Chapter 25
~Eddard Stark~
Ordinarily, when receiving a visitor they would be brought to him. As Lord Paramount, there were very few people that would warrant Ned waiting outside for them to arrive. Especially now, in that he was a guest of the Manderlys. While the rulers of White Harbor were (relatively speaking) new to the North they were still an old House, one deserving of respect, especially given their control of the North's only true city. That did not stop Ned and Wyman from standing atop the New Castle walls, watching as the procession from the Dreadfort marched through the gates below them.
So many dead men. How am I to defend him when he is so blatant?
There were a few living in the group, house guards atop horses, but the majority of the people were skeletons on foot. Their bones a vibrant white.
They are practically shining, I didn't think bone could be polished like that.
"Do you see, my lord?" Wyman asked. "How could I not ask you for help when this is what roams the North?"
"It is a concern, like the tales of the Long Night come true," Ned agreed. "Still, Lord von Carstein saved my sister's life. I'll not condemn him without first hearing his side of the story."
"A fair decision, my lord." Wyman frowned beneath his mustache. "Though I do not see her down there. Do you think von Carstein is keeping her hostage at the Dreadfort?"
Of course she's not down there, she can't be exposed to sunlight. But then why did they get here at midday?
When Ned had sent a raven to the Dreadfort, requesting Lyanna and Torrhen's presence in White Harbor so that they could answer Wyman's accusations, the answer he had gotten in response had been short and merely listed their expected arrival date. They had given him nothing to hint at how they planned on responding to all this.
If she's not here that just makes it all the more suspicious! They had to have known this. I'm being backed into a corner by their actions, now I have to respond.
Ned adopted a stern tone, as he went from a concerned brother to an impartial Lord Paramount, "I don't know where she is, but let's go find out."
The pair quickly descended the battlements, with Lord Manderly easily keeping up with Ned, something he found rather surprising given the man's enormous girth. While Wyman had been large during the Rebellion, he had still proven to be a capable warrior on the battlefield. Now Ned wondered how many horses would even be strong enough to hold the man.
Though Torrhen found a horse big enough for the Mountain, Ned thought as he entered the courtyard and saw the giant of a man getting off his ride. I'm sure Wymen isn't completely out of options.
Several of the Dreadfort guards Ned recognized, being former Winterfell men (especially Bran and his impressive mustache), and Clegane was so large that he would always be the first person people identified in a crowd. Torrhen was standing next to his moose and quietly talking to someone Ned couldn't identify as their back was to him.
"Lord von Carstein," Ned called out as he walked forward. The Dreadfort congregation all dropped to their knees, as expected since they were his bannermen, but the eerie part was that the skeletons all performed the action perfectly in sync with one another. Approximately twenty corpses all moving as one. "You were told to bring my sister with you. Where is she?"
"Right here, Lord Stark," Torrhen said, gesturing at the person kneeling beside him.
Ned blinked in surprise. "What?"
The armored figure rose to their feet. Much like Clegane, they were completely encased in metal. A strange helmet, the entire thing was black as night but seemed to shine in the light. The slick metal cowl was in sharp contrast to the complicated face guard, it looked like a human skull crossed with an insect's. Even the eye holes were covered by what appeared to be dragonglass. Where the mouth should have been, thin vertical bars covered metal that was etched in a complicated grid pattern, almost like a cage overlay. As complicated as the helmet was, it stood in sharp contrast to the suit of armor which, while equally dark as the headpiece, was simplistic in appearance, lacking any artistic designs in the metal. A black cloak billowed out behind them. It would have been quite intimidating if the person wasn't so short.
"Hello, Ned," Lyanna's voice echoed out of the helmet. She stuck a foot forward, presenting herself., waving her hands up and down her body. "Like the suit? It was a name day present from Torr- apologies, from Lord von Carstein."
"Your sister is quite skilled with a sword," Torrhen said, still kneeling. "But there are limits to how good she can get in the yard without her own armor. So I commissioned this from a blacksmith in King's Landing that the Martells recommended to me."
