Robb V

The completion of the Wolfsroad took place without any issue. Robb, Jon, Theon, an escort of thirty men, twelve servants, five cooks, and ten wagons filled with enough food, drink, and other supplies to satisfy a small army for at least one night, and enough coin to pay each of the workers their due, traveled for four days along the newly laid road. They came to a halt at a place in the road where there was a ten foot gap that had yet to be laid with stone, roughly halfway between Winterfell and Deepwood Motte.

A hundred workers idled in the clearing that had been created around the gap, waiting for their liege lords to come to honor the completion of their months of labor. Robb had put the idle workers and servants to work, unloading tables and benches for men to sit at, and then setting the tables with utensils, plates, and cups, while the cooks built fire pits and began to cook the food. Lord Galbart Glover came shortly after with his own escort of men, including his brother Robett and his ward Larence Snow, the bastard son of Halys Hornwood.

Robb made a speech, one he had prepared days in advance, thanking the workers for all their hard work and rejoicing in the strengthening of the ties that connected House Glover and House Stark. The last of the stone was laid, accompanied by a loud cheer from the men. He then bade them all to eat and drink in celebration. The workers ate like starving men and drank such that each of them woke the next day with a pounding head. The next morning he distributed the pay to the workers, half of whom followed his party east along the Wolfsroad, while the rest followed Lord Glover west.

For the First Keep he had kept his promise of using only workers from the North to do the majority of the work. The stone and the stonemasons came from the Mountain Clans. The wood was purchased from the various lumber camps around Winterfell. Carpenters were brought in from as far north as Last Hearth to as far south as Barrowton. He hired weavers from White Harbor to make tapestries to adorn the walls, and looked to the Sheepshead Hills for new bedding.

The decision with the lichyard had been made after conversation with, of all people, Old Nan. She told him stories of the curses placed on the barrows in the Barrowlands, where the Barrow Kings of old were buried. She told him stories of the ghosts of the Kings of Winter rising from the crypts when the swords were removed from their stone hands. She told him stories of the shades that haunted the cellars of the Dreadfort, unable to rest peacefully in the afterlife because of the horrors they endured in their final moments. And then she told him that servants of kings weren't important enough to curse their burial grounds. They lived plain lives and died plain deaths, and then they passed plainly on.

He had the entire lichyard excavated. He was going to build a big pyre and burn any remains they found, but they didn't find any remains. They dug as deep as Hodor was tall, a full seven feet, and they didn't even find a single bone. It was common knowledge that the cold helped preserve things, like dead bodies, and the thought was that the cold grounds of the North would have preserved at least some of the remains but Master Luwin speculated that the hot springs that sat below Winterfell must have kept the ground warmer than they initially realized and even the bones had decomposed.

The removed soil was put back where it belonged. He had stone paths put in place, connecting the First Keep to the other passageways that led to the crypts and the rest of the castle. In the center of the now former lichyard he planted a willow sapling. In a few decades it would provide shade from the sun during the summer years and protect from the harsh snows of winter. He envisioned ten years from now placing a stone bench beneath its branches, and sitting there with his own son as he told him stories.

The restoration of the First Keep and the excavation of the lichyard had taken more of his money from the dowry than expected and he found he had to dip into the Winterfell vaults to complete his expansion of the glass gardens, but thought the price well worth it. To make things easier for Mikken he had requested, and been granted, the use of the blacksmith of House Cerywn, whose castle was a little over a half day's ride to the south. It was decided, after conversation with Maester Luwin, to make the glass gardens into an L-shape, and have the new expansion run perpendicular to the current structure, along the western wall that surrounded the godswood. They had to cut down a few of the sentinels and soldier pines that stood where they wanted to put the new expansion.

There were glasscrafters in King's Landing, Dorne, and the Reach but the glasscrafter they ended up hiring came from Myr, a process that was handled by Lord Manderly, who had extensive dealings with the Free Cities. The expert glasscrafter who came, accompanied by servants, apprentices, and a large kiln on wheels that was pulled by two burly oxen, didn't speak a word of the Common Tongue. They had much more success with the servants and apprentices, who spoke in heavy accents, half of them Myrish and the rest a mixture of the other Free Cities. The language of the glass crafter, and the main language of everyone he brought with him, was bastard dialects of High Valyrian, a language Robb wasn't versed in. Surprisingly, Jon seemed to have a far better understanding of what the glasscrafter was saying than anyone else in Winterfell, including Maester Luwin.

