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Chapter 320 - Chapter 320: Riding North on Dragonback

"You're saying that Tywin Lannister alone stirred up such enormous waves in the North?!"

"Not just him, Your Grace…"

On the road leading the army toward Storm's End, Kal took the letter the maester presented and listened to his report, his face filled with confusion.

Seeing his confusion, the maester offered an explanation.

"I know…" Kal waved his hand irritably, his brows knitting into a deep furrow.

Understanding the cue, the maester lowered his head and withdrew.

Kal looked at the several letters in his hand—some from the North, some from Casterly Rock, and others from King's Landing.

The news from the North was said to have been sent by Roose Bolton, who had escaped from the Wolfswood after enduring a bitter and hard-fought battle.

The letter described in detail the fighting that took place at Deepwood Motte in the Wolfswood, as well as the circumstances surrounding Robb Stark's capture.

The remaining letters were joint battle reports from House Karstark, House Mormont, and others. Without exception, all of them confirmed that Robb Stark had been taken captive.

At first glance, the two sets of letters seemed unrelated. They merely corroborated one another, fully and meticulously describing what had happened in the battle at Deepwood Motte, even filling in every detail.

Rickard Karstark and the others stayed behind at Deepwood Motte to deal with the aftermath, while Roose Bolton and Robb Stark led their men in continued pursuit of Tywin Lannister's forces, only to fall into an ambush by the ironmen of the Iron Islands.

Robb Stark was captured. After Roose Bolton's army was scattered, they fled, and it was not until the fourth day that they finally found Karstark's forces—who themselves had been forced to retreat after suffering an unexpected surprise attack by Iron Islands troops at Deepwood Motte.

During this process, Roose had attempted to rescue Robb. However, after several probing efforts all ended in failure, he had no choice but to escape first.

Now, this remnant force was regrouping and heading toward Winterfell. In his letter, Roose also stated that he had already sent word to his own lands at the Dreadfort to muster more men to reinforce Winterfell in response to the Iron Islands' assault.

Yet despite these two mutually corroborating letters, Kal's gaze lingered on them for a long time. His eyes were filled with contemplation, and his expression was far from pleasant.

After a long while, Kal set them down on the long table.

As for the letter from White Harbor, it was even more straightforward. No one could have imagined that in a place like the North, with winter about to arrive, a Braavosi mercenary force would launch an attack against them—going so far as to disguise themselves as a merchant caravan.

However, White Harbor had not fallen completely. At the final moment, House Manderly relied on their family's New Castle, the Wolf's Den, and part of the city's defenses to avoid total collapse. They still held a portion of White Harbor.

They sheltered the city's civilians and fought against the invading mercenary army.

However, precisely because of this, they had also lost the ability to take the initiative and launch an offensive. They were now waiting for reinforcements from the Vale army that had already arrived in the North.

As for the Vale soldiers who had originally reached White Harbor and were tasked with first transporting supplies to support the Wall, they had long since departed White Harbor with the bulk of those supplies.

White Harbor had already sent letters to ask whether they could turn back to provide support, after all, they were close by.

Then there were the noble lords in the areas surrounding White Harbor.

As for the other Vale land army, it was still unclear where exactly it had reached.

This was the full extent of the news concerning the North.

As for the letter from King's Landing, aside from feedback from Varys and others regarding various matters of governance in King's Landing during this period, as well as some issues related to his appointment of Randyll Tarly as Master of Laws, the rest concerned inquiries about the Hand.

Then there was another letter, written in a delicate hand, the parchment mottled with tear stains. Between the lines were worries for her father and brother, along with longing and hopes directed toward Kal.

It was from Sansa Stark, though Kal could tell that much of it bore the imprint of Catelyn Tully.

As for the letter from Casterly Rock, Tyrion had written quite a lot, but Kal no longer had much interest in reading it.

The arrangements in the Westerlands had already been properly settled, and leaving the rest to Tyrion was more than sufficient.

Moreover, with the piece he had deliberately planted—Bronn—it would, in time, also extend its influence into the Riverlands, a region that for Kal was something of a thorn in the throat.

Thus, the only matter left for Tyrion to handle was that of the Iron Islands.

However, after these developments, Kal had already changed his mind about that matter.

"I need to go to the North first. Things there cannot be allowed to fall into disorder."

"As for you, continue the march. Once you have joined forces with the Dornish army, completely seal off Storm's End!"

"After sealing off Storm's End, do not act rashly. Leave everything to be dealt with when I return."

Setting aside the letters that left him ill at ease, Kal lightly tapped his fingers against the long table before making his decision.

