ROBB IV

Tired and miserable were the two words that Robb felt best described his current state almost perfectly. Being awakened in the middle of the night seemed to be the new order of the castle for him. Just like the night of the Sign, except this time it was not of his doing. The heir of Winterfell had awakened in the earliest morn to insistent pounding on his door, the banging pulling him from his blissful rest like war drums pulling soldiers into formation. He shot upright, his eyes bleary with sleep not caught. He and Jon had drilled hard the previous day, and it seemed every inch of his body creaked in protest at the sudden motion. Robb was but a hair away from growling at the intruder to go bugger himself with a hot poker when the door swung open to reveal the long face of Father. He was fully dressed to travel, a grey jerkin over a black doublet, a great grey cloak covering both, and his extremities were covered in fine boots and gloves of boiled leather and felt. Though his face was solemn, his eyes betrayed a fear and uncertainty that was vanishingly rare in the Lord of Winterfell. That alone was enough to shake him to the core. Yet, somehow, the words he spoke felt like enough to shatter him.

"Arya and Bran have vanished. Old Nan happened to check on Bran's chambers, and found that he was gone. Arya too."

Robb merely stared at Father, bewildered.

"But...how?"

Father's eyes hardened.

"That blue-cloaked stranger has vanished," he said simply, though his tone was as steel.

Of course.

Robb was of the same mind as Jon and Father about the strangers. They were guests, and there were few things more sacred in the North than guest right. All the same, they were seen with wary suspicion, and with good reason. While the griffon knight himself was the very soul of courtesy and grace, his mount was an ornery beast. The day before, their sparring had been temporarily interrupted when the ravaged corpse of a doe had dropped down on them from the skies. Fat Tom had nearly been flattened. When the men had looked up, they saw the monster high above, lazily drifting on the winds. Judging by the state of the carcass, it had likely only been half eaten before the griffon just let it go, apparently sated. Robb thanked the gods that not only had no one been injured, but that Sansa had not been there to see the poor eviscerated deer and its splattered entrails. His sweet-hearted sister would have suffered nightmares for a whole moon. And if it could do that to a whole deer, what could it to do to a man? Or a child?

Like an arrow loosed from a bow, Robb shot from bed, trying to hold down the panic that was rising in his throat. He pulled out riding clothes from his wardrobe, hurrying to get dressed. Absurdly he was reminded of childhood, when he and Jon awoke to find that a summer snow had fallen, and they raced to see who could get dressed first. But this was no game, and the lives of his family could be at stake. Robb swiftly pulled on a jerkin, vehemently cursing when his shaking fingers failed him in lacing it up. He nearly flinched when he felt Father lay a hand on his shoulder, and turned to meet his gaze.

"Steady, Robb. We'll find them," now his voice was softer, and he could see the worry etched on the lines of Father's long face.

Robb slowly nodded, forcing himself to take a few deep breaths and bring his swirling thoughts and fears under control. He finished dressing, and followed Father out into the corridor. Fat Tom and Hal were already there, along with a few of the other household guards. All were clad in hauberks of ringmail over boiled leather, and wore longswords at their sides. Hal carried an extra sword on him, and handed it to Robb, his square jaw set with determination.

"Sorry for such a sudden introduction to real swordplay, m'lord. But this is no game."

Robb swallowed when he turned it over in his hand. Live steel. No game, indeed.

He furrowed his brow, looking up from the blade at Father.

"Where are Jon and Theon?"

Father looked past him, down the hall towards the stairs that led to Jon and Theon's chambers. They were located lower in the tower that housed the trueborn Stark sons, as was thought to befit a bastard and a hostage.

"I sent Jory ahead to fetch them, secure Sansa and Rickon, and tell Hullen to prepare the horses for a search party. Robb and Jon are to meet us when we go out into the yard to depart."

A thought struck Robb then, as their party departed to wherever Father's destination was.

"Before you only mentioned the blue-robed one, what was his name, Yo-han," Robb tried to pronounce the unfamiliar name, "What of the other two?"

A grimace appeared on Father's face.

"The griffon knight is out in the yard. I'm told he's sleeping with the griffon."

Robb's brow shot up at that.

"Sleeping?"

"Aye, like a boy with a hound. We'll deal with him later, preferably without any confrontation. By the gods, I doubt we'd survive one anyway."