"I can't explain it," Jon said, when prodded about his understanding of High Valyrian, when the only other language they had been taught growing up was the Old Tongue of the First Men. "I did study it some from tomes in the library but this is my first time hearing it spoken. Their words sound off, like they are speaking with a heavy accent compared to how I know the words should be spoken."

Robb ended up hiring one of the elder apprentices, a male teenager from Myr with olive skin and dark hair who was two years younger than Robb himself, to be the glasscrafter of Winterfell. The lad would need to finish his apprenticeship, which was still about two to three years away, but when finished he would come back to Winterfell to live as their glasscrafter. Robb would provide him with the materials needed to complete the work, including a giant kiln, and allow him to make glass for anyone who came with coin, while getting a small cut of the profit. At least that was what the contract Robb had signed said. He paid a few gold coins from the Winterfell vaults to facilitate the agreement, and stored his copy of the contract in a trunk in the vault, to make sure nothing would happen for it before it came time for it to be fulfilled.

The glass planes were crafted and carefully locked into place in the new frame. The section of the glass gardens that separated the old section from the new were removed, and the glass gardens were now almost double in size.

With the completion of the renovations on the First Keep and the expansion of the glass gardens, the tradesmen that had been occupying Winterfell for the past four months were gone, their work completed and Robb's dowry purse left empty. Yet the two projects he had set for himself, to build the strength of the Starks, like his father had been doing for the past sixteen years, were done and he felt himself swell with pride.

Unfortunately, he didn't have any downtime because shortly after the last tradesmen left, they had to start preparing for the Harvest Feast. A celebration he had extended into a two day affair, in order to hold a melee with a small purse of two hundred dragons for the winner. An entire tourney was too much but melees had been held in the north many times, including the infamous one held at Last Hearth over a hundred years ago where eighteen participants died. The winnings weren't enough to draw anyone of note to participate, but to the small folk that could be enough to last a man for the rest of his life if he was smart about it. He was hoping enough men would enter it that he could find some hidden talent to offer a place in the house guards.

An area just outside Wintertown had been fenced in to hold the melee, with stands going up to seat the few thousand spectators. The servants and guards from Winterfell would be allowed to watch from the walls. His mother, who had hosted multiple Harvest Feast for the North, handled most of the heavy lifting in preparing Winterfell itself for the celebration, including the two dinners of the feast. She had arrived back from Riverrun eleven days prior, after the passing of her father. When the news reached of Lord Hoster Tully passing, Robb had worn black for a week to mourn his grandfather.

In the preparation of the Harvest Feast Wynafryd shadowed his mother's every move, so that whenever the responsibility for such things passed to her she would be ready.

Some of the nobles had already started arriving. As his father had done in year's past, Robb met with them each individually in an empty Great Hall with his mother and Wynafryd on one side, and Ser Rodrik and Maester Luwin on the other. It was from here that he greeted each of the lords as they arrived at Winterfell, to hear the real reason they came all this way.

Lady Maege Mormont had arrived with her eldest daughter Dacey and thirty men-at-arms three days before the feast. She noted that the wildlings were more active than ever, having dealt with a handful of raids within the last few months, and that she needed more ships to patrol the Bay of Ice. She also needed sailors and fighters to man those ships because Bear Island didn't have the population to. Lady Maege also hinted that she wanted to set up a betrothal between Bran and either Jorelle or Lyanna, whichever of her two younger daughters the Starks would prefer.

Lord Galbart Glover had marched with the Mormonts from Deepwood Motte. He had with him his brother Robett, his goodsister Sybelle Locke, and his three year old nephew Gawen, as well as fifty men-at-arms. With winter approaching, he wanted to increase the amount of game his hunters were able to kill to increase their stores. On top of that Lord Galbart believed there was illegal logging taking place within the Wolfswood and asked that Winterfell provide more patrols. He also discussed the possibility of fostering his nephew at Winterfell in a few years, since Gawen was close in age with Rickon and was likely to be named Galbart's heir.

The day after the Mormonts and Glovers arrived saw the arrival of Lord Wyman Manderly. He came with his son and Robb's goodfather Ser Wylis, his other son Ser Wendel, Wylis's wife and Robb's goodmother Leona Woolfield, several of his pledged lords like Lord Ondrew Locke of Oldcastle, two hundred knights and men-at-arms, a troupe of musicians, and even a juggler. Lord Manderly wondered about giving the White Tower, the abandoned keep that sat a few days north of White Harbor along the western banks of the White Knife, to his son Wendel since its lands and people already belonged to House Manderly. Lord Wyman also thought, since Lord Eddard Stark was the Hand of the King, that he should be able to start minting silver. That would greatly increase the wealth of the North and, more specifically, House Manderly.