His words caused everyone present to freeze in surprise.

After all, the situation in the North appeared chaotic at the moment, yet when viewed as a whole, there was in fact nothing truly serious there—certainly nothing that could plunge the North into real turmoil over such matters.

To say nothing of the fact that after such events, the northern lords who had not yet moved would all be fully mobilized, not to mention the powerful Vale host, long prepared, that was already on the march.

With these forces in place, the North could not possibly descend into chaos. At most, it merely looked somewhat bedraggled for now.

Yet because of this, the King was actually willing to set aside Storm's End—which was of greater importance to him—and the battle that, after defeating Stannis, would decisively cement the legitimacy of his throne, and instead choose to head north first.

This left everyone attending the council wearing expressions of confusion.

And yet, none of those present could find any words with which to refute Kal's decision.

After Randyll Tarly, Jon White Wolf, and the others had each been dispatched by the King and settled in their respective posts, it now seemed that no one among the Reach host on the march could truly approach Kal anymore.

In the end, Lady Arwyn Oakheart stepped forward and said, "Your Grace, perhaps it would be better to exercise a bit more patience. The Vale army has already entered the lands of the North. They possess more than enough strength to deal with the present disorder there."

"And if Your Grace is concerned about Robb Stark, there is no need for undue worry. Since Balon Greyjoy chose to take him captive rather than kill him, he must have intended to negotiate. His safety should not be a matter of great concern."

"At most, he will make certain demands."

Arwyn's words were well reasoned, laying out the situation in the North with clarity.

After all, with the Vale army that Kal had mobilized in advance, it was impossible for anything truly serious to happen in the North. All the troubles were merely superficial.

As for Tywin Lannister, who seemed to have caused all this turmoil?

Only death could wash away the sins he had wrought—there was no dispute on that point.

Perhaps it was precisely because he knew that his role in hiring assassins to murder King Robert Baratheon had been exposed that, in despair, he resorted to this final struggle and madness.

Once a towering great lord of the Seven Kingdoms, a man who had stood at the pinnacle of power, possessed wealth and force rivaling the realm itself—a mighty lion whose roar could silence all—had fallen to such a state.

At that point, no action could be considered too extreme.

After all, the ancient House of Lannister, whose lineage had endured for so long, had been plunged entirely into the abyss by the decisions of his own lifetime. Anyone in his place would have gone mad.

All the more so for Tywin, a man who valued family and legacy above all else.

Thus, his final frenzy was not so difficult to understand.

Yet in response to Lady Arwyn's reasoning, Kal's gaze remained unwavering.

He shook his head and said, "My decision is made. The council is dismissed. Once you reach Storm's End, proceed strictly according to the plan. Remember—do not act rashly."

Seeing that the King could not be persuaded, the assembled nobles exchanged complicated looks with one another, then rose and departed.

However, at that moment, Kal suddenly called out to several of them.

"Lady Arwyn Oakheart, stay. And Baelor Hightower—Garlan, you as well."

Leaving behind his Kingsguard along with Lady Arwyn and the others, Kal waited until Arys and the rest had cleared the tent, ensuring that only those he had chosen remained. Only then did he nod again.

Kal looked at Lady Arwyn. "While I am away, this army will temporarily be placed under your command. Ser Garlan Tyrell and Ser Baelor Hightower will assist you."

With his very first words, Kal confirmed the chain of command for the army during his absence.

Seeing the King place such a heavy responsibility upon her shoulders, Lady Arwyn was first startled, then hastily went down on one knee.

In this social order, the fact that Kal had allowed her to participate continuously in military and political councils was already an act of exceptional grace. Yet now, he was actually entrusting her with command of the army.

How could Lady Arwyn not feel the depth of Kal's trust?

"House Oakheart obeys your command, Your Grace. I swear by the gods and by my own life that I will never fail your trust."

"Lady Arwyn, there is no need for such weighty words. Rise. I trust that you will not betray my confidence."

Kal smiled as he helped up the mother of his Kingsguard.

He then continued, patiently reminding her, "However, I must also caution you: if nothing unexpected occurs, I will be delayed in the North for some time. Therefore, after you and the Dornish forces have encircled Storm's End, you must remember—do not act rashly."

"You must give me your assurance. Renly's death is a lesson from the past. Under these circumstances, I do not wish to see any further needless tragedies."

Arys stood to the side, watching silently, his eyes filled with resolve.

Baelor and the others also nodded in silence, indicating that they would all cooperate with the head of House Oakheart—whose lordship over Old Oak had been restored by Kal.

