*Sorry for the late update. I've had this written for a number of weeks; between some family issues, medical surprises, and otherwise busy schedule, I never really had a moment to update. The next chapter is nearly complete as well. Hope you like this chapter.

310 AC

Robb Stark

The life he lived now, was very different to the one years ago. In that time, he had led thousands of men in war. He had made camp in dirty lands, he had intimidated difficult lords, he had…he defeated the once mighty Tywin Lannister.

Now? Now he assisted his father in the rule of Winterfell, and the guardianship of the North. It was…different to his younger years. Though the threat of a sword in the belly was not as high, he still required the same skills he had matured. Leadership, thoughtfulness, mercy, a sense of justice, and a strong will were all necessary at the venture that he would eventually do on his own.

Hopefully that day was long from now.

But an average day saw him rise before daybreak, as his father had long done. A simple meal before sitting with his father in his solar for a number of hours. Going over ravens that had arrived in the night, reviewing cases to be heard in court later in the day, and otherwise running the largest kingdom in Westeros.

They would take a break for a midday meal. Here, unless there was some pressing matter or meeting, Robb would be free to stay with his young children. Occasionally, he would take Samsyn, his firstborn, out to hunt or personally help him in sparring.

On those busier days, he would take charge and ride out of Winterfell to dispense justice. Other times, he served as his father's personal representative to different houses to address certain problems.

Most recently was the ongoing investigation into the disappearance of his younger brother Rickon. The North, and the entire realm, knew him as Rickon of Skane. Now five-and-ten, Rickon was turning into a formidable warrior. Much like his Stark ancestors and most Northmen, he favored the heft and length of a greatsword. Though, he was still not as good as Robb or Edwyle. His wild nature granted him strength and stubbornness, but it also made him more vulnerable to tricks, over-extending, and quick to anger.

Both Rickon and Wil Umber had informed his father that it was wildlings that had kidnapped them. But his father, together with the Greatjon agreed that it was too exacting to be a simple kidnapping. Wildlings usually only took women. And there was no reason for them to know they held sons of two powerful lords. Both were convinced there was someone south of the wall that had wished to sow discourse in the kingdom.

As such, he had been recently dispatched to Last Hearth, to continue to assist in the investigation of the matter. Originally, he had intended to leave with Samsyn, to get him out and to see the rest of what he would one day lead. However, his brother's offer to ward young Samsyn had ended that. As such, Robb had instead asked Bran to join him north with only twenty riders of the Winterfell honor guard, and additional ten Hunters of the guard. He accepted the services of Daryn Hornwood and Karl Cassel to join him.

It had taken them nearly a fortnight to reach the castle of Last Hearth. The land around the castle was craggy, aye, but for a number of yards before the walls were bare, allowing the watchers to inspect any incoming threat, or party.

Thusly, it was no surprise when Bran pointed out a small party that was riding there way. "There Robb. No doubt the Umbers wish to welcome us."

Karl Cassel nodded. "Good eyes mi' lord. Them like the eyes of a raven they are."

Soon enough, a party of five riders reached them. Two were simply men-at-arms to guard the welcoming party. Another was a banner-bearer, holding the chained giant proudly. The last two were far more conspicuous. Both of them he recognized.

The first was a man as tall as the Smalljon. The second was shorter. His arm noticeably hanging uselessly by his side.

Harlow and Robard Umber. Second and third son of the Greatjon respectively. Harlow held the same build as his brother and father, yet his hair was far more fair then the two. A brighter strawberry than the darker mane of the other two. Robard followed in his father's steps in appearance. Robard had been named in honor of himself. The Smalljon and Harlow were born before him, but the Greatjon named his third son after himself after his own birth.

"Lord Robb!" Harlow held his hand up in greeting.

"Ha! Is that the, Harlow Umber I see? No, my eyes must be deceiving me!" Robb shouted back.

"Ya, ya, you bastard. Come! I'll escort you the rest of the way to the castle. My father has been restless since he heard of your travel!"

And so the party continued riding. No more than a number of minutes truly, but it was one of the few flatteries tolerated in the North. Much like the guest right, escorting visitors to the castle was a show of welcoming and good fortune.

Riding through the gates, Robb noticed the entire family and much of the household waiting in the courtyard. Of course to him it was no trouble, but he understood that the Northerners held House Stark in great love and respect. And so if this show of fealty was necessary, he was courteous enough to suffer it.

As their mounts slowed, he climbed off and stood before the Umbers of Last Hearth. The Umbers didn't hesitate to deeply bow before himself and Bran.

"Lord Robb, Last Hearth, and its pleasantries, are yours." The Greatjon reported.