"It looks very well made," Ned said honestly but then shook his head, realizing he had gotten distracted. "Anyway, rise. Rise everyone. There is much that must be discussed."
It took some time but eventually all the necessary parties were gathered in the New Castle's great hall.
Lord Manderly, Lord Hornwood, and Mors Umber were on one side of the room while Torrhen, Lyanna, and Cleg- Krell, he's called Krell -were on the other side. There were servants ready to provide refreshments but the only guards in the room were ones Ned had brought from Winterfell. He had discussed this with Wyman beforehand and the lord of White Harbor had agreed to this arrangement, in the interest of Ned appearing as impartial as possible.
He would have preferred if Krell was outside with the Dreadfort's other guards but Krell had been introduced as Torrhen's sworn shield, so had been allowed in (though he at least had left the greataxe outside). Ned also wished that Oberyn Martell hadn't somehow found out about this entire ordeal and invited himself. The rest of the Dornishmen had been refused attendance, with the excuse that this was a purely Northern affair, but one did not easily stop a Prince of Dorne, least of all the Red Viper.
"Are we all here? Or is there someone else we are waiting on?" Oberyn asked. The man wasn't sitting in his chair so much as sprawled in it, seemingly the perfect image of a relaxed and uncaring nobleman, only here because it seemed interesting. Ned knew it was an act though. Oberyn Martell's reputation as a hedonist may have been well earned but that didn't mean the man was stupid, Ned suspected quite a bit of Oberyn's image was cultivated intentionally, so that people would underestimate him.
I never used to think like this, to suspect people of ulterior motives, but this is what my life has become. Lying to everyone, barely trusting anyone, all to protect my family.
"Ignoring your poor manners," Ned chose not to comment on Oberyn's smirk and continued, "Yes we are ready. Lord Manderly, you wish to accuse Lord von Carstein of something?"
"Torrhen von Carstein is, I believe, a danger to everyone south of the Wall. He raises the dead to do his bidding, just like the Others, and has been amassing troops along both his southern and northern edges of his land. It is quite clear he tends to break the King's Peace."
Even though Wyman had discussed all this with Ned beforehand, he still felt a jolt run through his body as the words were uttered. This was real, there was no turning back now, one of the most powerful bannermen of the North publicly spoke out against Ned's brother.
Reactions were mixed. Halys nodded along as Wyman spoke but Mors looked decidedly uncomfortable, as if he didn't really agree with the statement. Oberyn was (surprisingly) silent, merely raising an eyebrow. Krell was unreadable in his armor and may as well have been a statue. Lyanna had removed her helmet when she had entered the Great Hall so Ned was able to clearly see the exasperation on her face. Torrhen had the strongest response.
"What the fuck are you on about Manderly, you fat sack of shit?!"
"Lord von Carstein, emotion is expected in this situation but you will control your words," Ned chastised sternly. "How do you respond to the charge?"
"I deny it! Yes, I use magic and raise the dead but that's only to strengthen my lands and the North." Torrhen jabbed a finger at Wyman. "Something he has profited from! I primarily sell my sugar, syrup, and moonshine to White Harbor."
"The products you sell are not the subject of this trial." It was an effort to keep his voice level, he wanted to shout at his brother to stop making the situation worse. Torrhen was normally so calm and laid back, for him to get this upset was very out of character. But then it is not every day one is accused of treason. "Now then, Lord Manderly, what evidence do you have to support your claim?"
"To start: I was informed that spirits are roaming the New Gift, a clear threat to Umber lands and their smallfolk."
"I was given permission for that!" Torrhen shot back.
"My nephew made no mention of such a thing to me," Mors said, speaking for the first time.
"Not the Greatjon." Torrhen pointed at Ned. "From you."
"I . . . what? When?" Ned asked, trying to recall what Torrhen was talking about.
"Back when I first assumed control of the Dreadfort. I wrote you a letter mentioning that I caught wildling raiders on my land, they were in the process of abducting two women. I asked to be allowed to establish a group of fast response horsemen that I could send out to chase down wildlings."