In response to the King's caution and his regard for her life, Lady Arwyn solemnly affirmed that she would act exactly as he instructed.

"You may go now. Get some rest. I plan to depart tonight, so do not concern yourselves with me."

After the final arrangements were made, Lady Arwyn and the others withdrew from the great tent.

For a time, only Garlan and Arys—two of Kal's Kingsguard—remained inside.

Their duty was to protect the King.

"You two may go as well. Once you reach Storm's End, if possible, you are to protect Lord Eddard Stark and ensure that he does not suffer unjust treatment at the hands of Stannis Baratheon."

"If Stannis is still as upright as I believe him to be, he will agree to this."

"After all, my good-father, Lord Eddard Stark, is the Hand of the King—a title granted while Robert yet lived. He should not be treated in such a manner by Stannis."

Unexpectedly, the King still had such arrangements in mind for them. Garlan and the others could only nod in acknowledgment.

Before leaving, however, Arys had originally wanted to say something more. In the end, he swallowed his words and only said solemnly, "If Lord Eddard Stark is treated unjustly, it will be over my dead body."

The great army marching toward Storm's End had in fact only just departed Highgarden and was advancing in the direction of Bitterbridge. In order to avoid detours, their campaign plan called for following this route straight to Storm's End.

Along the way, they would pass Summerhall, where they would also rendezvous with the Dornish forces.

That night, Kal's army made camp along the banks of the Mander.

Stepping out of the great tent, Kal strolled down to the riverbank, gazing at the broad river before him.

He began to think silently.

"Setting White Harbor aside for the moment—and if I remember correctly, I already informed Lord Eddard Stark about the Iron Islands' possible moves, as well as Robb Stark, who is now a captive."

"And I discussed this matter with Tyrion more than once."

"So what exactly is going on now? How did Robb allow things to take such an unexpected turn?"

Kal could not understand where the North had gone wrong. But no matter how one looked at it, with the advance warnings he had given, the North—and Robb—should not have responded or handled matters in this way.

One had to remember that, precisely because he feared something like this might happen, Kal had previously issued direct orders—using the pretext that nothing must go wrong at the Wall—to mobilize the military forces of the Vale to intervene.

In his struggle for the throne, he had not relied on these additional forces at all. Everything he had gained so far had been carved out by his own blade, his own spear, and a dragon.

It could be said that, in his arrangements for the North, Kal had built in ample redundancy.

That was also why he had not devoted much attention to the North during this period.

Yet despite all that—despite everything he had done—the North, or rather Robb, had still run into trouble.

Now, the defeat in the Wolfswood and the loss of White Harbor—what those meant was something Kal could not possibly fail to understand.

With the Iron Islands and those mercenary companies acting in tandem, it could be said that, along the White Knife, the entire North had been torn into two.

Even though, with the Vale army already having entered northern territory, this kind of turmoil should only be temporary—and Balon Greyjoy's true purpose might indeed be, as Lady Arwyn Oakheart suggested, to press for some other set of demands—such a situation still should not have occurred.

So where, exactly, had things gone wrong?

Why was the North's response so sluggish?

It was as if it had been blindfolded and had its ears stopped up.

If Kal remembered correctly, Robb Stark was not such a dull-witted man.

Whether judging from his conduct in the original history, or from Kal's own interactions with him while at Winterfell, Kal understood that Robb was, at his core, an outstanding individual.

Though still young, the excellence at his core had already begun to show.

And though youth could lead to impulsiveness, under the degree of intervention Kal had exercised, no one should have been able to use something like a honey trap to divide him.

Moreover, the North's current dire situation was, in truth, not entirely caused by Tywin Lannister alone. Far more within it was tangled and complex.

This was also part of why Kal had chosen to directly deploy the forces of the Vale to intervene in the North.

Although Tywin remained the source of this calamity, he was, in fact, only the fuse.

"This time, every last scourge in the North must be wiped out in one sweep. Before winter arrives, the North must be restored to peace. I will tolerate no further accidents."

As Kal gazed at the flowing river, his eyes gradually grew cold and sharp.

And at that very moment, within the reflection on the water's surface, a colossal golden dragon appeared.

It swooped down from the sky. As if sensing the fury in Kal's heart, it unleashed a blast of dragonfire, then plunged straight through the surging flames, scattering boundless waves of heat as it descended to Kal's side.

A fierce wind whipped up the river, sending ripples spreading across the surface.

"Let's go. First, to Casterly Rock!"

Kal's short black hair fluttered as he turned to look at Robert, his expression calm as he spoke in a cold voice.

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