*WARNING: There is a very brief, not pictured, mention of SA near the end of this chapter. It is very minor but it is simply listed among a string of crimes!

298 AC

Robb Stark

The entire table was silent. He could hear the breathing of Edwyle next to him. Ser Rodrik was as stern as a statue. In his peripheral, he noticed some of the guards slowly approach the table. The two Lannister men were tense and began looking around. Guest rights was integral to the North. But it was not all encompassing; should a party have information about an attempt on a host family member, they are compelled to share it.

But lord Tyrion kept his eyes matched with his. I need to control this. "Maester Luwin."

Luwin walked forth. "Mi' lord?"

"Please take Arya, Brandon, and Rickon to their chambers." Bran and Rickon both seemed okay with it, but he heard a shift that he knew little Arya was about to argue. Thankfully, Edwyle leaned behind him. He was thankful, as he did not want to break the staring match with the Lannister lord yet. He didn't know what he did, but Arya agreed very quickly and left with her brothers.

The hall was quiet as the young pups were escorted from the room. Once they left, he resumed speaking.

"Lord Tyrion. Tell me everything. Now." He was surprised at the hardness of his voice. Apparently Tyrion thought the same at his widened eyes.

Before immediately answering, the little lion reached for a chalice to quench his thirst. He drank the entire cup in one gulp. Putting the cup back on the table, Tyrion looked around the table. If I were him, I'd be very careful in the way I'd proceed.

Starting slowly, the imp's voice grew in strength. "Before traveling to Winterfell, His Grace held a tourney celebration for my nephew's nameday. At the tourney, Lord Baelish had this blade. I placed a bet against him that Ser Loras Tyrell would defeat Ser Robar Royce in the joust."

He poured himself more wine before he continued. "Ser Loras won so I was given the dagger. But then, I placed my next wager on my brother, Ser Jaime, that he'd defeat Ser Loras. I never wager against family."

Robb made sure to listen not only to his voice, but his tone, his movements. He knew of the reputation that Northerners held. That we were too honorable for our own good, that our ability at the supposed great game was weak. But the North bred hard men. Perhaps he was not educated on the ins and outs of court intrigue, but he had become quite good at reading a person's 'Cyvasse Face.'

"Unfortunately for my pockets, my brother was unhorsed by Ser Loras. It is a fine blade, but I had lost and returned it back to Lord Baelish, all too smug for my liking."

He spoke for the first time since the imp began his story. "And that was the last time you saw it?"

"Oh not at all. Until I joined His Grace's party north, I always saw it either on Lord Baelish's person or in his private solar in the Red Keep."

He stood and motioned for the guards to relax and assume their positions. Ser Rodrik walked back until he was standing respectfully against the rear wall. He leaned over and placed his hands on the table.

"And why should I trust you? Hmm? To me, the corrupt members of the King's court are no better than the-"

"Robb." He turned and saw Edwyle widen his eyes in warning. Of course! How could I be so stupid. He did not like Tywin Lannister from what he heard, but to openly insult his family in the presence of his son was too far! It seemed that it was not lost on the imp who simply cracked a grin.

"My query still stands, my lord of lions. Why should I trust you?"

Lord Tyrion did not answer immediately. Instead, he leaned forward and actually turned to his brother Edwyle.

"Lord Edwyle, you have spent more time with me than your brother. I ask for your honest opinion; do I seem like a simpleton? Have you made the same assumption that many in the south have, that my stature must mean that my intelligence is of equal smallness?"

His brother, always the stoic, simply sat quietly, thinking. "No…no, you are not a simpleton."

"Aye, as I once said to my 'sweet' sister, Jaime has his sword, and me, my mind. And a mind needs practice just as a sword needs a whetstone." Now, the imp turned to look directly at him. "I not believe myself to be the smartest man in the realm, but I would like to think that I have my wits around me."

He sipped from his cup. "Which begs the question; what sort of imbecile arms an assassin with his own blade?"

It was a good point. A very good point. But he still saw through the argument. "Yet, that would make Lord Baelish an imbecile too. Would it not." He kept his voice low and cold.

"How very convenient for him."

Robb decided to turn the conversation another way, abruptly.

"Tell me of Petyr Baelish."

The imp too was mildly annoyed at such a turn of events but played it off well. "Very well."

"Tell me of him."

"A short man he is. If not for me, he'd be the smallest man in the capital. He sports a beard, smart and trimmed to only his chin and mouth."

"I don't care what he looks like, tell me of him, of his ways, of his character."