Ned nodded. "I remember now. I did say you could establish a group of no more than thirty so long as you paid for all their upkeep and got the blessing of whatever lord whose land they would be patrolling."
"And he never asked the Umbers," Lord Manderly said.
"They are not on Umber land, the New Gift belongs to the Night's Watch, and I did ask them. Lord Commander Mormont was fine with it."
"He was fine with spectral horsemen patrolling the New Gift?" Lord Manderly asked, his eyes narrow in suspicion.
Torrhen shrugged. "He was fine with fast moving horsemen possibly catching any wildlings that slipped past his own men."
Which means he never mentioned to Mormont that the troops he would be deploying would be dead.
"I shall write to the Lord Commander to confirm if he did or did not grant you permission," Ned declared. "So until I get a response, this particular piece of evidence will be set aside. Lord Manderly, you may continue."
"The Alchemists Guild has relocated from King's Landing to outside the Dreadfort. And we all know what they nearly did to that city."
"I do not host the entire guild," Torrhen argued. "Why does everyone think that? Even the alchemists themselves were under that impression initially, that I would welcome them all. I have a small group, only eight work for me, and they do not make wildfire. I have them working on other projects, it was they who developed the formula for the ink for the printing press."
"While I admit the idea of alchemists in the North fills me with dread, King Robert never outlawed their order and I am unwilling to go against that. So while I will not forbid their presence in the North, I will also not censure any lord that chooses not to allow them on his lands. However, I will also not accept merely the appearance of an alchemist, or eight, as an admission of guilt. Lord Manderly, you may continue."
"Entire hosts of skeletons have been raised from the dead, used as cheap labor to do roadwork, meaning his actual smallfolk don't have to pay Corvée. If that keeps up, all smallfolk from the surrounding lands will flock to him leaving other lords unable to complete our own projects."
Lyanna actually wrote to me, worried about the same thing. Though she seems to have unsold just how many dead were up and about if the stories Wyman told me are true.
"It's becoming abundantly clear that you will not be convinced by any words from me," Torrhen said.
"Words are wind. It is your actions that gave rise to my suspicions and your behavior since arriving in my city has done nothing to convince me otherwise," Lord Manderly replied.
"In that case, I demand trial by combat."
Ned barely managed to keep the surprise off his face. When they were children Torrhen had once launched into a long lecture about the stupidity of trial by combat and that it didn't determine the guilt or innocence of anyone, only who was more skilled or lucky in a fight. For him to now ask for the very thing he had derided in the past seemed rather contrary.
"Lord von Carstein," Ned said evenly. "We are still discussing the evidence against you. As a noble of the realm, trial by combat is your right to request but it will be the final decider. You may not later ask for us to talk things out if the fight does not go the way you wish. So I'll ask you: are you sure you want a trial by combat?"
Torrhen nodded silently.
Ned sighed. "Very well, you have tonight to prepare. We will have a trial by combat come midday tomorrow."
~Arianne Martell~
Life is complicated, Arianne thought to herself.
She was a princess of Dorne, THE princess of Dorne in truth, but was no great beauty. Sure, her family assured her she was pretty but Arianne knew the truth, she was pudgy and flat-chested. Men would not want her for her, they'd only seek her hand to be Prince-Consort, for the prestige and money they would get.
When Father had informed her that Tyene would be sent north to foster with Lord von Carstein, Arianne had been dismayed at losing her best friend but happy for her all the same. But then she had also been told that she would be going with Tyene, that Mother would be attempting to set up a betrothal agreement for Arianne. A mysterious sellsword-turned-lord from across the sea, who had fought knights to rescue women, who had powerful magic to command a dragon, it was like something out of a song. Arianne had been so excited, too excited apparently, because on the boat ride up her mother had warned her that Lord von Carstein was likely to refuse, having already turned such an offer down when her father had brought it up back when Aunt Elia had been rescued.
"So then why are we trying, if he's going to say no?" Arianne had asked her mother.
"Because if he can be convinced to change his mind, all of Westeros could align against Dorne and we'd still be safe," had been the response.