Lord Hornwood arrived the following day, one day before the feast, with his wife Donella Manderly, his son Daryn, and twenty men-at-arms. His concern was that he believed there was an aggressive wolf pack roaming his lands because his smallfolk kept turning up dead with most of their flesh missing from their bodies, as if torn at by a pack of hungry animals. He wanted hunters and trackers from Winterfell to join his men in hunting down this wolf pack.

Hours after the Hornwoods arrived Lord Medger Cerwyn came with his two children, his daughter Jonelle and his son Cley, and fifteen lancers. Lord Cerwyn didn't have to travel a far distance to attend the feast, so there was no other reason for his coming besides being so close. Although he broached the subject about betrothing Arya to his son and heir. He was disappointed to hear that there was already a promise with King Robert for her betrothal to Prince Tommen.

Some of the requests Robb was able to grant. He would send Winterfell's best hounds and trackers back with Lord Hornwood to assist in hunting down the wolf pack. He would ask Hallis to send groups of guards to search the Wolfswood from the coasts and back, to see what they found. Others, like providing the Mormonts with more longships, allowing the Manderlys to mint silver, and increasing the amount of game hunted for the Glovers, he would need to speak with his father about because Eddard Stark was still their lord.

Robb awoke the day of the feast itself with a grin on his face. There were two more nobles coming with their families and they were both expected to arrive today. The first were the Umbers of Last Hearth, and the second were his foster family, the Karstarks of Karhold. It had been a year since he had last seen any of the Karstarks, as none had made the trip for his wedding, so it would be good to see them again.

He noticed the bed next to him was empty. Wynafryd had come down with a sickness yesterday morning, but had recovered in time to join him in greeting the lords. It looked like whatever had ailed her persisted another day.

Getting ready for the day, Robb moved to Theon's room, which was located close to his own. Today was not just the day of the Harvest Feast, it was also Theon's nameday. He knocked on the door and after a moment it was opened by Theon, who looked a little out of it. No doubt he had spent the night in Wintertown at one of the brothels in celebration.

"It's early," Theon groused upon seeing Robb's grinning face.

"I have something for you," Robb said, holding out a cloth wrapped item. "Careful with it, it's sharp."

Theon took the item from him and looked it over. He unwrapped the cloth and found himself looking at an ax. It was a one handed ax with a curved blade on one end of the steel head, and a sharp point on the other. Carved into the head were two images, a kraken on one side and a direwolf on the other. The handle was wrapped in black leather with a leather strap on the bottom.

"It's a battle ax used by ironborn reavers," Robb explained.

"It's gorgeous," Theon murmured while examining it. "Some of Mikken's best work."

Theon had some experience wielding a one handed ax, as it was a weapon Ser Rodrik had insisted on some training in. The old master-at-arms often said that in the heat of battle, sometimes your weapon gets knocked out of your hand and you don't always have the time to get it back or find a similar one. So you had to make do by grabbing the closest weapon to you. Ser Rodrik made sure that they knew how to hold a multitude of weapons, as well as the basics on how to properly attack and defend with it. They were also taught how to grapple and wrestle, should they find themselves completely devoid of weapons.

Robb cleared his throat. "I know it must have been hard, Jon and I leaving for five years to foster and leaving you here. I just wanted to let you know that even though I was gone for five years, I still consider you like a brother to me. That's why both the Greyjoy kraken and the Stark direwolf are carved into the head. Because you're as much a Stark as you are a Greyjoy."

Theon looked at him with an expression Robb had never seen him wear before. Unless it was a witty joke, Theon wasn't the best with words so instead he pulled Robb into a tight hug to show how much the gift meant to him.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, but we should probably end the hug before-"

"Does Wynafryd know about this?" a teasing voice asked.

Before Jon found out.

The Umber progression entered the yard shortly after breakfast, led by Jon Umber himself. The towering man was accompanied by his sons Jon and Hoarfrost, his youngest daughter Elna, his brother Rickar, and forty men-at-arms. Everyone in the family was tall, as even Elna, who was two years younger than Robb, was of height with him. The large stature was the reason for Jon Umber being known as Greatjon.