"Please, rise." Robb told the courtyard at large. For a moment, no one spoke until finally, Robb and the Greatjon exploded into great laughter. "That was shite and ya know it!"

"Ha! The Young Wolf finally learns!" And so, even though Robb was many years his junior and Jon was a lord, the two embraced in a quick hug. Robb turned to the Smalljon.

"Jon! Ya bastard, get over here!" Again, the two embraced. Readying introductions, Robb took a step back and straightened up.

"Lord Umber, I am pleased to introduce my younger brother, Brandon. I hope you remember him from your time in Winterfell after the King's visit."

"Oh yes." Greatjon turned his gaze to Bran. "You're the lad that fell?"

Robb nearly sighed. Bran was publicly and physically fine, but Bran was deeply embarrassed over it. He had once described it as feeling useless as a Northman.

But before Robb could interfere, Bran smiled along. "Aye, Lord Umber."

Robb gestured to his other companions. "And you remember Daryn Hornwood and Karl Cassel?"

"Of course! Let me introduce my family. You know of Jon my heir, Harlow, and Robard. These two angels are my daughters, Larra and Jorelle."

Larra, the elder daughter, was a sturdy thing. If he remembered his lessons, he would describe her as an Alysanne Blackwood come again, only she was taller and she was muscled, heavily muscled. Her arms rivaling those of her brothers. She put the famous Brienne of Tarth to shame in terms of build. Despite being a young lass, she had a giant sword strapped to her back.

He chuckled as he once more turned to the Greatjon. "I once remember you tell me that you'd sooner kneel to the wildlings than put a blade in your daughters hands my lord."

Before Lord Umber responded, Robb noticed all the Umber sons start laughing, as well as Lord Jon's brothers and uncles.

"Aye…"

Said daughter, Larra, jumped in. "Aye, that was before I smacked him so hard he was seeing stars for a moon he was." She turned her attention to Bran. "And who is this handsome hunk of beef?"

At first, he thought her to be jesting.

Despite being a scion of House Stark and a Northman, Bran was far more wiry than his father and brothers. At one point, Edwyle had amusingly dubbed him as 'Brandon the Gaunt,' for his appearance. Although everyone knew him as Bran, Edwyle and mother called him by his full name.

But then, Larra boldly moved forward and started poking his younger brother. His chest, his arms, and going so far as to…cup his… Well, better left unsaid. Bran's face grew fiery, and he was at a loss of words.

"Larra! Go easy on the boy." Harlow Umber reprimanded.

She rolled her eyes at her brother before looking at Bran hungrily. "You'll be mine 'fore ya know it wolfy."

He heard Daryn and Karl snicker behind him. Bran still seemed mortified.

Robb turned his attention to the younger daughter, Jorelle. The only Umber in line to be wearing a dress. Though, that didn't take away from her figure. Robb was under the impression she had undertaken the duties as the unofficial Lady of Last Hearth. Lady Serena Umber, formally of House Liddle, had died on the birthing bed to Wil Umber.

Wil Umber is as shaggy as Rickon is. "Lord Robb. How's Rickon?"

"He is well Wil. He speaks of you often. With many fond memories."

Just then, a wicked gust of wind blew through the yard. Greatjon, in a rare moment of etiquette gestured to the great hall. "Come my lords, warm yourselves in my hall and partake in guest right. Mors here will see to it that your men are looked after."

After partaking in bread and salt, the Umbers and the Stark delegation continued to mingle for a decent amount of time in the great hall. After the final talks had finished however, Lady Jorelle excused herself, Robb's assumption proving correct, she left to prepare tonight's welcoming feast and other hosting issues.

Lord Umber had excused Wil, Robard, and Larra to the training yards. On their way out, Larra slapped Bran's arse while smirking. It had taken a long time for his face to lose the color of the Fourteen Flames of Valyria.

After, Lord Umber, Smalljon, Harlow, Robb, Bran, Karl, and Daryn were invited into the Lord's solar. The Greatjon taking the place at the head of his table.

"Many thanks for coming Lord Robb." The Greatjon expressed serious gratitude. "Since the event, I have had my sons and household guards begin questioning all the people that could come to mind. Quickly, they lost any idea. We simply have no idea who would benefit from this."

Harlow picked up where his father left off. "House Umber has no known enemies. We've had the occasional spat with House Karstark, but we're Northmen, we all have the occasional spat. Besides maybe the Lion's War, House Umber is not well-remembered south of the Neck."

"Which means they weren't after Wil." Robb stated the obvious.

The Umbers looked amongst themselves. The Smalljon informed Robb. "Our thoughts exactly. We believe that it was young Rickon that was the target, and that Wil was simply in the way."