The answer had caught Arianne by surprise, but after thinking about it she realized how much sense it made. With three dragons Aegon the Conqueror took over most of Westeros, there were a lot more than three dragon skeletons in King's Landing for Lord von Carstein to raise, to say nothing of all the human corpses he could make use of. Still, it had been a little saddening to find out that her parents wanted Arianne to marry Lord von Carstein for his military and magical powers rather than because they thought the pair would fall in love. She wanted what her parents had.
Regardless, the best way to fall in love with someone, or make them fall in love with you, was to spend time with each other. So Arianne was traversing the halls of the New Castle, searching for Lord von Carstein. It wasn't a foolproof plan, she knew this. Lord von Carstein traveled the world, had unfathomable magic, and was likely incredibly good looking under his mask, he was a more impressive version of her uncle Oberyn. It was unlikely the Lord of the Dreadfort would be seduced by a frumpy ten year old but Arianne had to try. She had overheard some servants mention that Lord Stark was talking privately with Lord von Carstein, but Arianne had checked the chambers both men had been provided and found them empty. While she didn't know where the men were, she wasn't aimlessly wandering either. Arianne was searching the keep room by room, starting in the guest wing and expanding outward. She had sent Tyene to start at the outer walls and work inwards. Between the two of them, they would find Lord von Carstein eventually, hopefully before he retired for the night since he did have the trial by combat in the morning and would likely be going to sleep early.
I just hope he wins, otherwise we came all this way, braved the cold, for nothing.
Grabbing the handle of the next door in the hall, Arianne pulled it open, revealing the library. Before she started searching the room, she heard the unmistakable sound of Lord von Carstein's deep voice.
"Being a hypocrite doesn't make me wrong Ned, it just makes me a hypocrite. Which I acknowledge."
"It's dishonorable, Torrhen!" Lord Stark argued, frustration clear in his tone.
They call each other by their first names? They must be close, Lord von Carstein did save Lord Stark's sister.
"A trial by combat is dishonorable?" There was an obvious fake gasp. "Eddard Stark! I am shocked, that is a tradition that predates the coming of the Andals. How dare you speak of the First Men so negatively?"
It was at that point Arianne, having paid more attention to the conversation than where she was going, slammed her foot into a bookcase and tripped forward. The breath was pushed from her lungs when she hit the floor and she gave an audible grunt of pain, partially from the fall but mostly from her now aching toes.
By the time she had pushed herself back up, both the lords were standing in front of her.
"And this is why I wanted to have a guard at the door, Torrhen. Instead, I trusted in your 'ability to hear anyone coming' and someone came, and you didn't hear."
"I got distracted, it happens," Lord von Carstein said before turning to look at her. "Arianne, are you alright? Also, what are you doing here? I would have thought you'd be with your family."
Arianne covertly smoothed out her dress as she gazed at her hopefully-soon-to-be-betrothed. He was. . . not as handsome as she had been imagining. While the lower half of his face was covered by a veil, she was still able to notice several things about him. Back when he had been in Sunspear she had only been able to see his gray eyes, which were now completely white. She would have assumed he had gone blind except that he quite clearly could still see. He didn't seem to have an ounce of fat on him, his skin practically clinging to his bones. Between that and his long nails, his fingers resembled claws more than anything else. Lord von Carstein's flesh was exceedingly pale, giving him an unhealthy sickly look. His brown hair was cut short, seemingly the only normal part of his appearance because even his ears look off, almost pointed.
"I came looking for you, my lord. It is not often someone is accused of, well everything Lord Manderly said about you. I came to lend you my ear if you needed it."
From the way his eyes crinkled, Arianne knew he was smiling but she got the impression Lord von Carstein was more amused than actually pleased at her proclamation.
"I've said all I came to say," Lord Stark said with a tired sigh. "Princess, should you not have a chaperone with you rather than wandering the New Castle on your own?"
"Do I need one? I was under the impression that Northerners considered guest rights paramount? Are you saying I am not safe in the care of the House Manderly, your bannerman?"
