299 AC

Robb Stark

It had been a sennight since the Battle in the Blackwood Vale. The advance vanguard of the Vale's forces had arrived only late the previous evening. The van, under the command of Lord Gilwood Hunter, was made up of about six thousand cavalry. The rest of the horse and all the foot would arrive with the main force; roughly just less than a fortnight out.

But none of that was his concern. At the moment, it was his brother. He had been making an excellent recovery, but he still felt as if he failed. Failed as a lord, failed as a brother, and failed as a man. Oh all the other lords would clap him on the back and congratulate him on his victory, but he just felt the clap of every slain warrior and kin that had fallen.

But they had succeeded. The Mountain's forces had been decimated, their leader was killed, and the Siege of Raventree Hall was relieved. All in all, a man in his position should feel pride. At sixteen, he had called the banners of his father's kingdom, led them through campaign, planned and emerged victorious from a vicious battle, and had built goodwill among the Riverlords. But what did it all mean? Right now, all he could think of was his wife and child back in Winterfell. All he could think of was the image of the Mountain leering over his brother. All he could… Well, it wouldn't do to dwell on such things.

He had a job to do, and he'd do it. If not, his brother would surely clap him on the back of his neck for not continuing. Rising from his personal tent, he walked out, with two guards immediately taking his flanks.

"Cayn, send for the Northern lords, and invite the Vale lords to the command tent. We've much to discuss."

One of the guards nodded from the neck and went off to send word around the camp. He found himself in the said tent. The tent was wide and long, but not very tall. Enough room for most if not all of the lords, but the tall ones would be required to bend, and many would not be able to see the table. That's why only the most important lords would be around the table itself. Atop the table lie a massive map, stretching from Dorne to the Wall. Though not as detailed as the maps owned by the great Houses, details had been added on their campaign. He raised his head when he heard the flap open. In walked his own brother.

"Edwyle." He let out a relieved sigh. But Edwyle just gave him a look and walked closer to him, one of his arms still in a sling. "I've told the guards to give us a minute Robb."

"Another one of your lectures?" He tried to lighten the load. But the smack Edwyle gave him on the shoulder was enough to make him silent.

"I've heard from the soldiers and the camp followers; why are you so grim? We won, we drove back the Mountain that Rides and saved one of the Riverlands most powerful lords."

"Edwyle, enough of this, it's time to let the lords-"

"Robb, tell me, now. When have you ever kept something from me?"

"It's because I feel everything but victory! That's why! We won, but at what cost? And don't get me started on you. Every time I look at you, all I see you is your broken body on the ground, the Mountain looming right over you!"

Using his free hand, Edwyle rushed him and gripped his forearm. "Get a hold of yourself!" He shouted in a whispered tone. "You may be my brother; you are my lord and master. But no one but I am responsible for what happened. Do you not remember our lessons from father? From Ser Rodrik? Do not get caught up in what could have happened, it will lead you to madness. What happened, happened. What was lost, is lost. Who has lived, has lived. We won a great victory, through your leadership. Lead us now."

They were quiet as he absorbed his brother's words. He's right of course…he's always bloody right. He nodded silently but did not speak. His brother's grip on him lessened. "Ready for the lords?"

"Aye." He croaked out.

"Good, I'll lead them in."

In just a few moments, the Lords of the North were gathered within the tent. The present Riverlords and Vale Lords were also present.

To his immediate right was Edwyle. Next to him was Lords Galbart Glover, Jon Umber, Roose Bolton, Rickard Karstark, and Maege Mormont. The forces of House Dustin, Locke, Ryswell, Condon, and others were still off, conducting scouting and standing picket for the host. To the left of him stood the menagerie of River and Vale lords. Brynden Blackwood represented the Blackwoods, his father having been confirmed as present at Riverrun. Other representatives of the middle kingdom were present as well.

What he was truly focused on were the forces representing his cousin in the Eyrie. Lord Hunter was the senior-most Vale lord present. Though other experienced and young knights were coupled around him as well. Lord Hunter broke first.

"Lord Robb. Once again, on behalf of the Vale, I wish to congratulate you on a successful battle. I heard that it was glorious to behold."

Edwyle gave him a look and he privately sighed. "Many thanks my lord."

"But now, to the future my lords." The Greatjon called out.

"My lords, we've been regrouping and resting since the battle. Since that time, I've expected full reports. Tell me." He commented.

