on simply, yet fine leathers, he put on a black wolf's overcloak, similar to his brother Robb's dark brown one. Grabbing his blade, he buckled the scabbard around his waist and tied his small sheath for his dagger to the opposite side of his waist.

Leaving his chambers, he made his way over to the stables. Passing the dimwitted, but kind-hearted Hodor, he saw that his men were already prepared for him. Mounting his horse, he guided it over the main courtyard. Joining him was a small party of five guardsmen. A standard-bearer to hold the arms of House Stark, along with four other riders. One of whom was the new captain of the Winterfell guard, Hallis of House Mollen.

Gently tugging the reins, Edwyle moved his horse to the gate, the guardsmen opened it and lowered the drawbridge before opening the outer gate as well. Turning, he met the eyes of Hallis and the other men. Without speaking, he looked forward once more and snapped the reins, sending his mount forward, galloping at a strong pace.

The party moved through winter town first. In all honesty, it was a little saddening. Besides in winter, most of the town was empty. He always thought that the North should have a city rivaling those of the South. Regardless, they quickly moved through the urban, muddy streets of winter town and emerged onto the Kingsroad. He expertly flanked his horse to the right so as to circle the castle and ride north bound.

Though he could have left through the north gate, he elected to inspect the walls of Winterfell during his journey. The walls were of grey granite, standing strong. In reality, attempting to take the castle, while it was fully manned that is, was nigh on impossible. If, by the gods, the outer wall was taken, an enemy still had to either cross a drawbridge or one of the very flimsy gangplanks that connected the walls, planks that were specifically designed to collapse whenever an alarm sounded. In addition, the outer walls, though tall and mighty, was still shorter than the inner wall, it also possessed no crenellations along the inner side of the outer wall. This meant that should the outer wall fall, the enemies had no protection from arrow fire from within the castle.

He remembered his lessons well. He knew that the Winterfell Honor Guard numbered about a thousand of various types of troops. That being said, the castle could still mount a respectable defense with only three to four hundred guardsmen. He was just glad that House Stark could call upon ten thousand troops if needed without the need from their vassals.

Most southerners thought Northerners to be barbarians. This was very wrong. Especially in respect to House Stark. After all, as he had to remind his brother Robb, House Stark did not ascend to be the Kings of Winter through niceties and weakness. After the Starks conquered the entirety of the North, his ancestors worked on raising their own power base. It was through diplomacy that allowed them to initially call upon their vassals and gain new vassals from conquests.

But they did not wish to continue to rely on such houses. His ancestors worked to create new minor houses that dotted about a twenty-league radius around Winterfell. Over the centuries, these petty lords and houses, sworn directly to House Stark, grew to the point that in any rebellion, House Stark did not immediately need to call their banners. This was unique, yes. Though those petty lords sworn to House Stark are technically independent lords as are all the other vassals, they are not permitted to bear their own coat of arms nor possess their own words.

All their troops and guardsmen were outfitted in Stark livery and all young boys were taught about House Stark, not their own house. In reality, they served more as custodians than lords in the traditional sense. A southerner may assume that this may cause friction between Winterfell and these petty lords, yet to keep it fair, the taxes on these petty lords are nearly nothing, and many of their men are accepted at Winterfell to be guards or servants. This has allowed a brotherhood to be formed for centuries between the Starks and their direct host. A very good system if I say so myself.

In his own head, he realized his party was nearly to the Lannister's party, which had stopped as is customary. As they drew nearer, Edwyle was able to spot the dwarf at the lead, a special strap on his saddle allowing him to ride. Flanking him were three Lannister guardsmen in red. Two as escorts, and another as his standard-bearer. He slowed his horse until they stopped about thirty paces from one another. He initiated the welcoming.

"Hail! I am Edwyle of the House Stark!"

"I am Tyrion of the House Lannister!"

"I have been sent to escort you to Winterfell, where a hot meal and soft beds await!"

"Ha!" The dwarf turned to one of his guards and muttered something. "I see the honor did not depart Winterfell along with its lord…I assume Lord Stark left south already?"

"Aye, that's the truth! My brother, Robb, hold Winterfell and the North in our father's name! Come, follow us back to the keep!"


*I used the website ' ' to find the value of westerosi currency.

**I am aware that House Manderly uses quite a number of other titles. However, they sign these themselves. However, I (safely...hopefully) assumed that when House Stark communicates to them, they only refer to their northern titles as all the other titles refer to those honors that the House held when they were still in the Reach. As such, besides the inherent title of Lord of White Harbor, the only other northern title they have is Warden of the White Knife.