Robb shuddered at the thought. He couldn't imagine getting any closer to the beast than was absolutely necessary, much less sleeping next to the bloody thing.

"So, what of Deadeyes?"

Father smiled a bit at the name that had stuck to Klutzer around the castle, though Robb personally thought it a tad inaccurate. His eyes were not dead in his opinion, they merely burned with an intense fervor at whatever he looked at. More than a few maids had nearly cried from a mere glance of his, and Robb couldn't blame them.

"He is who we are going to right now. We don't know if he had a hand in this, and they have guest right. But if he did…" Father grimaced, and his eyes were colder than a blizzard. He didn't have to finish his words for Robb to understand. They turned a corner and opened thick ironwood doors, exiting onto the long covered bridge that took them over the training yards and towards the guesthouse, where Klutzer was staying. In the middle of the span stood Lady Stark, animatedly giving instructions to Septa Mordane, who rushed past their party towards the Great Keep, only briefly pausing to give Father and Robb a curt bow. Father hurried ahead to embrace Mother, who did the same to Robb. His mother was clad in a simple grey gown with white fur trimming, no doubt hurriedly thrown on over her shift when she was awoken with Father. Though it was a chilly night, she bore it with admirable grace. All the same, there was obvious fear on his Mother's face, mirroring the feelings that crept in Robb's mind.

"I've told the septa to go and watch Sansa and Rickon, to free Jory for the search."

Father took hold of her hands then, and pulled them to his lips.

"Fear not, my love. We will find them, unharmed. I swear to you."

Mother closed her eyes and nodded, taking a deep breath herself. Father did not make oaths he didn't intend to keep, she knew better than anyone.

They moved ahead, but not before his mother took Robb by the hand.

"Be safe, please."

Her bright blue eyes, so like his own, shone with emotion. But she would not cry, she was too strong for that.

"I will, Mother. I'll make you proud."

She smiled at him, patting his cheek with a hand that was going white from the cold.

"You already have."

He beamed at her, embracing her one last time before hurrying to catch up with his Father in the guesthouse.

When he met up with them, they had stopped at the entrance to the hallway where Klutzer's room was. His was the farthest down the hall, past the rooms that ordinarily housed the griffon knight and the blue-robed magister. Even though the hour was late, Robb could see tendrils of light creeping under the door to his room. Beside him, Hal cursed.

"Seven fucking hells. Does the bugger ever sleep?"

A few of the men snickered at that, Robb included, but Father remained stony faced.

"I had hoped to catch him sleeping, no chance of bloodshed. It seems that plan must be abandoned. So be it. Tom, you and Harwin will open the doors go in first, we'll follow you from behind. Don't attack him, but make sure he knows he's outnumbered."

Fat Tom and Harwin shared a quick look, clearly not enthusiastic about being the first people to rush Deadeyes, but they had faith in their lord. As they took up their places on either side of the door, Robb whispered to Father.

"What if the door is barred?"

Father gave him a slight smile.

"Your mother made sure the maids removed the bars before we gave the strangers these rooms."

Robb smiled right back. Clever of Mother, as ever.

Father then turned to the men flanking the doors and nodded. They both closed their eyes and gave a prayer to the Old Gods, before turning and pushing open the door, rushing through the threshold with swords at the ready, the rest of their group behind them. As they parted for Father and Robb, he was finally to lay eyes upon the fearsome Klutzer.

He was sat on a fine oak desk on the left wall of the room, and only partially dressed, his long coat neatly folded on the bend with his tall hat laying atop it. He wore a doublet over a thin tunic, with twin-tailed comets and fat-armed crosses woven into the cloth. On his legs were the same leather trousers, and on his feet the same iron spiked boots he always wore. Resting against the wall next to him was his fine sword, mercifully sheathed. His desk was sparsely populated, only a few books and a small stack of papers, with one of the books open in front of the man, bound with dark leather and inscribed in gold along the sides much in the same way that all the possessions of the Imperials were, skulls and hammers and comets and crosses. Also on the desk were two of those strange wood and metal tubes Deadeyes wore on his person. Robb suspected they were weapons, based on the way Klutzer carried them.

That, and the fact that he had one pointed at Father's head. As he saw that he was outnumbered, Klutzer pulled it back, lazily resting his outstretched weapon hand on his shoulder. In his other hand he held a goblet filled with some pinkish red drink, which he raised to his lips and took a long draw from, though his icy blue eyes never left the Stark group.