"Oh he's a charmer for sure. He is also a peddler of flesh in the many whorehouses of King's Landing. He was brought from the Vale by Lord Arryn. Though His Grace's reign has been a downward spiral of debt…Lord Baelish seemingly never has a difficulty finding more coin."

"Do you suspect foul play?" He recognized this was dangerous ground to walk on. Accusing a member of the Small Council of crimes without proof was tantamount to treason against the Iron Throne.

It impressed him when Tyrion made show he knew of this too but continued regardless. "Unsure. I certainly wouldn't trust him with anything more than serving as a butler. How he made it to the Small Council still surprises me."

"But; do you, suspect, foul play?" Robb made sure to annunciate every word.

"I certainly wouldn't past him. I can say nothing more than that."

He gave the lion lord a hard look. But after some tense moments, he nodded. "Hoarfrost."

"Mi' lord?"

"Our guests have had a weary journey. See them to their chambers."

The Lannister guards and little lion slowly stood from the table. as they were escorted out of the hall, he called their attention.

"Yes, Lord Robb?"

"Ser Rodrik brought me news of a captured bandit leader. On the 'morrow, I shall ride out and deliver Northern justice. I invite you to join me. After all, if you want to learn all about the North, you should see how we deal with those who cause us harm." Lord Tyrion was a man practiced in the arts of politics, but Robb was now the Lord of Winterfell for the moment, and his cold tone made even the little lion nod quickly, hopeful not to displease his host.

He waited until the last of the Lannister party was escorted out of the room when he turned to Ser Rodrik and his brother. "Solar. Now." He left no room for discussion.

"Do you believe him?"

Robb, Edwyle, and the Master-at-Arms were in the Lord's solar. Robb was behind the desk facing his brother.

"…Aye, I am inclined to. Tyrion Lannister is many things, but dull and witless is not one of them. Is he truthful about Lord Baelish? Perhaps, perhaps not. Is he truthful of his lack of knowledge about Bran's attempt? Aye, I believe that he did not have anything to do with it."

Robb was still suspect, but Edwyle cared for House Stark just as he did; if he truly thought the dwarf was at fault, he certainly wouldn't be as calm now.

"Robb." He gave Edwyle his attention. "You should send word to father. He has yet to arrive at the capital. If this Lord Baelish is truly as suspect as he is, we should send word now before he can sink his claws into father."

He nodded and wrote a small letter to be delivered.

Father

Tyrion Lannister was hosted on his return journey from the Wall. He claimed that the dagger used by the assassin on Bran belongs to Petyr Baelish, the Master of Coin.

You know both Edwyle's judgement and mine. We believe him.

Do not trust Baelish

Winter is Coming; the lone wolf dies, but the Pack survives.

Your son,

Robb

He folded the letter and sealed it with his signet ring. He walked over to Ser Rodrik with the letter.

"Ser Rodrik."

"Mi' lord?" He looked surprised.

"Edwyle does not need to tell me this. This is far too dangerous to leave to chance to raven. I shall write to Lord Manderly to prepare a ship for you."

He handed the knight the letter. "See to it that this is given to my father's hands only. If you are beset on by foes, or cannot give it to him for any reason, burn it. Destroy it. Ensure that only his eyes see this."

The knight had a mix of both genuine surprise and pride at the change of his lord's eldest son.

"Aye." He smiled. "Aye, I shall see it done."

"Good. Leave now, tonight. Prepare a party of men of any amount you require. I'll have the raven fly tonight."

The knight bowed and left the room. Leaving him and Edwyle. "And you, thank you for your insight brother."

"Of course."

"But Ser Rodrik's departure leaves yet another position open in the household." Robb was growing annoyed at all the temporary positions. "Since father and Ser Jory left, you have been Ser Rodrik's assistant. Until his return, consider yourself the acting master-at-arms of Winterfell."

Edwyle looked at him shocked. He got himself together quickly thought. "First order…mi' lord?" He asked smugly.

He grinned in return. "Assist Ser Rodrik with his departure. After he leaves, have a party prepared for tomorrow's execution."

"Aye, I'll see it done immediately."

Tyrion Lannister

When he awoke, he elected to call for a bath before he would join Robb Stark in his Northern execution.. Summoning a servant, he requested one and left for the hall to break his fast as it was prepared. A guard was posted outside his door and escorted him to the hall. The man, who was named Boemard he learned, was of average height. He was broad across the shoulders and was clearly muscled 'neath the leathers, chainmail, and bits of plate armor. He had to admit, House Stark knew how to choose their troops.