Ser Imry spoke first. He was the unofficial leader of the rivermen. Oh there were many higher-ranking lords, but it seemed that Ser Imry was among the few capable warriors. "Of the one hundred horsemen that I led for the initial attack, I only lost four. However, once we joined the battle-in-force, I lead the one-thousand strong force. My men finished the count yesterday; of the one thousand rivermen, three hundred and eighty-seven are dead, and two hundred and three are currently injured. That count is the count of those injured whom the healers expect to be able to fight again. As of now, our forces that participated number just over four hundred. Though I hope within a fortnight, we'll recover all those who were injured."

He appreciated the knight. He was straight forward and told it like it was. If only the other southerners could do it like that.

"Good. You must thank the men from my mother's kingdom for their sacrifice. Unfortunately Ser Imry, once we relieve Riverrun, command of the rivermen must be given to Ser Edmure. I shall put in a good word however."

The man simply nodded in thanks.

"Lord Umber, what is the count for the northmen?"

Just like the rivermen, he did not invest his entire force. He marched south with nearly thirty thousand men; they had fought a foe roughly four thousand strong. The reserve of rivermen had been placed under the command of Ser Stevron Frey. He did not dislike the man, but he was a Frey, and would not trust him yet in battle.

Much of the Northern host had not seen combat either. With only about six thousand of their force engaging.

"Lord Robb, I finished the count of the northmen this very morning. Of the six thousand troops that marched; seven hundred and sixty-one have joined with the Old Gods. One hundred and fifty-seven are currently injured, expected to make a full recovery."

He was disconcerted at the large difference between the losses of the northmen, and the rivermen. He'd have to grant them extra grog and ale rations in thanks.

Ser Imry spoke again. "In addition, Ser Harys Haigh, son and heir to Ser Leslyn Haigh died during the battle. Further, Ser Edmyn Charlton also died; brother of Ser Andrey Charlton."

He nodded. "Lord Umber, have any of our lords fallen?"

"Nay, mi' lord. The closest was your courageous brother-" Lord Umber looked respectfully at Edwyle. "-however the gods granted their mercy."

"Very well. The enemy's losses?"

Lord Galbart Glover spoke up at this. "True to the words of our scouts, the enemy's host number roughly four thousand men. It was utterly decimated. Ser Gregor Clegane was slain of course, and if there are any survivors, they number too small to make us worry for anything."

All around the room, the many lords and knights banged on the table in celebration.

"To the Young Wolf!" Cried Ser Imry.

"And the Prowling Wolf!" Smalljon Umber shouted as he raised Edwyle's good arm.

He waited until the celebrations wore off before continuing. "Of course my lords, we've done more than just rest since the battle, I've had scouts sent out as well." He nodded in thanks out of respect to Lord Bolton and Ser Patrek Mallister, acting Lord of Seagard.

"Lord Robb, I've compared the reports of my scouts to Lord Bolton's, it appears our scouts report the same thing." Ser Patrek started.

Lord Bolton stepped forward. There was a palpable tension as he spoke. The man was very unnerving. "Lord Tywin has not removed himself from Riverrun, it seems he wishes to use the castle as his quarters for the duration of his campaign. However, he has sent smaller hosts to secure surround castles, much like he sent Ser Gregor's force. Most importantly however, he's sent a larger force, roughly eight thousand to take, and hold, the fortress of Harrenhal."

The tent became more somber at the news.

"Who commands them?"

"Unknown, we were unable to get a spy in in time. However the most prominent banners imply that command is shared between Lord Andros of House Brax, Ser Forley of House Prester, and Ser Addam of House Marbrand."

The older lords and knights in the tents once more looked around in worry. All three men were experienced and good commanders. Ser Addam was most likely the least experienced, but combined, they most-surely posed a threat.

"Advise on our next move?" Robb questioned.

"Let's march on Riverrun now! While their men are out, we can capture the old lion, and end this war now!" Lord Umber cried out enthusiastically.

"I disagree! We should march south and east! Use our superior numbers to capture and destroy the small hosts that are sent out. Destroy the possibility of reinforcements from our rear." Ser Imry countered. Robb wondered if he advised that in part to retain command for longer.

