Chapter 91: Tactical retreat

28-29 AC

Robb

He sat in Riverrun's solar, putting the finishing touches to his plan to retreat. The Tyrells had done what he had expected of them after his earlier retreat from Stoney Sept. They had marched into the Riverlands, plundering and looting while looking for his weakened force to try and force a quick direct engagement.

He had anticipated this and made it impossible for them to get what they wanted. He had let them come. All harvests between Riverrun and Stoney Sept had been carted away long before he had met the Tyrell king in Stoney Sept. They had poisoned wells and burned many possibilities to scavenge food in the area.

Even the castles hadn't been allowed to retain much of their stocks, although he had allowed those families that wished to remain there to do so. All of the local houses, except for House Goodwood, had broken the vows they had made to him in the past civil war. He wouldn't shed a tear if their lands burned.

Pinkmaiden, Wayfarer's Rest and Acorn Hall had quickly fallen to the enemy. House Goodwood's lands were also taken by the Tyrells, but only after tens of thousands of people had been evacuated from them.

This morning, he had gotten the news that Atranta had fallen too. Some of his lords had been astounded by his strategy, but he knew that it would work. Facing the Tyrells head on with his remaining twenty-two thousand men plus a few thousand Riverlords with uncertain loyalties was asking for disaster.

Every day that passed, his reinforcements from the North got closer. Every mile the Tyrells marched, their supply lines became more and more stretched, and their forces dwindled from all the garrisons they had to leave behind.

He also had a few surprises planned this time. He had written to his allies for aid weeks ago, and that was now paying off massively. A few days ago, a raven had arrived announcing the departure of the Ironborn under Lord Harras Harlaw from their islands with a fleet of over one hundred and fifty ships. Thousands of Ironborn were on their way to the Shield Islands to recover their lost glory.

At the same time, the Lannisters had started raiding the lands of Houses Lake and Oakheart. Soon, King Willem Lannister would invade with at least fifteen thousand soldiers. That wasn't all. King Consort Edric Baratheon of the Stormlands had called his banners. Soon, he would set the fertile valleys between the Cockleswhent and the Blueburn rivers aflame. King Edric's two eldest sons would march together with him, amongst them his future goodson Stannis.

He had spent years nurturing his alliances and had made many a sacrifice to keep them. Only recently, he had released the Lefford and Payne prisoners for ransoms instead of executing them. A thing which some of his lords had openly criticized. Let them. This way, he would win the war.

The only allies who had proven to be disappointing had been the Arryns. King Harrold Arryn had apparently refused to come to his aid. His official explanation for this was religion, as the Tyrells seemed to have the approval from the High Septon in their 'holy war'. His spies whispered of letters from Oldtown flying into the Eyrie for weeks on end.

Nevertheless, politics were almost certainly a part of it too. The Arryns had no way to expand either geographically or trade wise in any direction because of his realm. Harrold probably saw an opportunity to weaken his kingdom and create a more opportune situation for the future. Nonetheless, that had proven a miscalculation.

The king's own goodbrother, Lord Andar Royce, had called his banners and those of his allies in his own name. It had never been clearer how much power House Royce wielded in the Vale than now. In a show of strength, Lord Andar had not only raised his own banners and those of all his vassals. No, the Redforts, Waynwoods, Donnigers, Upcliffes, Melcolms, Egens and Templetons had also raised men for their cause. All those houses were related to Lord Andar through marriage, except for the Templetons who joined out of friendship.

In total, nine thousand soldiers were now gathering at the Bloody Gate, and there was nothing that Harrold Arryn could do about it. Many of those houses, especially the Redforts, Waynwoods, and Templetons had very good relations with other houses that hadn't joined House Royce's coalition. This left the Arryns without enough allies to make a move against the coalition if he wished to do so.

Moreover, those nine thousand weren't all the troops these houses could muster. Thousands remained at home to protect their lands. Lord Andar himself remained in Runestone to monitor the situation in the Vale, while his heir Allard would lead the army.

Allard was his daughter Berena's husband. A good and capable young man whose lack of experience would be countered by the presence of Lords Redfort, Templeton and Donniger.

Already, Tyrell's vanguard was advancing on Riverrun. Most of his own army had already retreated towards Raventree, and he would join them in a few hours. He would let Garlan Tyrell come and he would grant him the last victory of his weeks of invincibility. Weeks where he thought himself the greatest conqueror in the history of Westeros would soon come to an end.