"I'll walk her back, Ned. Spare you the headache."
Lord Stark nodded his head. "Very well. One way or another this will be resolved come morrow. Princess, Torrhen."
And then he was gone, leaving Arianne alone with the man she needed to marry.
I can do this. I will do this.
"Let's get you to your family," Lord von Carstein said as he placed a hand between Arianne's shoulder blades to guide her out of the library.
"You're talking down to me," Arianne complained, her tone sounding much more petulant to her ears than she wanted. "I'm not a child."
He gave a short bark of laughter as they entered the hallway. "You're ten, you absolutely are a child."
"That. . . may be so," she admitted awkwardly before quickly rallying. "But I'm not a babe!"
His deep voice was gentle as he spoke, "Never said you were."
She didn't know what to say in response. I'm young but I'm still a princess of Dorne, my father's heir. I've been trained for this. But Uncle Oberyn did say that we shouldn't treat Lord von Carstein as other lords, he said he was different. What should I do? What can I say?
Eventually, she decided to get right to the point as she didn't know how much time she'd have to talk with him. "Do you know why my mother and I came to the North?"
"Part of it is escorting your cousin to me, I imagine. Though I heard some servants mention what was likely the main reason: your mother is looking to set up a betrothal for you."
She nodded. "That is correct."
"I approve."
Her heart jumped in her chest. "You do?"
"Robb Stark is a good boy, he'd treat you well. Though there would be some culture clash between the two of you. Not to mention problems of inheritance since you both are heirs."
Oh, he didn't mean him. "But what if I don't want to marry the Stark?"
He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Did you have someone in mind that you did want to marry?"
"Yes." You. Well. . . maybe you. In the confines of her mind, Arianne had to admit that meeting Lord von Carstein had hampered her desire to marry him. She had wanted a suave, handsome, dangerous sellsword-turned-lord from across the sea. So far he hadn't been that suave and wasn't handsome, if he lost the trial by combat in the morning then he also wasn't dangerous. Of course, if he loses he'll also be dead so he won't be an option to marry anyways.
"That's good. If you didn't have someone to point to as another option you'd be unlikely to succeed in changing your parent's minds. Would they approve of you marrying that man instead of Robb?"
"Yes." They'd prefer it.
"That makes things much easier. Have you discussed this with them?"
Arianne tried to keep her confusion off her face as she thought of how to answer. This conversation had not gone the way she had hoped it would. Does he really not see himself as an option? He didn't even suggest it. I may not have Mother's looks but I'm still a princess of Dorne! Men would love to marry me. Though he did turn down the offer once before from Father, maybe he's a sword swallower? Is that why he's being so helpful? Should I tell him he's the man they want me to marry?
Eventually, she said, "I have, the problem is the man turned down a betrothal offer when my father discussed it with him."
"Did he say why?"
"No-" Arianne began but paused. Did he ever say why? Or was I simply not told? "I don't know."
"So you have a man you want, he meets all the requirements you have for a husband."
Not really, Arianne thought to herself. But you are powerful enough that Dorne needs you. Having Tyene foster with you is good but it's not enough, apparently.
"But do you meet all the requirements he has for a wife?" Lord von Carstein continued, unaware of Arianne's thoughts. "Are you a woman he would want?"
"Why wouldn't I be? I'm a princess of Dorne, heir of my father, set to inherit rulership of an entire kingdom."
Lord von Carstein shook his head. "An important aspect of negotiating a contract is understanding what the opposing party wants and values, what they hope to get out of it. But an equally important part is knowing what they don't want, what they don't care about." At Arianne's look he continued, "For example, say an older lord who already has multiple sons loses his wife and wants to remarry. He could seek out a young, healthy woman who promises to give him more children. But he's already got plenty of sons, he doesn't need more, what he needs is money because he happens to be in debt to the Iron Bank. So instead he looks for a woman with a large dowry, possibly even a merchant's daughter. Do you see what I mean?"
"You're saying some men might not care about becoming Prince Consort and if I wanted to marry one of them, I'd need to find what they do care about."