"Ah, my lords of Stark. You seem to have caught me perusing the Deus Sigmar," Klutzer gestured towards the book with his goblet hand, and spoke with an unconcerned drawl, seeming to be utterly uncaring that several men now pointed swords at him, "I also had the foresight to bring a wineskin filled with my finest claret, from Bordeleaux."

Father stepped forward, eyes narrowed and voice frosty, not in the mood for jests.

"Two of my children have gone missing tonight. My son Bran, and my daughter Arya," He growled his words, like a wolf might.

Klutzer did not react to that strongly at all, merely raising an eyebrow.

"That is...most unfortunate. However, you must forgive me for failing to see how that concerns me."

Klutzer swirled the wine around in his goblet as Father silently glowered at him, which Deadeyes returned unflinchingly. For several moments neither made so much as a sound, before Father finally exhaled, almost imperceptibly. Not quietly enough, it seemed, for Klutzer gave a tiny grin of satisfaction at knowing he had won the little contest.

Father narrowed his eyes

"Your man in the blue robes, the magister. He has vanished too."

Klutzer's eyes widened at that, and the corners of his mouth curled into a near snarl.

"Ah. I see how this is my concern now," Almost under his breath Deadeyes muttered, "Morr take the stupid bastard."

Father nodded.

"And as you seemed to be the leader of your group, I thought y-"

"Yes, yes, you thought I ordered it, but since I did not you were about to insult my ability to control my men. Really, Lord Stark, I can read you like a book."

Father frowned at the man.

"In any case, we are dispatching a search party."

"As well you might. I shall inform Heinrich to join us, as his griffon wi-"

"You shall not. I won't have that beast anywhere near my children."

Robb was pleased that Father shared his concern about that feathery monster. Klutzer scoffed, but conceded.

"Very well. I must insist that I accompany you, at the very least."

Father looked wary of the notion, rather wisely in Robb's opinion, but dipped his head in acquiescence.

Robb did not dare allow himself to despair. They would find Bran and Arya.

Searching for two children in the dead of night was very difficult work, though in retrospect they probably should have known that. When they went out into the yard with Theon and Jon, Klutzer had hurried over to rouse the griffon knight, engaging in a short and apparently very pointed conversation. As much as Robb misliked the man, he could help but be a bit impressed with the way he approached the griffon without so much as a hint of fear. For its part, the monster seemed not bothered by his presence at all, casually watching him from the side of its colossal head. Though he roused, apparently Heinrich was ordered to remain where he was, for he merely leaned against a wall and waved at them as they left. Father made sure a few guardsmen kept on an eye on him. To be frank, Robb wasn't sure there was very much they could do to him, not with that beast.

As expected, Hullen already had their horses saddled and ready for them, and hurried to find a horse for Klutzer when directed. Despite the seriousness of their situation, Robb and Jon could hardly help from snorting when the black stallion that Theon fancied was brought out for Deadeyes, ignoring the pointed look Theon shot their way from on top of his pretty white mare.

Further questions were raised for them when Father called for a tracker as they were about to exit the North Gate that they may try to find some tracks to begin the search. Klutzer waved him off, and knelt over in the cold mud near the portcullis. When the Starks came over to see what he was inspecting, he had shone his torch upon the ground, revealing the source of his fascination. There were three tracks, two of which were small footprints, while the other was larger. By the freshness of them, they could not have been left more than a few hours before. That he could spot them in the low light, even with a full moon, was of itself shocking, not even counting his skill at arms. What was Deadeyes? What sort of man with a title like "Templar" has business wielding more weapons than a knight and was as fine a tracker as any hunter Robb had ever known? By the worried look he caught in Jon's eye, he felt much the same.

They had no time for worry, however, for Klutzer swiftly mounted his horse and rode off through the gate, the Stark party close on his heels.

Blessfully, Hullen had found no missing horses when he inspecting the stable, which meant his siblings and the missing stranger were on foot. Klutzer stuck to the side of the forest path, following the tracks, and finally pulled back on the reins a bit to ride parallel to the Stark party when he seemed satisfied that their quandary had not taken off into the woods.

"Well, Lord Stark, it seems that my man did not have a hand in your children's disappearance after all."

Father cocked an eyebrow at Deadeyes.

"What do you mean?"