Robb walked into the Great Hall to see that only Ser Rodrik sat on the dais that overlooked the hall. Turning to the guards by the door, Robb saw that Hallis was one of them.

"Where are the others?" Robb asked, worry creeping into his voice.

"They are in Maester Luwin's rooms," Hallis answered. "Lady Catelyn told me it is not urgent, and to continue with the greetings."

Whatever sickness Wynafryd was dealing with must still be lingering. Why his mother was with her and Maester Luwin he was unsure, but he dismissed the thoughts from his mind. If they said it was not urgent, he would take them at their word and greet the Greatjon.

"Hallis, send for Jon and Theon and have them join me here before the Greatjon does."

Hallis quickly left the room. No doubt Jon was out there in the yard greeting his former foster family and he had to imagine Theon would be nearby as well.

They both entered the hall with Hallis in tow. He gestured to the seats to his right, where Wynafryd and his mother had been sitting the previous few days.

"I find myself in need of advisors for today," Robb said.

They took the seats, Jon the one next to Robb and Theon the one over. Robb gave the okay to Hallis and in a few moments the Greatjon strode into the hall, his son and heir, known as Smalljon, following him.

Despite being an accomplished swordsman himself, Ned Stark often proclaimed Greatjon the best fighter in the North, not that the North regularly had tourneys and melees like the south for the men to lock swords and show their skills. The Greatjon's size alone gave him a great advantage, as Robb thought there could only be a few men in all the realm who could surpass the man in size. Even the man's own son, who was a giant of a man himself, stopped a few inches short of his father.

"Little Robb, all grown up! Ha!" Greatjon boomed as he came to a stop before them.

"Lord Umber, Winterfell bids you welcome!"

"Bah, pleasantries are for old maids and southern lords. You're the Stark in Winterfell?"

"Aye, I am."

"The Wall is a fucking sieve. The amount of wildlings that have been invading my lands is the worst I've seen in all my years. Worst my uncles have seen too."

"Lady Mormont said the same," Robb admitted.

"Something needs to be done. As the Stark in Winterfell, your duty is to defend the North."

"Have you spoken with Lord Commander Mormont?" Ser Rodrik asked. "Is there nothing the Night's Watch can do?"

"The Old Bear can't do anything. The Night's Watch is a shell of itself. They don't have the man power to patrol the Wall in full, and some wildlings have the balls to climb the fucking thing."

"Greatjon speaks truly," Jon said. "I saw for myself the state of the Night's Watch."

"Can't exactly force people to commit crimes," Theon said in an almost mocking tone.

Greatjon glared at Theon, cowering the Greyjoy heir into silence. "The Starks and Umbers have led armies beyond the Wall before, to bloody the wildlings when they get too bold. I think it's time we do so again."

Robb furrowed his brows as he contemplated the idea. He did recall such tales from his history lessons with Maester Luwin. They probably wouldn't even need that many men to impose their will on the wildlings, ten thousand would likely be more than enough. Still, marching men north and killing thousands of wildlings seemed like it should be a last resort.

"Leading men into battle is a serious thing, and one we should hold off on while other options remain to us. I know my father has sent men and supplies to the Wall in his duties as Hand, and I will do what I can as well. I shall let it be known that twenty-five silver stags will be given to the family of any man who joins the Watch."

Greatjon didn't look thrilled that his proposal to march a force beyond the Wall to deal with the wildlings was being put to the wayside.

"Greybeards and cripples, that's what you send the Watch."

The Greatjon left in a huff. Rather than follow his father, Smalljon took a step toward the table and looked at Jon before looking at Robb.

"Did your brother ever tell you what we called him at Last Hearth?" Smalljon asked with a grin. Jon made a sound of distress.

"He didn't say anything to me," Robb answered. "Theon?"

"No he did not," Theon said, leaning forward eagerly. No doubt he was thinking of the teasing they had received from Jon earlier after he had walked in on them hugging.

"Please don't," Jon murmured, his cheeks turning red.

"Smallest Jon," Smalljon said before cackling with laughter.

Robb and Theon shared a look before bursting into laughter themselves. Even Ser Rodrik couldn't help but guffaw. Jon sank lower in his chair.

"Is mocking me the only reason you joined your father in here?" Jon asked

"Of course it was. I'll see you at the feast Lord Robb, Smallest Jon."

Smalljon bowed his head and left the Great Hall.