"I certainly wouldn't want the position. Most Northerners likely hold a similar opinion, though the reasoning for that view probably differs from person to person."
"You - you wouldn't want to be Prince Consort of Dorne?"
"The sun is too harsh in your homeland, my skin burns easily. I'm sure you remember the robes I had to wear while I was there."
Arianne nodded. "Aye, I do."
"In addition to that, I'm the Lord of the Dreadfort now. I have a duty to my people, I can't leave them."
"So any woman you married would have to come live with you."
"That is the standard way of things in the North, yes," Lord von Carstein said in a patronizing tone that infuriated Arianne. "Actually, it's standard pretty much everywhere except Dorne. There are exceptions of course, if the woman is of much higher standing than her husband they'll stay with her family instead of his. I know one of the Lannister women is married to a Frey and they live in Casterly Rock, though I can't recall which ones they are."
Arianne didn't respond when he finished speaking, instead she thought about his words. He doesn't want to leave the North. So if we married I'd have to renounce Sunspear, Quentyn would inherit it. Could I do that? It was something she hadn't ever considered before, never thinking it would be a requirement. Give up my birthright because Mother and Father wanted me to, for the good of House Martell, for the good of Dorne. But it won't be good for me. . . would it?
~Eddard Stark~
The courtyard of the New Castle was packed full of spectators. The sun was at its zenith above their heads as Ned looked over the assembled nobles and smallfolk. Nodding at the trumpeter next to him, Ned waited for the crowd to quiet down at the loud blast from the musical instrument.
Standing up, Ned spoke, "Lord Wyman Manderly has accused Lord Torrhen von Carstein of treason and sedition. Lord von Carstein had chosen trial by combat to prove his innocence. Both men have chosen champions to fight in their places. Lord Manderly has named his son and heir, Ser Wylis Manderly, to represent him. Lord von Carstein has named his sworn shield, Krell, to represent him. The fight is to the death unless Lord Manderly, as the accuser, withdraws the accusation, which he may do at any time should he wish." He paused, giving Wyman a chance to speak, but the large man was silent. "While many gathered here worship the Old Gods, just as many worship the New, so a Septon shall give a short blessing."
Ned didn't pay attention to the preacher's words, only listening close enough to know when the prayer was finished. He had no hatred for Seven, Catelyn was a devout follower of the religion, but given the stakes of this fight Ned didn't have it in him to think about gods he didn't worship.
"And with that," Ned said once the Septon finished. "This trial by combat may now begin."
Ned sat back down. He, the Manderlys, Torrhen, Hayls, and Mors were all seated in a row of chairs with a clear view of the fight. They were the only ones not being crowded by the press of bodies, everyone else was standing close together to watch what was about to happen.
The two combatants hefted their weapons. They couldn't have been more different. Krell, with his enormous two handed greataxe, and Wylis, with a sword and shield. The fighters themselves were also quite different. Krell was massive, nearly eight feet in height, making Wylis seem tiny in comparison despite being a large man himself.
Krell stepped forward and swung an overhand chop down at Wylis, who chose to dodge rather than block. That turned out to be the correct decision as the blade of Krell's weapon buried itself in the dirt with a loud crack, completely covering it up to the haft.
The force of that much weight would probably have smashed straight through his shield.
Wylis surged forward, his sword raised for a strike, but Krell moved far quicker than anyone his size should be able to, yanking his axe from the ground and blocking the attack with the shaft of his weapon.
As a well-trained knight, Wylis adapted to the surprise move by his opponent and backed up. While this gave the Manderly a clear view of Krell it also gave Torrhen's sworn shield enough space to bring his greataxe around for another attack. This was a horizontal swing and, again, Wylis didn't attempt to block. He moved further away, out of range of the weapon.
Ned could guess what Wylis was likely thinking, likely the same thing everyone else was: how was he going to win? Krell had longer reach and hit harder, meaning Wylis would have to get in close in order to win, but one wrong move could mean his death.