Entering the hall, he saw that Edwyle Stark was already at the high table. to his left was the younger Stark sister, Arya. The second son saw him and enter and called him over.

"Thank you my lord." He took a seat next to the young pup before turning to a servant. After giving his order, he once again turned to share conversation with the two Starks. Edwyle was his usual calm and quiet person, but Arya was a little ball of energy.

"What was the Wall like? Why do they call you the imp? Is it true that Casterly Rock is taller than the Wall? What's King's Landing like?"

Though he remained silent, it was clear that Edwyle Stark was quite amused at his sister's antics and the corner of his mouth began to curl upwards. Before he could answer himself, a plate of his morning meal was placed 'fore him.

It was a hardy meal. He was given both a slice of black sausage as well as some bacon, fried crisp. It was accompanied by two eggs, fried 'til runny. He was given four slices of thick bread, with what appeared to be a side of butter and snowberry jam. His eyes must have gone wide as Edwyle chuckled and turned to him.

"Aye, 'tis quite the meal my lord."

"Yes, very much so. I think mayhap I will not finish all of it."

Edwyle Stark simply shrugged his shoulders. "Regardless, I'd advise that you eat all you can. As I'm sure you've noticed by now, this is not the land of summer. A man needs his energy; in the North, even in the summer, we can still experience snowfalls."

Electing to follow the advice of a member of House Stark, he nodded and began to dig in greedily, not realizing his hunger. After taking a bite of bacon, he turned to Arya Stark.

"My lady, to answer some of your questions; the Wall was magnificent! I've never seen anything like it. A wall of pure ice!" He knew from dealing with Tommen and Myrcella that the best policy with children was to always be enthusiastic. "Though I was unable to tell, it is true from what I have heard from the maesters that Casterly Rock is in fact taller than the Wall, though less magnificent from the outside."

He wet his mouth with a sip of watered ale. "As for King's Landing, it is grand. Oh it has its distastes for sure, but nowhere else in the Seven Kingdom will you find such a concentration of people. Traders from all over the Known World can be found there."

But still little Arya seemed to be unimpressed. "And why do they call you the imp?"

Ah, she saw me skip over that one. "It is because I am smaller than I 'should be' according to my father."

Arya smiled; grateful all her questions were answered before returning to her own meal. He followed her example. He finished both the bacon and the black sausage as well as the two eggs. He could not find it within himself to finish all the bread and only consumed two. Leaving the table, he returned with Boemard to his chambers where a steaming bath was waiting for him.

Washing himself he allowed the stress to leave his body for the time being. The past day had been far more stressful than he thought. He allowed the steamy water to relax his muscles. He had made the mistake of assuming that the new generation of Starks followed in their father's steps in regard to the knowledge of the great game. He was quickly dissuaded from that belief.

Neither Robb nor Edwyle Stark were masters of the game, he'd admit that they played it far better than he initially assumed. The previous evening, by bringing up Lord Baelish's possible crimes, the young wolf had been testing him. Would he report them to the King? Would he play along? Though unrefined, Tyrion was genuinely astonished that they possessed the skill at all.

A knock sounded at the door. "Enter!" Tyrion was thankful there was a partition between the door and the tub. The butler of Winterfell, a fellow named Hoarfrost entered, his name recognizable. "My lord, Lord Stark has sent word that they are nearly prepared to be off."

"I will not keep him waiting, inform him I shall prepare myself quickly."

The servant left as he climbed out of the tub. His feet and body immediately shocked at the sudden cold temperatures. Walking hurriedly to his bed, he put on his stockings, his trousers, his doublet and finally his overcoat. Had he been a normal man, he would have strapped a blade at his waist…but he was not most men.

Leaving the room, Boemard was once again awaiting him. "Please take me to your lord. I am ready."

Silently nodding, the guard turned and escorted him to the inner courtyard where his mount had been nicely prepared. As he walked out of the keep, he saw a dozen Stark guardsmen already mounted. Robb and Edwyle were still checking the final straps on their own horses. Robb's horse was a beautiful, pale destrier. But it was his brother's mount that attracted his attention more. Edwyle apparently preferred to ride a deep brown courser. Strapped to the mount's side was the largest sword he had ever seen in his life.

It has to be…there is no other possibility. It had to the legendary blade Ice. Lord Stark must have left it with his son when he traveled south.

As he approached, both brothers heard his footfalls and turned to him. Robb maintained the cold face of a Northern lord while Edwyle offered an incredibly small smile.