Robb sunk into a chair that was next to him. He rubbed his chin in thought. "I think we can safely discount Dorne, the Crownlands, the Stormlands, and the Reach. Despite the Reach and Dorne having mixed feelings on the North due to the Rebellion and civil war, both are too far south to truly care. And none besides maybe House Martell even has the resources or the knowledge of wildlings to contact them and pay for their support."

"The Westerlands perhaps?" Harlow offered. "They certainly hold a grudge against the North for the Lion's War."

"Aye, nothing but truth there, but before we get to who…we have to ask why?"

"My lord?" Greatjon questioned.

"Regardless of whether or not it was Wil or Rickon they were after, both of them are the youngest in their respective house. If our mysterious enemy wanted to strike House Stark, why not go after its lord? Its heir?" He gestured to himself. "To strike at the youngest son, who will likely see the least influence, is odd."

Bran interjected for the first time. "It means either one of two things. Our enemy is daft enough to believe that striking at Rickon was effective. Or two…"

"Or two?"

"That they still have a plan that we cannot see." He replied darkly.

No one could respond to that.

"Nonetheless; I think it's safe to say that Dorne, the Crownlands, the Stormlands, the Reach, the Vale, and the Riverlands are not to blame."

"So either the Westerlands or the North." Harlow confirmed.

"Aye; the West has the motive…the North has the knowledge. Which makes me suspect someone from the North itself. While the Westerlands and House Lannister certainly are not our biggest supporters at the moment, a task like this… Someone would need to know how to deal with the wildings…they would need to know the geography."

"They would need to know the North itself." Greatjon ended.

"Precisely."

Robb left it at that. He would sooner expect House Umber to commit ceremonial suicide before betraying House Stark. However, Lord Umber held one advantage over Robb at the moment…He was a vassal. He knew the feelings of the vassals of the North, far better than a man of House Stark ever could.

He didn't have to wait long.

"There are very few in the North that hold a grudge against your House, Lord Robb."

"And we all know the first that comes to mind." Harlow muttered.

"Let's not leap to conclusions. Think, who else comes to mind?" Bran encouraged.

"…if you'll excuse words of my liege lord, it is well known throughout the North of Lady Dustin's…dislike of your Lord father." Lord Umber almost sounded…hesitant. Robb had a hunch. Under Jon Umber, the of House Umber was amongst, if not the most, vocal supporter of House Stark. Robb thought that maybe Lord Umber was worried that he would report to his father that the Greatjon was some how 'spreading' such knowledge. The Greatjon need have no worry over that. Robb was practical.

Smalljon spoke. "Perhaps the Karstarks? Another Greystark rebellion to put down?"

"…no." Robb responded after some thought. "Lord Karstark is ambitious, yes. But he is prideful. Far too prideful of a Northman; if he was to move against House Stark, he would do so publicly, not from the shadows. His get, even less so. Though he is still mollified over the loss of his son Eddard, Harrion and Torrhen are good men."

"Aye, you speak true. Perhaps Rickard is among the more ambitious lords of the North, he is still a Northerner. He was close friends with your Lord grandfather, Lord Rickard, as well as their third pal, Lord Cley Cerwyn." Harlow added.

"As for House Dustin, for what reason? If Lady Dustin wished to hurt my father, there are a number of ways for her to do so, without such expense and planning." Bran opined.

"Further, the heir to House Dustin, a good lad named Orvyn, fostered in Winterfell for many years…it just doesn't make sense at all."

"Which leaves the obvious."

"Aye. House Bolton."

"I am not simple-minded…I know of the history between the Boltons and my own House… But Lord Bolton is the last of his house. Domeric died many years ago. Roose has yet to remarry." Bran reported.

The Greatjon looked like he had seen a ghost. "But that doesn't mean Roose is the last of the Bolton blood."

"My lord?"

"He tries to keep it quiet. Many either forgot or have died off. I remember. He has a bastard."

"Lord Bolton has a bastard?"

"Aye. He doesn't permit him to stay in the Dreadfort from last I remember, but…I've heard things."

"Heard things? What things?"

"Words from Lord Karstark. His lands border the Boltons. Words of taken peasant women. Of mysterious deaths."

"And these were never investigated?" Robb sounded surprised.

"Oh they were. But it always led nowhere…or if it did…"

Smalljon continued for his father. "It would lead into Bolton land."

"And as an equal lord, you cannot enter another demesne for judicial purposes." Bran ended.

"Aye, Lord Brandon."

"My lord, are you telling me that you and Lord Karstark have noticed these happenings, and have yet to inform Winterfell? Perhaps House Karstark nor Umber may not enter lands, but House Stark certainly can."