He heard his brother next to him speak next. "My lords. My lords! We have yet to have our full forces at our backs yet. The possibilities of our plans will grow once we have the addition of the Vale forces. Let us set a picket to the north of Riverrun. Block any attempt to gain lands north of us but wait until we have our full force to attack."

Lords Umber and Karstark looked like they wished to call out craven, but after Edwyle's gallant efforts in the previous battle, they resorted to simply grunting in disapproval.

He leaned on the table as the lords around him began bickering, yelling, and arguing. He and Edwyle simply stood quietly. They were wolves, they did not yap about like a pack of hounds.

Finally, until he thought his headache could not handle it one more second, he decided on their plan. Looking up to Smalljon, the young man caught his eye and nodded in understanding. The man leaned over and was able to whisper in his father's ear. Within only a moment, the Greatjon nodded to Robb as well.

"Alright. ALRIGHT! Listen up ya cunts!"

The tent fell quiet. He put the palms of his hands on the table.

"All three ideas have merit. Yet it would be unwise to dedicate all our forces into a single one. So we shall do all three of them."

"My lord?" Lord Hunter questioned.

"With the addition of the Vale's van; our total number of northmen, rivermen, and valemen number roughly thirty-four thousand strong. When the main Vale force arrives, that will boost that number to about forty-six thousand."

All the lords now paid full attention to him. Only a year ago, such a thought would have terrified him. But now he had grown up, he had seen war, and he had tasted it.

"Lord Karstark, Lord Roger Ryswell, and Ser Patrek Mallister; you three shall take your men and set a picket just as my brother advises just north of Riverrun. Not so close as to see from the castle itself, but certainly so scouts can report it. Lord Roger and Ser Patrek, though you shall have command of your forces, Lord Karstark shall have command over the entire picket."

The eldest son of the troublesome Lord Ryswell moved to speak, but Robb cut him off. "I've made my decision." He moved on. Lord Karstark seemed impressed that he was able to waive off the beginning of an argument. "Further, you are to hold this picket at all costs. You may defend if attacked, and you may scout if needed, but you shall not go on the offensive."

"Edwyle, brother, you alongside of Lord Umber and Lady Mormont, shall work to track down and destroy the many small enemy hosts that have been sent into the heart of the Riverlands. You shall relieve sieges, destroy hosts, and liberate rivermen to rebuild their homes and join our forces. Lord Umber and Lady Mormont, in the same spirit, you shall have personal command over your own forces as Edwyle shall have over a portion of the Stark forces, but he shall have overall command."

Unlike the opposition from Lord Roger, both Lord Umber and Lady Mormont simply agreed. The Greatjon was even smiling at such a command.

"I, along with Lord Bolton and Lord Glover and their forces, along with the forces of Houses Dustin, Flint, and Locke, shall join with the majority of rivermen under Ser Imry and Ser Stevron to lay siege and seize the fortress of Harrenhal. It lies along the road to the south. If we can take it, not only will out eastern flank be covered, but we can finally connect to the forces of the King and the Stormlands."

"And where shall my forces be placed Lord Robb?" Lord Hunter questioned.

"You, along with the rest of the Vale shall remain in reserve."

The present valemen looked to protest before he raised his hand. "Worry not my lords. This plan is only dependent on the seizure of Harrenhal. Once done, this host shall regroup in its entirety and turn to face Lord Tywin once and for all. Until then, your foot shall be split evenly among the three commands and your horse shall take a central position, to be able to reinforce anyone of us at any time."

Lord Hunter still did not seem pleased, but at the mention of a short time, he and his men were mollified at the moment.

"Lord Hunter, I trust you can inform your soon-to-arrive Vale Lords of the current battle plan?"

"Aye, my lord."

"Good." He looked around the tent, making sure he looked to as many of the knights and lords he could. "My lords…you have two days. Ready the men, we move out at first light on the third day. Dismissed."

The entire tent soon emptied, including his brother. before he realized it, he found himself to be the only person in the spacious tent. Pouring a chalice of watered wine, he sipped before sitting on a leather folding chair.

And he thought. He thought about the previous battle. He thought of all the future ones. He thought of his brother…but most of all, he thought of his son, Samsyn. He can still remember the sound of his infant giggle. And he thought of Dacey. Dacey, the woman who could bring the entire North to its knees, just for him.

He broke from his daydreaming. And looking around the room, he sighed and gulped down the rest of the liquid before moving to leave.

"The day never ends." He muttered to himself.