While his armies rested and resupplied in Raventree, they would be joined by eighteen thousand Northerners who had already started marching down the Causeway. While his army would grow to almost the size of that of the Tyrells, the Reach would be attacked from all sides. The Lannisters would attack in the northwest, the Ironborn from the sea in the west and the Baratheons from the east. He had even written to Princess Arianne Martell to organize raiding parties into the Reach. These letters had gone unanswered, but you never knew with the Dornish. What he did know was that the Dornish borderlords had also been recipients of letters from the Starry Sept. Because of this, he wasn't counting on any support from the south.

In the span of a week the armies of the Reach would find themselves overstretched in enemy territory. They would have suddenly lost their significant numerical advantage, while their homeland was burning. That is when he would strike, not a second earlier.

He looked forward to that moment, and it was near. When it came, the Reach would burn. He would not stop at his side of the Goldroad, as the Tyrells hadn't stopped at their side. The Reach would burn. His men would only march north again when their pockets were filled with gold, the Faith Militant was destroyed, and the Reach was on its knees.

Garlan Tyrell would feel the wrath that his father had been spared. He had made peace with Willas Tyrell in the understanding that his sons would not have to go to war if he did. Now, both his sons sported battle scars and his nephew was still recovering from a near death experience. No, this would not stand. Highgarden would be humbled and diminished in power until they weren't a threat anymore. That was the only way peace in the Riverlands could be achieved.

Giving Riverrun over to a siege was a hard sacrifice to make, but it was a necessary one. Lord Hoster had agreed to the strategy, but only if he himself led the defense of Riverrun. A mistake, in his eyes, but he would not stop him. As an extra safety measure, he had reinforced the garrison of Riverrun with Northmen from Winterfell, Barrowton and Hornwood.

None of those would ever surrender, and they were well prepared for a siege. The stocks of food and ammunition were filled to the brim, all non-essential people were evacuated and the morale of his Northmen was high. On top of that, Riverrun was almost impossible to siege with its situation between the rivers.

Tyrell also wouldn't be able to bypass Riverrun, as its large garrison would otherwise inflict horrendous damage to his rear. No, their situation was safe, even if the idea of Riverrun coming under siege again was horrible. Let the Tyrells think they were winning for now. They would get their revenge soon.

He picked up the last of his documents, including his memoires that he was writing. Years ago, he had written a first entry about the turbulent start of his reign and the wars against the Lannisters, Targaryens and Ironborn. After that he had always kept notes of his reign, but it had been less codified.

When Ricky had turned sixteen, he had given him the first entry and to his surprise his son had read it cover to cover multiple times. When asked why, he had told him that he thought it incredibly instructive for what to do in certain situations and even as the crown prince it seemed to help him with his studies.

That's when he had decided to keep documenting his reign as best he could. With the help of Winterfell's maester, he had written a second book about the two decades of ruling he had done since he had gotten back north. That second entry went into detail about statecraft, diplomacy, settlement building and trade.

Now, he was planning a third entry. He anticipated to be stuck in Raventree for several weeks. He might as well start writing everything from Elmar's rebellion down, now that it was still fresh in his memory.

He was looking forward to the time when he could once again write about the construction of settlements and the clearing of forests, the importance of marriage alliances and the cultural intermingling taking place in White Harbor and Riverport. Yet, that would have to be something for a fourth entry. In the near future, all he would write about would be war.

(Ten days later)

He smiled, as the last of the detachments of the second Northern army joined his forces under the early summer sun that the white ravens had just announced. His son Jon had brought the whole of the North to him. Young boys from Barrowton and White Harbor, reserves that hadn't been mobilized on time from the lands of Houses Umber and Karstark and even the full might of the Mountain Clans and Skagosi had come. All men that they could logistically support.

A strong garrison of a thousand men remained in Moat Cailin and decent sized garrisons in keeps along the shores, but otherwise the North had mostly emptied itself and he had never seen such a magnificent horde of men. In total, he now had thirty-one thousand Northmen who were ready to fight.

He also had twenty thousand Riverlanders. The Riverlanders numbers were lower as they had lost more men in Pinkmaiden with Elmar's cavalry charges on their flank. Many of Elmar's troops had also come from the region, lowering its potential manpower. Lastly, raids had dwindled their troop numbers, together with the necessary garrisons he had had to leave behind.

Nonetheless, it was a force he was proud of. It was a good mix of veterans and fresh men and the morale of his Northerners had remained extremely high, especially with the reinforcements coming in. The Riverlanders' confidence had been lower, but they had been pacified by the idea that he had never before lost a battle or campaign. Moreover, the news from outside the Riverlands had raised the morale of all his men.

