It took a month for The Northmen to assemble in Winterfell and then march south.
Alaric's Winter Legion joined them along the way, fifteen hundred heavily armed and armoured men in the grey steel plate armour above chainmail, grey pants with steel plate armour fastened above it up to the thighs from ankles, and the hard black boots with studded nails covering the lower part of leg armour, Bevor and a morion helmet covering the neck, head, chin and throat with extra protection. The only thing this armour lacks is tasset which has been compensated by chainmail. Steel clanked as they marched in steady and regular steps reverberated in everyone's ears, which shocked all the northern lords and their levies.
They had seen the disciplined armies but not to this extent. To everyone's amusement and astonishment, they sang When the Wolves Cry Out as their military song as they marched; None of the lords or their levies had heard such a song. Which added a different ambience in the air, accompanied by the clanks of steel under the grey sky.
"When the wolves cry out Echoes in the old walls Distant are the calls On the Winter's wind when the wolves cry out Honour in the grey bonds Held in the beyond As the lights they dim."
"Jory, did you participate and oversaw their training," Ned quietly brought his horse towards his Captain of the Guards and asked him, pointing at Winter legion marching on the King's road in the middle of the green sea of grass.
"I, did milord," Jory replied informally.
"Why did you leave such an Army?" Ned asked again, eyes fixed on Winter legion.
"Forgive me, milord! But I believe my place is by your side."
"There is nothing to forgive," Ned exhaled.
A human rambler's voice interrupted Ned's focus. "A good Umber charge and these Metal corpses would fall like sacks of sands." GreatJon Umber's thumped his puffed out chest; his voice rumbled in the air like a hard bass.
Rickard Karstark Snorted beside him, and Galbart Glover raised his hands in the air, "The only way I see it ending with is you on the ground below your horse at the end of a Spear."
"Bloody Hell at the end of a Spear! You say—" GreatJon Umber roared in the disagreement like an angry gorilla, his hand already on the hilt of his sword as if he will really charge.
"Enough! My Lords," Ned Stark interrupted them, his cold judgy eyes bouncing back and forth, "We have a long journey ahead; we might as well save our energy for what's ahead," he finished.
"Aye Milord Stark," GreatJon Umber conceded, as did Galbart Glover and other lords.
Among all the lords, Roose Bolton is the quietest, with Unremarkable features yet Pale Skin and ghostly grey eyes masking his Thoughts for years. Ned never had any reason to complain of the Lord of the Dreadfort like a quiet soft poison; he stood at the corner of Lord Stark's gaze to the far right among all the lords, his thoughts masked behind his ghostly eyes as he sneaked a peek at Winter Legion with ghostly eyes.
.....
The biggest Naval battle in History was about to take place in the Straits of Fair Isle. For a month and a half since the declaration of Ironborn independence. Stannis had sailed towards the Faircastle with Royal Fleet supported by warships from the Arbor, Oldtown, and the Reach.
On his flagship, Fury Stannis was going through the plan for one last time.
I want the ships from Arbor, Oldtown and the Reach rush ahead of us to the Faircastle." Stannis pointed at the map with a Knife. "You will wait and face the Ironborn here until I arrive with the main onto their backs with the mainland to the east and Faircastle to the west," Stannis said with a serious expression on his face.
"My Lord! Forgive my rudeness, but why will Ironborn come to Fair isle? They are fierce warriors and good sailors," One of the Reachmen asked, his clothes and armour extravagant compared to the simple leather Jerkin donned over grey quilted doublet with worn boots of Stannis Baratheon.
"Because they are warriors, not soldiers! The last time an Ironborn used his brain, he got mutilated by his own people besides they don't have an option."
The two fleets soon separated; one raced towards the Fair isle while the other approached the same target slowly.
Meanwhile, in another place at another fleet, The Ironfleet were also making final preparation for battle against Stannis's fleet.
Victarion was arguing with reader Lord Rodrick Harlow.
"Have you lost your wits?" Rodrick roared at Victarion, his hand slapped on the table between them.
"Be careful before you speak, reader! This may be the only chance we have before they regroup their fleet; we can pick them off one at a time."
"What if they surround you?" Rodrick Harlow asked.
"Stannis is too far away from Fair isle; we hit them by surprise and retreat before Stannis arrives."
"It's a rootless plan—"
"—Enough Reader! you do as I command or go back to ten towers as a coward." Victarion hissed at Rodrick while the latter only shook his head.
Lord Captain Victarion ordered Ironfleet to set sail for the Faircastle.
On Royalfleet flagship Fury, inside darkwooden captain's cabin, "milord the fish has been hooked, the Ironborn has even saved us from the trouble of circling Fairisle to surround them, they are circling it as we speak," ser Davos Seaworth reported.
Stannis adjusted the bracer on his left sleeve, "now we trap and hunt a Kraken, let's give them a lesson in Strategy, unity and discipline."
Stannis gazed at Davos, his powerful stare with the ferocity of sharp iron enough to compel the weak-willed to bow in submission, "Now go aboard your Black Betha."
"Aye Milord," Davos said.