Klutzer vaguely waved at the tracks.

"These larger tracks are on the center of the trail, while the smaller ones I assume belong to your issue stay close to the side. Almost as though they were following him, but did not want to be seen."

Theon interrupted them with a scoff.

"How do you bloody know that? Are you some sort of tracker?"

"Hmm, I suppose so. You could even call me a hunter."

The manner in which he said hunter made it seem like he was making a jest, but the smile he gave Theon chilled Robb to the core.

They rode on for a short time longer, which Robb spent quietly chatting with Jon and Theon, content with cautiously eying Klutzer as he did all the work with tracking. Not for the first time Robb found himself wishing the Forresters hadn't left the day before back to Ironrath. Father was much the same, but said nothing, keeping his gaze on the road, solid and unwavering. But finally, they heard something piercing the cold air of early morn. Something that nearly caused the panic he had forced down before to claw its way back up his gullet.

Faintly but clearly, they could make out the unmistakable clamor of steel on steel. At once they urged their steeds into a sprint, Robb praying they would not trip and break a leg in their haste. Behind them the men carrying the Stark banners belatedly followed, cursing quietly at the sudden change of pace. That did not matter to Robb at all, for his mind was racing faster than his horse was. All around them the foliage whipped past, the clattering of their hooves pounding in Robb's head, a thunderous companion to his tempestuous thoughts.

Let them be safe Gods please Gods please GodspleaseGodsplease

They moved so fast that when Bran and Arya broke forward from the underbrush they very nearly rode right past them, only stepping when Father let out a shout and yanked on the reins of his poor horse so hard Robb thought the thing might buck and throw. With one motion Father leaped off his horse, Robb and Jon close behind. Father caught both his children in a wide hug, hushing them as they both cried apologies and frantically babbled at him.

Arya was the first to become comprehensible, tugging at Father's sleeve.

"Father we have to save them! There were wildlings and a wizard and a direwolf but he got hit with an arrow and please we have to save them!"

Though she spoke nonsense, her eyes were filled with a very earnest fear, and Bran beside her nodded frantically. Father frowned, mirroring Robb's own thoughts, though before they could say anything Klutzer stepped before the children. He knelt before them, a curious expression on his face.

"What was that you said? A wizard?"

Why are you taking stock in the words of hysterical children, you bloody bastard? Robb thought uncharitably.

However, both children firmly nodded, and Bran was the next to speak.

"We were...following him," He said that with a bit of hesitation, and Arya bit her lip beside him, "We found him performing magic with a green man! They had a direwolf too, and we were to follow him back to Winterfell. He had us bound with vines, though. But then we got ambushed by some wildlings and a Night's Watch deserter! The man with the big sword cut the vines and fought them off, but they shot him with an arrow, so the Magister casted a spell and lightning shot from his hands!"

Klutzer tensed noticeably, though his face remained unreadable.

Father did not say anything in response to their fantastic tale, merely sharing a wary glance with Robb and Jon before handing off the children to them. Now it was silent in the woods, so apparently the imminent danger was gone. They both mounted with a sibling, Robb with Bran and Arya with Jon. Jon grinned on his horse as Arya attempted to continue her story, shushing her as she sat in front of him in the saddle. Bran was silent himself for a few heartbeats, before turning to Robb.

"Robb, you believe us? Right?"

He was clearly trying and failing to keep his tone from sounding pleading. Robb merely patted him on the shoulder.

"No doubt you saw something, little brother. Let's go see what, shall we?"

Bran blinked at him, his eyes shining with apprehension. All the same, he nodded and turned back to face forwards.

What they did find in the road span ahead was nothing short of shocking. Here and there corpses were strewn across the ground, smoking like they had just been roasted by a dragon. Their limbs were contorted in unnatural positions, as though their last moments had been spent having a fit.

And ahead stood the apparent perpetrators, blue robed Johann swaying like a drunkard as blood ran down his face. Beside him the man with the enormous sword from the tower stood, and Robb could see he indeed had an arrow sticking out of his left calf. They stood over a man in a black cloak, who was lying upon the ground against a tree, eyes wide with terror. Both men did not look exactly happy to see them when they turned to regard the Stark party, and both turned white at the sight of Klutzer, though Klaus managed a small bow.

"Good morning, my lords. Fine day for a stroll."

Robb only scowled deeper.

Smug fucking bugger