The Lannisters had attacked the Reach in number. King Willem Lannister was sieging Red Lake himself, while his twin brother was travelling south along the Oceanroad and setting everything on fire he couldn't cart off back with him.

At the same time, King Consort Edric Baratheon had also attacked. He had split his forces in two. One under himself and one under his heir and with results. Edric had sacked the town of Grassy Vale and put Grassfield Keep under siege, while his son Robert had raided along the Cockleswhent and would soon put Ashford to siege.

The former was the most interesting one. Grassy Vale was less than one hundred and fifty miles from Bitterbridge. That castle was the centerpiece of the Tyrell supply line. All supplies from Highgarden to Stoney Sept and the Riverlands passed through it. If it came under siege, Tyrell's sixty thousand men would be cut off from any supplies and then he could starve them into submission without ever having to do battle.

Nevertheless, it probably wouldn't come to that. The past two days, his outriders had reported less skirmishes with the enemy, and the enemy force seemed to have stopped advancing after putting Riverrun and Lychester to siege.

He interrupted his thoughts to greet the commanders of the Northern rearguard personally at the border of the encampment. He clasped arms with Donnel Cerwyn, a second cousin of Lord Cley, and Ned Umber, Smalljon's younger brother who had finally joined the force together with his two young sons.

Suddenly, Grey Wind barked heavily, as lines of soldiers passed into the camp. "What is it, boy?" He asked, as he pulled at the strings at the back of his head. "Pack!" Grey's thoughts screamed at him so loudly that he was thrown back into his own head. His direwolf sped off, outside the palisade around their encampment. He howled loudly, and to his shock other direwolves joined him from all over the camp.

He saw the younger direwolves Ash, Shadow and Fang chase after Grey Wind, but Nymeria, Lady, Ghost and Shaggy did the same. The column of marching soldiers stopped, as they looked upon eight adult direwolves running off in the distance. Suddenly their howls were answered by a ninth direwolf in the distance. To others, it might have sounded as one of the eight, but he knew this howl to be an answer to the first ones.

He shared a look with Jon and his sons, before shouting for a horse. Not much later, the three of them and a handful members of his Wolfsguard were charging down the Blackwood Vale. A mile from camp, they came upon a scene he could never have imagined.

Four adult direwolves were roughhousing with each other, as four others had jumped upon a man. The man was laying on the ground, but the wolves didn't seem to hurt him. Two men seemed nailed to the floor, but surprisingly they hadn't pulled their swords outside of their sheaths at the sight of Ghost slowly stalking around them.

They rode on, and only when he called back Grey did the direwolves come to their senses. Ghost, Ash and Fang walked back to their owners, and Lady and Nymeria followed Grey obediently. Only Shadow continued to happily lick the man's face, as the other direwolf pushed his nose to his.

He almost rubbed his eyes, as he recognized the direwolf as Summer. "Bran?" He called loudly. "Aye, Robb. It's me." His younger brother laughed, as he pushed himself up. He was dressed in brown riding attire. It was muddied and almost buried under direwolf hair.

"What are you doing here? I told you to guard Moat Cailin!" He exclaimed. Jon paid him no mind and jumped of his horse to embrace their brother. After a small unsure look at him, both his sons followed suit.

He dismounted too, nodding respectfully to his brother's companions who were dressed equally inconspicuously. He embraced his brother, who was in the process of ridding himself of half a ton of direwolf hair.

Bran pulled back and looked him in his eyes. "I apologize for disobeying your orders, Robb. Maybe I make a bad Commander of Moat Cailin because of it, I don't know. However, I had to see my son. Alyn and Benedict are dead and my son is badly wounded, … I needed to see how he is doing. I only have one son, Robb. I can't lose him."

He could see the hurt, uncertainty and despair in his brother's eyes and decided right there that he couldn't punish him for this. He just took him in his arms again. "Bryn is recovering well, but you will see him soon. He is in Raventree. No matter the circumstances, I am always happy to see you little brother."

Bran seemed to sigh in relief, as he embraced him back. As they pulled away from each other, Ricky questioned his uncle. "Why aren't you with the army, Uncle Brandon? You are a Prince of Winterfell. You should have been at the head of our forces with my brother. You look like a common brigand."

