While Robb had been forced to go to Storm's End, the Northern Army had loyally carried on his orders of seizing the lightly fortified castles and mines of the Westerlands for plundering. Greatjon Umber, Lord of Last Hearth had been named acting Warden of the North in Robb's stead while he negotiated with Renly. The Greatjon had been highly honored by the appointment and championed his King, whom he had first nominated for the crown to begin with, without fail; capturing Ashemark, The Crag, Sarsfield, the Banefort and the Golden Tooth along with the mines of Castamere. Half the west had fallen to the Northmen by the time Renly had been murdered and Robb had won the allegiance of his army.
By the time Brienne of Tarth arrived in the West, the Northeners were garrisoned ten miles from Lannisport and Casterly Rock and morale was high amongst the Northeners. Brienne's white flag was first spotted by men from Winterfell, who honorably received the Lady of Tarth who showed them the grey wax seal of House Stark.
"I come with news from King Robb for Lord Umber." She declared to two of Ser Rodrik Cassel's own former squires.
"Is the King well?"
"He is of good health, but King Renly Baratheon has-…he has-…perished…murdered by Stannis Baratheon. I have orders for Lord Umber from the King. Urgent orders." Brienne repeated to the men who leapt to attention and led Brienne through the grey-tented camp towards the war council.
Lord Umber was holding council with Lady Maege Mormont of Bear Island, Ser Robett Glover of Deepwood Motte, Lord Rickard Karstark of Karhold, Ser Ryman Frey of the Twins and Lord Roose Bolton of the Dreadfort when Brienne entered the tent.
"My lords, my lady." Brienne greeted with a respectful bow of her head before stepping further into the tent to present the Greatjon with a sealed letter for his eyes only.
"I bring word from King Robb. His Grace was negotiating an alliance with King Renly Baratheon and joined King Renly at Storm's End when the traitor and murderer Stannis Baratheon besieged the castle. Stannis murdered Renly and almost killed King Robb-…"
"Was he injured?" barked Maege Mormont, placing her fists on the war table, only to receive a shake of the head from Brienne.
"The King is in good health. He captured Stannis and has won the allegiance of Renly's army. He marches on King's Landing and wishes for the Northen Army to proceed to Lannisport in an effort to draw Tywin Lannister back home."
"Will the King be joining us?" came a quiet but sarcastic voice, causing all in the tent to turn to Roose Bolton.
"Watch your tongue, Bolton. King Robb is trying to win a war across Seven Kingdoms. We will do as he commands." The Greatjon said gruffly, breaking the seal of the letter and beginning to read the letter that detailed Robb's betrothal to Margaery and his fear that the Freys would betray them, of Robb now being claimed as King of Westeros by over 100, 000 men. The Greatjon felt a sense of pride for Ned's boy, who had left seeking an alliance and had won the Iron Throne and the hand of the most beautiful girl in the Seven Kingdoms.
"There's more isn't there. Something you're not telling us." Roose Bolton said, looking from the Greatjon to Brienne. It was the Greatjon who spoke first, rising from his chair and folding Robb's letter.
"Aye, there's more. Our King is no longer just the King-in-the-North. He is being championed as King by Renly Baratheon's army. The time for Wolves is upon us, my lords and lady!" The Greatjon roared, earning a shocked look from the council.
"They want him to take the Iron Throne?" Robett asked with wide eyes.
"Aye, they do. And I can think of no better man to sit his royal arse on it than our King. We have our orders! Prepare to march on Lannisport. King Robb wants Tywin to come running onto our swords, we have to entice him further!" Jon's booming voice cleared the tent, leaving Brienne with the Greatjon who sobered very quickly.
"4000 men, the Freys number. This is a dangerous game we play." Lord Umber stated, unfolding Robb's letter once more.
"What do you think they will do?" Brienne asked, placing her calloused hands on her sword belt to observe the Greatjon.
"March home. Gods be damned who is King, they will claim King Robb broke his oaths…which he has, in truth…" the Greatjon sighed, running a hand through his rough beard.
"Very well, join me, Lady Brienne was it? Time to test their loyalties." The Greatjon strapped his sword to his waist before leading Brienne from the tent and marching through the camp. He commanded men to arm themselves and be prepared for any trouble and to spread word to only their fellow Northmen. By the time Lord Umber reached Ser Ryman's tent, only the Frey men were unarmed and loitering by their tents.
"Ser Ryman!" Jon barked, before marching into the tent to see the Heir to the Twins with his face between the breasts of a buxom camp follower who blushed and covered up at the sight of the fearsome Greatjon.
"Good gods, man. Are you not married?" barked Lord Umber with distaste, sending the woman scurrying from the tent and causing a red faced Ser Ryman to splutter for a moment.
"We were only together a half hour ago! How did you-…never mind, it matters not. I have news for you, Ser Ryman. King Robb has had to make a new agreement with the Tyrells…one to secure their alliance and his near one hundred thousand strong army, he is to wed Margaery Tyrell." The Greatjon said, causing Ser Ryman to nod for a moment before the slow-witted man slowly put two and two together.
"Hold on! But the boy owes us! He is to wed one of my sisters!" Ser Ryman stammered, standing up to have his large belly fall from his open tunic, causing a moment of awkward tension in the tent.
"He is your King, have respect" The Greatjon stated plainly.
"To the Seven Hells with respect! He is an oathbreaker!"
"Oh, and you stand by the oaths you made to your wife? Your oaths as a knight? Don't make me laugh." The Greatjon said causing Ser Ryman to go red and splutter angrily.
"House Frey withdraws from the Northern cause immediately!" Ser Ryman stated, buttoning his doublet furiously and walking towards Lord Umber who simply tilted his head at the smaller, wider man.