Twenty minutes later, when it was announced that Lord Karstark had arrived, Theon was still quietly chuckling to himself. While Robb stayed in the Great Keep to welcome his foster father and hear whatever concerns he wished to bring to him, Hallis relayed the information of the new arrivals. Rickard Karstark had brought all three of his sons, Harrion, Torrhen, and Eddard, his daughter Alys, and thirty men-at-arms.

Lord Rickard Karstark was escorted into the Great Hall by one of the guards. He was gaunt and tall, with a thick gray beard and hair loose past his shoulders. Robb knew the man to be stern and vengeful, and had a love for his children that outweighed everything else.

"Lord Karstark, it warms my heart to see you again," Robb greeted.

"Aye lad, it is good to see you too. It seems like just yesterday you were sparring with my sons in the yards at Karhold, and yet a year has passed since those days."

"Great days they were," Robb said with a smile. "Know that Winterfell is open to you and yours in your time here."

"Thank you foster son, but I have come for more than just the hospitality of your halls. Karhold is a strong castle and its people stronger, but our economy is isolated and winters have always been rough on us. I want to build a trading port at the mouth of The Grey. I want to build ships to trade with White Harbor, Gulltown, King's Landing, even Braavos."

The Grey was a stream that flowed below the walls of Karhold and emptied out into the shivering sea. Like most of the North, the Karstarks main sources of trade would be wood and furs, but they were so far north and so far from the Kingsroad, that few traders actually made their way there, even with the new road leading to it from Last Hearth. If they wanted any hope of increasing trade, it would have to be through a port.

He just wondered how this would affect the relationship with the Manderlys. White Harbor was the central trading hub of the North because of its ports. In fact Robb couldn't recall if any of his other vassals had anything besides some fishing piers. That gave house Manderly a lot of power and a lot of wealth. He would ask Wynafryd how she thought her father would greet this news.

"A great and worthy goal to better your house" Robb stated. There had to be more to this. What Rickard Karstark wanted to do, he didn't need to discuss with Robb.

"Thank you. It's just," Lord Karstark hesitated, "building a port requires a lot of money, and House Karstark has never been a house rich in coin."

There it was. He needed money to build the piers, warehouses, and ships, and before he went seeking a potential loan from someone, he came to see if his liege lord would instead provide it to him. Robb wondered if Rickard would make such a request if it was his father sitting where he now sat. Perhaps the thought was that someone who had lived with his family for five years would be more open to providing the funding.

"How much does House Karstark need?" Ser Rodrik asked, leaning forward.

"About three thousand in gold."

Robb's eyebrows shot up in surprise for a second before he got his face under control. Ser Rodrik tugged at his whiskers, Jon sat still with a stoic face, and Theon let out a small whistle.

They could pay that and still have plenty left in the vaults. His father had spent a lot of money on building roads and keeps throughout the North, and Robb had dipped into the coffers himself for things, but there was still more than enough in there. A request that large would be expected to be paid back in time. If there was an increase in trade at Karhold that meant more taxes that would be collected. Overtime lending the money to Lord Karstark would be paid back and then some, but for that amount of money it would take years. Maybe he could lend it with an agreement of doubling the tax rate the first seven years as a way to pay it back quicker, or something similar. He wondered, given the large amount being requsted, if it was a topic best sent to his father to deal with.

"That is a large sum," Robb said, stating the obvious. "I can make no guarantees at this time, but will see what we can do before you leave for home."

"Aye, I understand. I will see you at the feast."

"Tell your children I will stop by to see them shortly. It will be good to see them all again."

As soon as Lord Kastark left the room, Wynafryd came in with his mother behind her. His wife looked a little tired but otherwise fine. She had a nervous energy about her, her hands fidgeting with the cloth of her sleeves. His mother had the biggest smile Robb could ever remember seeing, and not even the sight of Jon sitting at his side could dampen it.

"Three thousand gold is a lot of money," Jon muttered.

"It's big ask of Lord Karstark," Ser Rodrik agreed.

"My lord husband," Wynafryd said as she came to a stop in front of him, interrupting their discussion.

Robb stood up, moving around the table and stepping down from the dais to stand before his wife. He took her hands in his and looked into her eyes.

"Are you alright? Has yesterday's sickness lingered?"

Wynafryd gave a shy look over his shoulder, at the three who still sat on the dais, before her eyes came back to rest on his. "I'm more than alright. I'm - I'm pregnant."