Bran laughed awkwardly. "I didn't want to take the chance of being sent back by your father. If I had joined Littlejon here, Robb would have sent a raven to force me back to Moat Cailin by the time we had reached the Twins. I did the only thing I could think of. I followed the rearguard at a safe distance all the way here from Moat Cailin."

"You weren't discovered on the Causeway?" Their brother Jon 'the elder' asked him. "I have many friends among the Crannogmen. They guided me safely through their marches. I didn't have any need to be on the Causeway." Jon seemed impressed with the answer.

His youngest son looked apologetic. "I apologize, uncle. I never knew that you were out there. Not even Fang noticed your presence … I would have hosted you in my own tent otherwise."

Bran laughed. "You are a good lad, Jon. However, I arranged it in such a way that you couldn't have known. I travelled behind the rearguard, while you were with the van."

"How did you get over the Twins?" Their brother frowned, clearly reconstructing his journey in his head.

Bran grinned. "I have never come across a fisherman that isn't willing to lend out his boat for a handful of golden coins."

This made him laugh aloud. Most fishermen didn't make a single golden coin in a year, let alone several. "Didn't they think you a spy? I mean … look at how you're dressed uncle." Ricky pointed out.

Bran frowned sarcastically. "How many enemy spies have direwolves seven feet tall, nephew?"

"Good point." His eldest son shrugged.

"I must ask, Bran? How is Moat Cailin faring? Who is in command if something happens?" He finally asked.

"Bethany is in command of the daily running of the Moat, its reconstruction and the supply of the large garrison. Lord Flint's brother is in control of all military aspects. He was the commander of the Flint detachment and seems calm and calculated." His younger brother replied truthfully. He accepted the answer. It could have been far worse.

His kinsmen all started to talk amongst each other. He looked the situation over and the absurdity of it all. "Let us go to the camp. Most of my lords will be worried sick about our sudden disappearance. I wouldn't be surprised if search parties have already been sent out. Besides, I guess my brother and his two companions would be glad to be able to wash up."

Bran sighed blissfully. "I would kill for a bath and some ale."

He clasped his hand on his brother's shoulder. "We won't let you wait on them any longer. Let's go."

They mounted their horses, and Bran and his companions did the same. He suddenly realized that both companions were Crannogmen, as he noticed their small stature and ponies. They introduced themselves as Borg Craggmyre and Cidrik Peat. Both of those were important names among the Crannogmen, and he welcomed them heartedly, as he asked after the health of Lord Howland.

Bran

He looked upon the face of his only son, who was sitting down bare-chested in one of the comfortable chairs in the room. The room itself seemed to be a curtesy of Lord Blackwood, a thing which he greatly appreciated.

He studied his boy. His jawline looked sharper, and he had clearly lost some weight. In contrast his shoulders and arms seemed to have grown. A small frown could be found upon his forehead, and a large scar upon his upper arm. Nonetheless, his eyes seemed full of life. He didn't seem surprised by his arrival. Of course not, his direwolf Shadow had accompanied him here.

The direwolf affectionately hugged his master, before he himself grabbed his only son into a bear hug. He would never tell anyone, but a small tear welled up in his eyes at that moment. He had lost his best friend and goodbrother Alyn, his decade long protector Ser Benedict and another lifelong friend Lord Myles Mooton, but he still had his son.

His son seemed overwhelmed by his show of affection, but he didn't seem to mind. "How are you, Bryn?" He asked.

"Better every day, father. The wound on my arm has healed well, and so have my broken ribs. I have recently begun some light training. I get tired easily, but I feel barely any pain.

He nodded approvingly. His son would be all right. "How are things back at the Moat?" His son asked in return.

He frowned. "We must house and control the large one thousand men garrison. I had them drilled to keep them sharp. On top of that, I had them hunt and build for us. Two more granaries have been finished, as well as thirty houses in the village and a roof on one of the new towers. Your sisters are well, but they miss you. Your mother has taken the loss of your Uncle Alyn badly, but she will get over it in time. She told me to send you her love."

His young son took in his words. He looked almost guilty. "There was nothing I could do for Uncle Alyn father … he threw himself into battle with Ser Benedict and some of our personal retinue to protect me. None of them survived, but me."

He looked harshly in the seventeen-year-old boy's eyes. "None of that is your fault Bryn, do you hear me? What Alyn did, he did voluntarily. He did it because it was his duty and because he cared for you. He is with the Gods now and will be happy that he managed to help save you."

Brynden seemed to accept that but was still worried. "What will happen to my cousins?"

