Young Robb didn't get his wish, the cavalry host the Lord of Winterfell commanded wound up taking four days, instead of the young lord's initial demand of three, to depart Riverrun. The men and horses had been too tired after riding the long miles from the Twins in only ten days while also fighting two battles. The injured had needed tending to, exhausted chargers rested, the dead buried, gear mended or replaced, arms sharpened, armor cleaned, the readiness of men and steeds evaluated, the captured foe secured, the particulars of the coming campaign planned, allies continually consulted and cajoled, and the remnants of the Lannister host chivvied away from the intended march route along the River Road. 'Details, details, details,' Lohgun thought as he sat his garron with Robb and his lord's other companions to watch the last of the mounted troops ford the Red Fork and head east toward the Trident. But some sense of order had eventually swirled out of the fields of chaos around Riverrun. 'Oh, and a fucking army crawls on its belly too,' the Badger complained to himself, unhappy with how much steward-like work he'd had to muck through in his role as the unofficial quarter master Robb chose from his dedicated group of personal companions. 'They're all worthless baby lordlings, never knew a hard day's work or how to get some'in done.' The wildling yawned. He hadn't gotten much sleep making sure the now moving army had actually been ready to move.
"Tired already, Badger?" Jon Snow chirped.
'Well, almost all useless. A bastard, even a noble bastard, has to work harder than most, I suppose.' "Didn't see you when I got back to my sleeping pallet," Lohgun declared. He yawned again and stretched, cricking his neck. "I think the better question is how tired did you leave that serving wench you kept making eyes at."
Jon turned a little pink. "Noooo, nothing like that," the young man stuttered.
"You didn't make her … happy? She seemed cheery enough at dawn when she brought you a bundle of treats from the kitchen. Oh, if it's anything good, you're sharing with me, bub," said the Badger, voice turning instantly from teasing to serious.
His companion rolled his eyes. "Vella wanted to pet Ghost, so I took her to the pen."
"And earned a lusty reward," the wildling said with a leer and a wink.
"Gods," Jon snorted in disgust.
"What? You didn't? Have I taught you nothing in your fifteen years of life, boy!?" Lohgun asked in condemnation.
His young friend turned pink again. "We did kiss … a bit," he admitted shyly. "Her lips tasted like … honey."
"Aaaaand?" the wildling prompted.
"She took my hands and placed them under her blouse."
"Huzzah!" the Badger shouted in praise.
"What is it?" the Lord of Winterfell called out sharply over the clanking sound of the passing riders.
"Jon got himself a handful of teat last night!" the Lord of Tumbledown Tower answered without an ounce of discretion or dignity.
A tumult of cheers and laughter erupted from the companions. Many of the three hundred Mallister horse making up the day's rear guard joined the commotion by hollering and beating on their shields in approval. Ghost and Grey Wind howled. Jon Snow turned beet red.
As camp was being made at the end of the first day's ride for over four thousand lords, knights, mounted men-at-arms, simple bannermen, and freeriders, a warning horn blew from the troop patrolling the perimeter. Men stopped pitching tents, tending horses, or unloading gear and waited expectantly for next call to indicate friend or foe. Heads found closer to the edges of the slowly forming encampment peered out into the dusk in search of movement.
"Ta-da-da-da, dum! Ta-da-da-da, dum!" Friend in sight the horn called. Tensions eased, men returned to their duties.
A few minutes later an outrider came barreling up from out of the south, and made his way to the large tent beneath the giant direwolf banner of the Starks.
Pulling his mount to a stop, the young man in hardboiled leather snapped a salute and spoke to Robb who stood among several lords and a few of his ever present companions, "The Brackens, my Lord."
"How many of the bastards?" Tytos Blackwood asked unhappily.
"Two hundred, maybe a few more, Ser."
Robb grimaced and shot a quick look at the Lord of Raventree Hall before addressing the messenger. "Go hobble your horse and grab a meal, you've done well. Ser Wendel, Ser Harrion, go greet Lord Jonos and kindly bring him here, I would hear his news."
The sons of Northern Lords headed for their horses. The Lord of Winterfell turned to Lord Tytos. "My thanks for your banners holding the rear today, Lord Tytos. It is seldom a privilege to enter camp last. Are they settling well?"
Lord Tytos took the hint, "If my lord would excuse me, I would appreciate checking on them."
Robb smiled, he had remembered one of his mother's lessons on the Riverlands, the longstanding feud between Brackens and Blackwoods. "Please do, and let me know if your men lack anything. I look forward to riding with them on the morrow."
Lord Blackwood returned a smile at the unexpected sign of Robb's approval and bowed graciously before departing.
"Smoothly done, my lord," the Blackfish murmured softly to his grandnephew.
"But how best to meet this Blackwood? Outside may seem too anxious, yet awaiting him in my tent may make me arrogant for one of such tender years," the Lord of Winterfell drawled with amusement at himself.