A death I am sadly hoping for, Ned thought morosely. He liked Lord Manderly as well as Wylis; they were loyal vassals of the Starks and had served honorably. But if they won that meant Ned would have to sentence his brother to death. While he had to give the appearance of an impartial lord, Ned was anything but.
Oddly enough, someone that had seemed to be actually impartial was Mors Umber. Ever since Ned had arrived at White Harbor, the man had been subdued, clearly conflicted about something, for why else would an Umber be quiet? Anytime Ned had questioned Mors about his nephew's concerns about Torrhen and the undead, the elder Umber had given short responses.
Ned was drawn from his thoughts as the crowd erupted. Krell had missed another attack and Wylis had used the opportunity to get in close and shove his sword into the armpit of Krell's armor.
Is there even anything to stab inside that cuirass? Is Krell just a collection of bones held together with Torrhen's magic?
Rather than knock Wylis away Krell dropped his weapon, the greataxe falling to the dirt with a heavy thud, and wrapped his thick arms around the Manderly. Wylis' girth meant Krell was probably one of the few people in the Seven Kingdoms capable of such a feat.
"Oh," Ned muttered quietly as Krell lifted Wylis off the ground, still caught in the bear hug. Just how strong is he? Wylis was by no means a small man and wearing armor but Krell picked him up without any indication of difficulty.
From where he sat, Ned could see that Wylis' left arm was pinned in place, holding onto his shield between the two men. His right arm was free but only because he had stopped trying to pull his sword out of Krell, which was still wedged into his side. Wylis was beating against Krell's helmet, his fist not seeming to do anything.
Wylis froze for a moment, his arm stopping midswing, before he quickly redoubled his efforts, striking Krell with a frantic energy. His entire body was thrashing in Krell's grip.
"Lord Manderly," Torrhen called out. "If you don't want to watch your son get squeezed to death in front of you, I suggest you speak now."
"That - that won't happen. Wylis will get out of this, you'll see."
"As angry as I am, I'd prefer a loyal subject of Lord Stark who was only trying to do what his father wanted, not die over this. But if you refuse, that is what will happen."
Lord Manderly shook his head. "No, I have faith in my son."
Faith that looks to be misplaced. Wylis still hadn't managed to break free from Krell's grip or even budge the giant man.
"Then on your head his death will be," Torrhen said calmly.
While Wyman watched the fight with a hint of nervousness, his gooddaughter, Wylis' wife, looked to be on the verge of hysterics. Her gaze kept jumping between Wyman, Torrhen, Wylis, no doubt hoping for someone to do something that would keep her husband from getting killed before her eyes. She even turned to look at Ned at one point but he could only shake his head.
It's not up to me, I dont have the power to end this.
Wylis cried out in pain as he continued to attack Krell ineffectually. Ned thought he could make out the sound of metal bending but that might have just been in his mind. But then Wylis gave another scream and went limp in Krell's arms.
Ignoring the loud wailing of Wylis' wife, Ned rose from his chair. "This trial by combat has ended, the gods have determined Lord von Carstein to be innocent of the charges leveled against him by Lord Manderly."
Krell dropped the corpse in his arms to the ground with all the care someone would a clod of dirt.
Torrhen waved a hand through the air, his fingers glowing a sickly red. "Huh, he's not dead. Does Krell have to kill him or am I safe since you just announced it?"
Wyman leapt to his feet and shouted, "Yield, yield! I withdraw the accusations! Don't harm my boy any further!"
"Oh, well that's good," Torrhen said, speaking as calmly as if he were discussing what clothes to wear. "I'd be careful when moving him if I were you. I'm sure he's got broken ribs, one of those could puncture an organ, assuming they haven't already."
Wyman began shouting orders. Krell picked up his large greataxe and stepped away as people rushed forward to help the fallen Manderly knight.
Ned sighed. "Lord von Carstein, take a walk with me. We have much to discuss. I doubt your presence would be appreciated by the Manderlys anyway."
His brother nodded and followed him as Ned made his way through the crowd to a more isolated location, his guards and Krell trailing behind the pair.