The Greatjon looked at him in the eyes. "We have sent word." He deadpanned. "Lord Stark has been aware of these strange events."

Robb decided it was time for a break. And to send a raven back to Winterfell. He had quite a bit of words to share with his father at the moment.

"My lords…thank you for the information. It has been a long ride. Perhaps we may reconvene on the 'morrow."

All around the study, the various lords nodded in agreement.

"Lord Umber." The Greatjon turned his attention to Robb. "I'll have need of one of your ravens."

"Aye lad. I'll direct you to the maester."

While Robb waited for a response from Winterfell, he asked if the Umbers would join him to ride south. To inspect the land that bordered the Bolton lands. His original ride to Last Hearth saw he and his party travel along the Kingsroad. Past Tumbledown Tower, along the length of Long Lake. They turned eastward once they reached the northern edge of Long Lake, thereby riding the rest of the way to Last Hearth.

Now, they would ride southeast, towards the Last River. Then, once crossed, they would ride directly south. To around the Lonely Hills. All in all, about a sennight.

Robb wanted to know a lay of the land. Lord Umber was all to prepared to support him. Robb left Bran at Last Hearth with the Smalljon, Wil, Robard, and Jorelle.

Greatjon led Robb, Harlow, Karl, Daryn, and a small party of Umber and Stark men-at-arms south.

Over the course of a number of days, they reached the peak of the Lonely Hills.

The Greatjon used his arm to point out the important scenes before them. The Lonely Hills were not the tallest, but they still held a commanding view of the land around them.

"There, to the east, is a small village. Not large enough to warrant a true name, however, it is still known in my lands as the Lonely Vale. Named after the hills that command its view. Southeast, is the Dreadfort."

He allowed the silence to reign after that.

"And it is this village that sees most of these disappearances?"

"Lonely Vale does see a number, but they are still spread out as well. Reports from another village further east, along Last River as well."

"Very well. We'll camp here for the night. Then, we'll return to Last Hearth."

"My lord." Umber replied in confirmation.

Robb Stark

-•-

Son, first, a fatherly lesson. You must learn to control your anger in regards to ravens. You are a man now, but you are still my son. We will have words once you return to Winterfell on respect.

However, to address the concerned statement. Yes. I have been aware of the Bastard of Bolton for many years now. At first, it was just the whisper of a missing girl or a sister. You wish to know why nothing has been done? Because there has yet to be a connection between the Bastard and these mysterious happenings. I am not, I will not, issue arrest warrants against a bastard of one of my most important lords, simply on circumstantial evidence. Show me the connection between these crimes and this bastard, and I will personally ride to the Dreadfort demanding his head. But until such, the rest of the North will find such an action to be unacceptable.

That being said, you will not doubt have noticed the second message attached to this raven. Such scroll is a message written in my own hand, attached with my own seal. I hereby grant you full investigative authority over the kidnapping of Rickon and of these mysterious disappearances. With this warrant, you shall hold supreme authority and no one, even lords, may deny you service. To add to this, I hereby issue the following;

You are hereby named 'Lord Depute of the North.'

I know you shall not, you are a good man, but it would be remiss of me not to give a fatherly warning. Do not misuse such power.

-•-

Eddard Stark

Lord of Winterfell, Warden & Lord Paramount of the North

To whom it is concerned

-•-

The bearer of this warrant is Robb Stark. Said individual acts on the personal authority of the Lord of Winterfell, with full plenipotentiary and judicial authority.

Stated bearer shall be granted the full respect and assistance of those who are requested of. Such bearer is expected to be allowed to deal with their business without let or hindrance.

If any such man or woman, noble or smallfolk, wish to declare a petition of redress against the bearer of this warrant, they shall inform the Lord of Winterfell by raven or by issuing such a petition in the court of Winterfell.

This warrant, writ and sealed by the Lord of Winterfell, is hereby in effect, until such a time it is clear that such a warrant is no longer needed. All nobles will be informed of such a time when this warrant becomes invalid.

-•-

Eddard Stark

Lord of Winterfell, Warden & Lord Paramount of the North

To the Lords of the North

-•-

It is with great pleasure that I inform all my good lords and ladies, of a recent appointment. My son and heir, a man true and noble that many of you fought with has proven himself to be a good man and capable administrator.

To better prepare him for lordship, I hereby declare him as the Lord Depute of the North. With such a title comes immense duties and rights. As Lord Depute, Robb Stark will be empowered with supreme authority as one could expect from a Lord Paramount, short of the power of attainder. A command from my son shall be considered a command by myself.

-•-

Eddard Stark

Lord of Winterfell, Warden & Lord Paramount of the North