He sighed. Since coming North, Alyn had had five daughters with his wife, a girl coming from the local lower nobility. One of them had died to a sickness last winter, but the other four had suddenly come to an uncertain fate.

"They are well-enough. The middle ones spend much time at the Moat, in the company of your sisters. The youngest and eldest prefer to stay with their mother but visit often." He started, as he scratched his beard.

"The betrothal Alyn arranged for his eldest daughter Bethany to Ser Morgan Boscage will stand. Ser Morgan accompanied the army south and will have joined our detachment in the camp by now. If he survives this war, they will inherit his lands together. For now, they will be administered by his widow. I will personally find good local marriages for your other three cousins. They are nieces to the Commander of the Moat and Lords Blackwood and Goodwood. I will have no trouble finding them suitors. I will personally arrange their dowries. They will want for nothing."

This seemed to set his son's mind at ease. Together they talked about the campaign and what he thought about it. Afterwards, they had dinner with the Blackwood and Goodwood clan. They mourned Alyn but enjoyed a pleasant evening. His goodbrother excused himself profusely about the lack of rooms available and even offered his heir's room to him, but he laughed it off. It had been over a week since he had slept in a bed. He would gladly share his son's room.

At night, with Bryn's quiet snoring in the background, he contemplated how lucky he was to be able to see his son's face again. He decided then and there that he wouldn't go to the Moat again before this war was over. Bryn needed to be protected, and as his father it was his task to do so. He would see this war out together with his son, for better or for worse.

(Four weeks later)

Robb

He rode at the head of his army, the familiar gates of Stoney Sept looming before him. The sun was setting, casting long shadows over the cobblestone road, but the warmth of the day still lingered in the air.

Two months ago, he had had to leave this place to the Tyrells. He had done his best then to save the town from destruction and it seemed that they hadn't destroyed it now either. His vanguard had already taken control of it, and their messengers told him that the Reachmen had created a handful of fires when they left, but these had quickly been extinguished by the local populace.

He chuckled internally. In their flight south, the Reachmen had even left some of their supplies in the town. Worse than that, they had left over a hundred soldiers behind. Those too sick or weak to join them on their forced march to Bitterbridge.

His scorched earth tactics had started baring fruit a month ago, and from the moment that Tyrell pulled back from Lychester his light cavalry hadn't stopped harassing their baggage trains and rear. Two months the Reachmen armies had been in the Riverlands. In that time, no battles had been fought. Nevertheless, the Tyrells had lost four thousand men and large amounts of weapons and supplies. Some had been lost storming the former neutral castles, but most had died from the attrition by his forces or the lack of supplies.

He had lost less than a sixth of that number, most of those being garrisons from houses that had remained neutral during the civil war. He didn't mind them losing some troops to achieve his objectives.

He had already reclaimed all the lost lands and keeps north of here. In the Riverlands, only the Menning and Parrell castles were still in Tyrell hands. Ironically, they were the only ones that were garrisoned. King Garlan's message was clear "these lands belong to the Reach." He would have to disappoint him. On the morrow, Bran and Rickon would march to take them.

That wasn't the only good news either, as he thought about the messages he had received yesterday evening from the Iron Isles. Lord Harras 'one-arm' Harlaw had defeated the Tyrell fleet in a naval battle in the Sunset Sea. It had come at the cost of a fourth of the Ironborn fleet, including one of Lord Harlaw's five sons.

In response to this, Lord Harras and his remaining sons were burning the Shield Islands down to ground. They were murdering and pillaging their way through the four islands again, apparently even carrying off hundreds of salt wives in the process.

That was clever from Lord Harras. The Iron Islands had been experiencing a demographic disaster for the last thirty years. Balon's and Euron's war had killed a great part of the able-bodied male population. The thrall uprising and his destruction of Pyke and Saltcliffe had killed even more. The demographic decline had been halted under Lord Rodrik and been reversed slowly by his successor Lord Harras.

By importing many fertile women he could speed up that process greatly. It also wasn't technically forbidden under their treaty, which abolished thralldom but didn't abolish the existence of salt wives. He would not object. He had seen what the 'mighty and noble' men from the Reach had done to the people of the Riverlands. Homesteads burned, women raped and people slaughtered.

Whether he liked it or not was not the question. His lords, and kin, demanded vengeance paid to them in kind. They openly called for the destruction of the Reach and a campaign that would kill hundreds of thousands of innocents.