Brynden smiled crookedly. "I think the Kingslayer found nothing tender about your blade, my lord. Myself, the Badger, and Grey Wind alongside yourself shall send House Bracken the proper message."
Robb thought it over a minute and nodded agreement.
'Oh smoothly done, you wily old trout,' Lohgun thought.
"Alright you hangers-on, rascals, and drunkards," the young lord announced to those gathered outside his tent. "Go eat and find some sheep to warm you tonight, we move out at dawn."
Lohgun and Brynden huddled with Robb during the time they waited for Lord Bracken to arrive. The boy's plan for the Red Stallion banner appeared sound enough.
A thick shouldered man in plate and mail, along with a squire, rode up to the open area in front of the pavilion. He pulled up a bit short, his horse snorting nervously. The direwolf's presence certainly spooked the man's horse and most likely disconcerted him as well.
"Lord Jonos, welcome," Robb declared. "Worry not," and he patted the wolf's head, "Grey Wind shan't bother you. I hope the Lannisters weren't a bother on your journey here either." The young lord snapped his fingers and pages ran out to help take his guests' mounts.
"Nay, Lord Stark. Only saw a few running in the distance, and them wanting to flee further. Your work, and I thank you for it and for saving Riverrun too. I gathered what men I could when word reached me of your victory." The big, powerful man slid easily out of his saddle and sketched a bow. "I'm eager to hear every word of it. T'is true the Kingslayer is captured?"
Robb nodded and said with wry amusement, "he'll never carry a blade again, unless a pair of hooks counts."
Jonos Bracken gave a fierce, evil sounding bark, "By the Gods that's good to hear. What the damned Lannisters and that Clegane have done to my family, my lands, my smallfolks," he snarled with all the anger so obviously consuming his soul. "You're riding to meet the Old Lion. I'd like to join you ramming a hot poker up his arse."
"You will have your vengeance Lord Bracken, one way or another. But come inside, sit with me, there is wine and food; I would hear your story if you can bear to share it."
The anger eased for a moment on Bracken's face, revealing a glimpse of the weariness and gloom within. "Lord Eddard raised you right. A more honorable man never rode the Seven Kingdoms … the lies the boy King, his whore Lannister Mother, and their lickspittles say about him." Lord Bracken hocked and spat. "That for the lot of them."
The mask wrapped around Robb's face. That would being too new and sore for the lad to share beyond a very, very few. Nevertheless he waived the way toward his tent and a guard pulled the flap back, bidding entry.
Jonos Bracken nodded his head and strode forward to it. "Ser Brynden," he acknowledged. "Your return home is most welcome in these dark times. I pray to the Seven we'll be seeing those friends of yours from the Vale."
"Dark times, indeed," Brynden repeated back to him, frowning with the memory of his niece Lysa's indifference to the plight of her own birthplace.
"And Ser Badger. I saw you against the Targaryens, one of Lord Eddard's valiant shadows."
Lohgun snickered at being given a knightly title.
"Not a 'Ser,' Lord Jonos. My father made Lohgun a lord," Robb pronounced.
Bracken raised his eyebrows in shock at a known wildling being made even the lowest of lordlings.
"A small lordship for a small man," added the Badger, sporting a wicked smile.
Once inside the tent and seated, the four men availed themselves of refreshments while the Lord of Stone Hedge slowly described the pillaging of his lands, raping and scattering of his smallfolk, and the burning of his seat by the Mountain. Jonos Bracken related his escape and constant flight through the Riverlands to avoid capture from the Lannister hordes, all the while slowly gathering a force together and occasionally striking back. He also relayed a story of the young Stormlander Lord Dondarrion and a disreputable band of hedge knights, broken men-at-arms, poachers, woodsmen and smallfolks also taking the war in backwoods and out of the way places against Westerlander foraging parties and patrols.
When at last he finished his horrific tale, receiving everyone's sympathy and praise for his bravery and sense of duty, Lord Jonos asked, "If I may be so bold, my Lord, now that you've twisted the Old Lion's tail, how do you aim to beard him? Word is he's above the Trident along the Green Fork."
"I aim to cage him," Robb answered confidently.
Lord Bracken's eyes flit between Robb and the Blackfish, a sly grin turning one corner of his mouth. "Pardon my saying, but you've only three, maybe four thousand horse here to go against Tywin Lannister's host. Am I right to guess that with her uncle here, Lady Lysa is arranging to unleash the falcons of the Vale against the Gods damned Westerlanders?"
Robb frowned. "Unfortunately my aunt has chosen to stay her hand and even let the Imp win his freedom from the Eyrie. We will see no succor from the east."
"Others take her!" Lord Jonos swore fervently.
"I agree, my Lord," said Brynden. "T'is why I left her service to join with Lady Catelyn and the strong arms of her northern lords. Fear not, we've more strength than you know with which to keep Tywin Lannister bottled above the Trident."