"Just because you won, I doubt the Manderlys will trust you now," Ned began as they entered a quiet hallway.
"Of course they won't, Krell nearly killed their heir. Hell, he still might die depending on the skill of their maester. It's why trial by combat is stupid at a conceptual level."
"Didn't stop you from demanding it," Ned argued.
"Manderly was biased against me from the start, you heard him admit he wouldn't accept my words."
"Because of your behavior! You arrived with a score of undead!" Ned gestured behind them. "Krell still has Wylis' sword stuck in him. Of course that will make my bannermen concerned about you."
Torrhen blinked. "Oh. Krell, remove that thing. Go give it back to Wylis."
When the sworn shield pulled the weapon free, Ned noticed there was no blood on the blade. How would someone kill Krell? Is it even possible?
"Regardless," Torrhen said as Krell walked off. "I have been nothing but friendly since you gave me the Dreadfort. I've generated a lot of money, both for you in taxes and for the Manderlys by selling my products in White Harbor. And they spit on everything I've done by accusing me of treason."
"Well, you are unmarried and rather isolated. We need to integrate you more into the North-"
"That is not my fault!" Torrhen interrupted. "I have been trying to find a bride, was even focusing on getting one from White Harbor because I thought it would be a good connection to have, but they've all been giving me the run around if not outright refusing to discuss it! Now I know why, Manderly wanted to get rid of me."
"Alright, so it's not your fault. But it is still an issue. I'll talk to Wyman about which of his bannermen-"
But Torrhen interrupted Ned again, "Fuck no! I'm not rewarding him with a marriage! I'll go find a wildling bride before I marry any of these unappreciative shits!"
I don't think I've ever seen him this wroth before. While Torrhen had always held strongly to his beliefs, he had also been very easy-going. He was not a person quick to anger or one to hold onto it. He feels strongly about this.
"You need a bride. If not someone sworn to White Harbor, then who?"
Torrhen shrugged, his wrath disappearing like snowflakes in the wind. "I'm not sure, someone who values all the work I've done. The Martells like me, maybe they can recommend a Dornish woman."
Ned ran a hand over his face. "Marrying outside the North isn't going to help you get accepted by Northmen."
"Says the man married to a Tully, who was previously with a Dayne."
He glared at his twin. "That is different and you know it."
"Yeah," Torrhen conceded. "I know. You're a Stark, I'm an outsider. I get it."
"Are you aware that was what first got Wyman suspicious of you? You lack the accent of someone from Essos."
Even three years later, Ned still thought about Torrhen's decision to drop the Stark name. He wondered how differently things might have turned out had they been honest that Ned was gifting the Dreadfort to his brother.
"No plan is perfect, picked the best option available," Torrhen said.
"Lord Stark, Lord von Carstein!" a voice called out.
Coming from behind them was Mors Umber, hurrying to catch up to their location in the hallway.
"Crowfood. I was just discussing with Lord von Carstein how best to minimize any negative feelings regarding this whole incident. Do you have something to add to that?"
Ned hoped the large man would take the hint and make an offer of reconciliation and was pleasantly surprised when that was exactly what happened.
"Yes, I wished to apologize for the actions of my House, myself, and the part we played in all this. I will not deny that we thought you had sold your soul to the Others for the power you wield, and truthfully some part of me still thinks that, but you've proven yourself an ally to me and mine."
Torrhen raised an eyebrow. "I did?"
"I received a raven from Last Hearth the day before Lord Stark arrived in White Harbor. My daughter, Frenya, had been kidnapped by wildlings. My nephew sent men out to try and rescue her but the wildlings had a large head start so the chances of success were small. But they eventually found her, she was being escorted back through the New Gift by your ghostly horsemen, along with three smallfolk women. Your spirits rescued those girls, rescued my daughter, my Frenya from a life of. . ." Mors trailed and spit on the floor. "Anyway, you'll not receive another bad word from my family, I'll make sure of that."
Ned couldn't keep quiet when such an opportunity presented itself. "Your daughter, is she betrothed?"