Denying them this would even shake his rule, and for what? Thousands of zealots from the Reach, both highborn and lowborn, had moved into the Riverlands to plunder and murder. Its septons had supported it, and its merchants had financed it. No this was a collective responsibility and the punishment would fall upon the whole nation.

Tactically, this also made the most sense. This war had shown that the descendants of those punished would come for revenge, and that they would be supported by others from the Reach. Many perceived heirs of the knightly houses he had banished in the region above the Goldroad had joined the Footlys during the civil war. They had hired soldiers from elsewhere in the Reach with money given to them by House Tyrell and others. With those troops they had committed massacres under the Riverlanders in the Menning and Parrel territories.

This could never happen again. He would need to ensure that. His first objectives would be securing Tumbleton and the source of the Mander. Lord Footly would feel their wrath for what he had done. Tumbleton also housed large numbers of rebels that had fled from the Riverlands. Many of his vassals would love to get revenge on them. From there, they would follow the river until they reached Highgarden. The seat of House Tyrell would not escape his wrath this time.

This is it for this chapter!

It is a shorter one that sets the stage for Robb's upcoming campaign in the Reach. Tyrell continued to march into the Riverlands, but Robb just keeps retreating until his reinforcements have arrived. At the same time, the Baratheons and Lannisters have attacked the Reach and the former threaten the Tyrell supply lines into the Riverlands.

Bran comes down to protect his son, creating a situation where all adult males of House Stark are now together. (Rickard has a young son Edywle that is safely in Winterfell and both Rickard and Jon's wives are pregnant, so the line is secure). Robb's army now hosts 9 (!) direwolves.

At the end, Robb retakes the Riverlands and prepares to march on Tumbleton, and he won't stop there. He has pooled all his resources and is now in total war against the Reach.

Thank you all for your continued support.

Fannic

Reviews:

- Force Smuggler & Rebfan90: Thank you both so much for your continued support!

- Jmknz777: Thanks!

- GregtheGregor: Thank you! Your wishes have come true. The Ironborn are ravaging the Shield Islands as we speak. They won't stop there unless stopped, and Robb won't stop them.

- The Three Stooges: Thank you so much!

- 27mad97: Glad that you picked up on that. Garlan (the younger) is a mix between his late father (Willas) and his late uncles (Garlan and Loras). He has the political mind of Willas and the military mind of Garlan. If he wishes, he has grace like all three had. However, he also has the bad attitudes of Loras, courtesy of the court of Highgarden. Those will often cloud his intelligent mind.

He has reached out to all of them. Not everyone has responded, but many have.

- Yeaaaah I read: This made me laugh. That is what Robb wants to do now, yes.

- MasterOfDragonsGod: He was a little delusional, yes. However, by now he will have come to his senses. Don't expect him to be an easy opponent. Garlan underestimated Robb and he is paying dearly for it. His army has suffered losses and was forced to flee the Riverlands. The Reach has been invaded from three sides and Robb will soon attack from a fourth one. Nevertheless, he still has an army 50k strong that is very well trained and provisioned. He won't be a pushover.

- Iacopo Passerini: He did, yes. Garlan feels that it is his duty to reclaim those lands.

In Dutch, we have a similar saying. Translated it is: "Don't sell the bear's skin before you have shot him." It is a saying Garlan should have taken to hard, alas he hasn't. He will learn the lesson the hard way. Tyrell has sacked large parts of the Riverlands, but has ultimately been forced to flee to save his kingdom.

The war in the Reach will be brutal and Robb's vassals won't accept peace without getting the High Septon's head. We will see whether he manages to get it or not.

- Cliff West: It is total war, and the shoe has just shifted to Robb's foot.

- Scifiromance: Thank you so much. I'm glad that you liked it. What did you think of the invasion and the alliances?

- Yogurt9928: Thank you! His arrogance has now come back in his face like a boomerang. He isn't out yet, not by a long shot. However, he is now on the back foot due to his actions, something he never suspected. Yeah, I think the majority of the Westerlands, Reach and Dorne have their doubts about it. I will go into further detail about some of Jon's children later, but they have all inherited some Targaryen traits. Nonetheless, none of them is full Valyrian (fair complexion, pale with platinum white or gold hair and deep indigo, violet or deepish blue eyes). His eldest daughter Lyanna is mentioned in Chapter 74 to have Stark and Manderly coloring, but a very fair and pale complexion. This is due to Targ ancestry. More on this later.

- Poly19hum: Glad to see that you like the new POV. He will come back in the future. Garlan is incredibly arrogant, but he is smart. He will not make that same mistake again.