"Oh we'll hold the Ruby Ford against him," Robb stated fervently.
"Can't be done without the Vale," Bracken declared, agitated by a stratagem he thought hopeless. "Not against twenty five thousand, with double your horse. Go west, boy; raid Lannister lands, make his lords howl for a return. That's the way to draw him out of the Riverlands."
Robb's eyes narrowed sharply at being called 'boy,' but he held his temper. Lord Bracken, while valiant enough, had confirmed other's opinion of his being a prickly, officious lord; one better kept busy at arm's length than to be relied upon up close. "That tactic has merit," he said drily. "Karyl Vance and Marq Piper, with a few hundred riders between them, have already come to Riverrun. Lord Edmure intends to give them two hundred more mounted banners, and a hundred Tyroshi freeriders as well. In a few days, when they've refitted, they'll head for Golden Tooth and see what trouble they can make of themselves."
"A distraction worth only a gnat's piss!" the angry lord barked.
"Yes," said Lohgun, placidly. "But it at least sends a message to the smallfolk that the Lords of the Riverlands have returned and intend to protect them."
"But that won't kill the Lion."
"As I said, our army is bigger than it appears, Lord Jonos," said Brynden amiably enough. "In two days my nephew Edmure will head down the Red Fork to join us at the Trident. Depending on how many barges and boats he can scrounge up, we might see two thousand men-at-arms with him."
Jonos Bracken stopped complaining, but looked dubious.
Robb smiled. "What the Blackfish is failing to say is that another armada is already coming down the Blue Fork under the command of my own Lord Bolton."
The Lord of Stone Hedge's eyes narrowed. "How many?" he growled.
"Sixteen, maybe seventeen thousand," Brynden announced.
"Half are having to march. There weren't enough boats for everyone," the Badger truthfully interjected.
Lord Jonos' eyelids flittered as he did the math. A feral grin stretched itself out, showing yellowed teeth. "That would be enough. He'll have to attack or slowly starve, won't he?"
Robb's eyebrows waggled. "Oh he might get a few supply ships in through the Saltpans, but not enough or in time to matter much. Just in case, Lord Edmure's bringing a token with him that will surely force Tywin Lannister to fight."
The lord gave a quizzical look.
"His son, the Kingslayer," Robb explained.
"Losing his hands has made him quite mad," Brynden declared. "Tywin's son stares at his stumps all day long and mutters 'hellfire.' Almost sad, really," he said, without a hint of sorrow to his voice.
The three others gathered at the portable table set up inside the Winterfell pavilion laughed at their enemy's discomfort.
"When does Lord Bolton start to arrive at the ford?" asked Lord Bracken, returning to business.
"We think four days. A few in three," the Blackfish answered, knowing more about the rivers than the others, even if he had lived a decade or more in the Vale.
"What's stopping the Old Lion from getting there first? Not to say this isn't as clever a plan as the Warrior himself could devise. But …"
"Lord Dustin has been up in the Frey's territory with thirty five hundred men pretending to be the van of my Northern host. He carries banners for all my lords. Different day, different set of banners for our foe's scouts to see. What we want them to think they're seeing," Robb said pointedly.
"And yesterday," Lohgun added, "a raven came in from Willam, he was still leading them a merry chase. Tywin Lannister would need to leave today or maybe tomorrow to have a chance to grab the ford first. The Old Lion is through."
"It'll be a pleasure slaughtering the bloody fucks," Jonos announced.
Robb pursed his lips. "My Lord Bracken, I fear I have another task for you."
The man scowled, not liking those words in the least.
"There are still the dregs of the four thousand foemen who escaped Riverrun. It won't do letting them burn up the countryside. And after all they've done to you, a raid on the Westerlands is in order as well, down by the Gold Road. You could be my eyes down there too, strange things have been happening; from the Reach, Renly Baratheon has declared himself King. I wouldn't want to have a new army sneak up on me before the Old Lion is speared. Will you help me, Lord Bracken?"
The wildling could see the strong, blustery man grind his teeth at the idea of missing the big battle, but the plan did offer its own opportunities for revenge and loot. Jonos Bracken exhaled heavily. "On two conditions, my lord. First, I will need more men. My two hundred and nineteen are not enough for all you ask."
"Fair enough. I can give you two hundred Tully riders and a hundred Tyroshi freeriders," Robb responded, happy to continue splitting up the coin fighters into smaller and smaller units. "The Tyroshi worked for the Lannisters till they switched sides, possibly raided your own lands, can you work with them?"
The Lord of Stone Hedge pondered that question good and long. "Aye, it'll work. And my men will abide it or find my boot in their arses."
"And your other condition?" Brynden queried.
"Clegane. He did horrible things to my daughter. If you capture him, I get him. If you kill him, I want his head."
"We can live with that," the Badger pronounced. Then he grinned evilly, "but the Mountain won't."