"Lord Tyrion. We best be off now. The guards have held the prisoner overnight in a small village, no more than three or four homes. At a gentle gallop, we can make it there within the hour." Turning, the eldest Stark mounted his horse and began directing away, checking in with his guards. Tyrion saw his own two guards among them as well.

Edwyle moved to help him up on his horse, but he quickly waved him off. 'Twas true, he could not do all the things most could, but over the years he had been able to find ways to things himself. As soon as he mounted, Edwyle followed too. Robb Stark watched as the last riders mounted before turning. He could hear the lord snap his reins 'fore he quickly disappeared through the gate. He soon found himself snapping his reins, Edwyle Stark and his own two guards taking up the rear.

On one hand, he knew the invitation to go along with them was partly a veiled threat, he was also genuinely excited and curious.

Edwyle Stark

He had been pleasantly surprised at the little lion lord. He admired him for his conviction to accomplish many tasks himself. It certainly left a mark on some of the northerners that he had met. Actions spoke louder than words. This was proven once again as not once during the long ride did he hear the little lord complain. If he had any discomfort, he kept it to himself.

They had been riding for nearly an hour. He knew of the village that they were going to. He had once accompanied his father to assist with a dispute that had grown out of proportions. The party flanked around a bare crag in the land and then he saw it.

It was a humble village. Only four homes, along with two barns and meeting house. Despite its small size, it wasn't at all overly impoverished or in a poor state. All the villagers had their own profession and they proved to be a profitable village.

Their party road into the village, the occupants bowing as they rode by. They noticed the flapping of a direwolf banner by one of the barns. As they turned a corner, they saw the three guardsmen standing in front of it. He could hear Grey Wind growl at the flapping banner, but Phantom was as quiet as he usually was.

Stopping in front of the small corral that was before the barn, their party dismounted. Edwyle watched as one of the guards approached his brother to speak to him, in the meantime, he turned to check on lord Tyrion. He caught the imp groan a little as he dismounted but he made no other complaint.

Focusing on his own responsibilities, Edwyle untied the leather straps the held Ice to his horse. He carried it over to the front of the party with the Lannisters behind him.

By now, the guard had left his brother and was walking back to the barn, shouting to open and fetch the prisoner. The guards that rode with him began to set up a small perimeter to keep out any potential threats. He stood next to his brother and waited.

In that moment, he realized something. Robb had never carried out an execution before. He should have when he and him were ambushed years ago, but he had allowed that honor to be his. But looking at Robb now, had he any reservations, he kept them to himself.

The barn doors quickly opened, and two guards were dragging a man in chains out. The man was ragged. He wore thick leathers and had a sword belt strapped around him; the blade having been confiscated long ago. The man had a narrow face, its creases dirty and oily. They guards stopped just before the waiting block of stone in the corral.

To his left was Robb and to his right, flanking him, was standing Tyrion Lannister, creating a rudimentary 'L' formation. There was a moment of silence as Robb bowed his head before once again raising it. He looked at bandit leader.

"What gives you the right to kill me, ei?! What give you the right!" The man was angry and struggling against the chains. In a cold voice, Robb responded.

"What gives you the right to kill my people? To kidnap and rape their sisters and daughters?"

As the man continued to struggle, at Robb's nodding, the guards pushed him forward and forced his waist down so his shoulders were in line with the stone. Ceremoniously, he took a few steps away from Robb before kneeling on one knee. With outstretched hands, he offered the hilt of Ice to Robb. Grabbing it with both hands, in one fast motion, Robb pulled Ice from the scabbard and held it high.

The stinging sound as it left the scabbard silenced the last mutterings of noise from the observing guards and villagers. The blade was smoky with ripples all along the steel. True Valyrian steel was something else to beholden.

Swinging the blade down so the tip was resting in the dirt and Robb supported it from his hands on the pommel and hilt, he bowed his neck.

"In the name of Robert, of the House Baratheon, the first of His name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. I, Robb of the House Stark, do sentence you to die. Should you have final words, speak them now, or may you forever keep them."

"Should have been more careful with the last one." The bandit muttered. Edwyle couldn't resist sneering from that, but Robb held firm.

Nodding, Robb put his right foot back and sung the sword above his head. Holding it high for only half a moment, Robb swiftly brought it back down. The mumbling of the bandit cut off, and the body quit struggling.

As Edwyle bent down to hand the head to a guard, he ordered a single guard to prepare for them to return to Winterfell. Turning back around, he saw Robb still remain still. Though now, Robb was not looking at the body of the bandit.

He was looking right into the eyes of Tyrion Lannister.