"It is not the Northern cause anymore. He will be King of all the Seven Kingdoms. Withdraw, and King Robb will destroy House Frey and The Twins once he is done with the Lannisters. Your numbers matter little to him now. Take your men and go, but will you really earn the ire of the new King while he still settles his matters across the Kingdoms?"
"Fuck Robb Stark! And fuck you!" Ryman spat, taking two attempts to draw his sword and idiotically challenge the Greatjon to a duel. Perhaps it was the blood pumping through him from the camp follower's breasts, perhaps Ryman was pushed to his limit by Greatjon's japes, or perhaps the man was simply as stupid as he looked when he tried to run Lord Umber through with his sword only to have Jon duck out of the tent and into the camp and eyes of the soldiers. Ryman blindly charged out, swinging his sword and still half dressed.
"Stand down!" the Greatjon roared, drawing his own sword as Ryman circled him blindly.
"The King does not wish to harm you or your men, but I will do so if you continue to slander him and belligerently challenge me."
"He is an oathbreaker! A fool of a boy! And he will rue the day he crossed House Frey! Men of the Twins! Attack the Northmen!" Ryman roared, causing the drunk and sleeping men of the Twins throughout the camp to try and rise, only for the well-prepared Northmen to quickly incapacitate and capture their former allies. Some of the Freys such as Black Walder, Ser Ryman's son, was quick enough to kill four of the Northmen who tried to place him in shackles before he was feathered with over a dozen arrows from Mormont bowmen.
"Ser Ryman, stand down!" the Greatjon called again as Ryman wildly stared around him to see his father's men being captured or butchered by the Stark force.
"NO! HE BROKE HIS OATH! HE BROKE HIS OATH!" Ryman insisted, charging forward to engage the Greatjon and haphazardly smashing his sword down on the Greatjon's over and over again only for Jon to push the other man slightly with his elbow before swinging his greatsword once with a single hand, sending the blade halfway through Ryman's torso and causing him to scream in horrid pain as his sword clattered to the ground.
"Ngh…I-… Ryman gurgled, trying to raise his hands to his chest before Lord Umber withdrew his sword and caused Ryman to collapse. The surviving Frey men surrendered upon the death of their commander and his son, throwing their swords down bitterly to be taken captive by the Northmen.
"I see you are keeping things from us, Lord Umber." Roose Bolton stated a little while later as he stood with the Greatjon and Lady Mormont watching an envoy ride to Riverrun to inform Edmure Tully of House Frey's betrayal.
"Only what I needed to keep our men alive, Bolton." The Greatjon growled, turning to tower over the Leech Lord.
"Our King will soon return to us with one hundred thousand men. Ser Ryman was a fool, we all knew it, instead of marching home where he could have sued for peace and received a boon from the King, he attacked me and ordered his own men to turn on the Northmen. Ser Helman must secure the Twins at once until King Robb arrives. Word cannot escape this camp that the Frey force has turned their cloak. We will begin a slow march for Lannisport until the King can arrive. Ready your troops." The Greatjon ordered, causing Maege to nod and turn on her heel for the camp while Roose Bolton lingered to hold Lord Umber's gaze for a while.
"And what if King Robb is killed at King's Landing surrounded by his new southern army?" Roose asked quietly, causing Lord Umber to growl and take a step towards him.
"Then we fight to place his brothers on the Throne in his stead. We are Stark men, and I will kneel to no other. Ready your men." The Greatjon repeated before returning to camp and leaving Roose Bolton alone.
"Stark men." He scoffed quietly, before clasping his hands behind his back to look out at the orange sunset of the Westerlands on the edge of camp, one of his Lieutenants crept up quietly to join him.
"Locke. I have a task for you. Raise four men to ride out in the night with you."
"For where, my lord?" rasped the weedy but sadistic looking Locke.
"Harrenhal." Roose said simply, turning to look at Locke with his cold, cruel eyes before returning to camp as well.
"I do not trust him." The Greatjon said in his tent to Robett Glover, Ser Wylis Manderly and Lady Maege Mormont.
"As you rightly shouldn't." Maege said, leaning back in her chair to pick her teeth after having enjoyed a hunk of roasted boar.
"It would be foolish to send him anywhere where he can cause trouble…but to keep him here is a risk as well." The Greatjon sighed, pouring himself a large flagon of ale.
"The King intends to march North, does he not?" Ser Robett asked the council at large as he wiped his hands on a rag.
"Aye. The Lannisters first, and then the Ironborn scum holding our homes." The Greatjon sighed, scratching his rough beard before consuming his ale in a single gulp, an almighty belch followed that earned a chuckle from the Northmen.
"We could make use of him until the King returns…we could send him North." Ser Wylis suggested through a mouthful of boar.
"North?" Maege asked incredulously "To his death? He'll know what we are doing."
"No. Not to cross the Moat. To garrison before it, blockade supplies from the south and bleed them until the rest of the army can arrive. It would be logical." Ser Wylis said, stopping to eat long enough to explain his plan.
"Now there's a thought…" The Greatjon said with a slow nod of his head.
The next day as the main Northern host continued west towards Lannisport, Lord Roose Bolton rode at the fore of a host comprised of Bolton, Dustin and Ryswell men for the North. The Leech Lord had been clearly angered by the order, but had not the power nor the backing to defy the Greatjon, nor any reason to deny that the plan made sense. The Moat was preventing the Northmen from returning home, and Bolton himself wanted to return to the Dreadfort when this war was done.
The Greatjon, Lady Maege, Ser Wylis and Ser Robett were at the head of the main host sharing a chuckle amongst themselves for having rid themselves of Lord Roose Bolton.
Author's Note: Just wanted to show what was happening with his Northmen while he was marching on King's Landing :)
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