From the moment he became King, Robb Stark swore to be a good ruler. He would not only value honor like his father but also be strong and just. He would treat his friends with loyalty, bravely fight his enemies, and be gentle with his family. He would do everything in his power to rescue his sister and return to the North with his family and his father's remains.
As for Joffrey, that nauseating king, and that pretentious queen—let House Baratheon deal with them. The North and the Riverlands would govern themselves, bowing to no one and no throne. This was what he had promised, and what many vassals were eager to see.
Thinking of this, a hint of relief appeared in Robb Stark's eyes.
Eddard did not respond to the suggestion that the war was over.
Over?
My dear little king, you've witnessed your father's tragic death—how can your thoughts still be so naive?
Even if this plan succeeds, this war, this game of thrones, would be far from over.
So, wear your bronze crown and play slowly with those other kings.
"Eddard, your advice and reminders have dispelled my hesitation and completed the plan. Inviting you was indeed the right choice," Robb Stark said in high spirits, reaching out to pat Eddard's shoulder.
"From now on, I will need you by my side to discuss the upcoming battle plans."
He had once prayed in the Godswood, asking the gods for guidance. The Old Gods did not reply. He had never heard of anyone receiving divine revelation. But now, Robb felt that his discovery of Eddard's talent was an answer from the gods.
In the North, it was rare to find someone with such meticulous thoughts.
"Hmm."
Eddard lightly agreed, thinking that young people indeed didn't understand the art of managing subordinates. How can a leader only give responsibilities without offering rewards? At least paint a grand picture, promise me a fiefdom!
Immediately, Eddard changed his mind—better to ask than to wait.
"Your Grace," Eddard blinked and looked at the King of the North. "In that case, could you grant me a suitable title so that, in times of crisis, I can conveniently offer useful advice?"
This was merely a pretext. Eddard's real motive was to see if his [Identity] could be changed from [Son of a Count] and how it might affect his [Troop Slots].
"Oh?" Robb Stark raised an eyebrow. "Karstark, what title do you want?"
Eddard thought for a few seconds. "Your Grace, since my main job is to advise you on military affairs, the title of Military Advisor would suffice."
It was an impromptu idea.
"Good. Karstark, then from today onwards, you are my Military Advisor," Robb agreed readily. "If you wish, I can keep a position for you by my side and pay you a monthly salary of one gold dragon."
With a title came income. Eddard had no land in the North. He was Rickard's son, but not a vassal of Winterfell. A salary would suffice.
"Your Grace, since you are now the King of the North and King of the Trident, the Karstark boy should be Hand of the King," Ser Brynden "Blackfish" Tully interjected.
The title "Hand of the King" certainly sounded more prestigious.
"Then let it be Hand of the King," Robb declared.
"Thank you, Your Grace."
As Eddard bowed, a line of text appeared in the corner of his vision:
[Identity change detected: Hand of the King]
[Troop Slots: 5 / 10]
Ha, a change indeed—five more troop slots.
"No need to be so polite. Let's end here for today. If all goes well, we depart soon," Robb said. "Eddard Karstark, if you have time, go see your father. Lord Rickard has been deep in thought in the Godswood."
"I understand."
But instead of going to the Godswood, Eddard headed for the inner castle gate.
Time is tight, and the task is heavy!
If the army was to depart soon, then two major events on the Stark side were approaching:
1. Lady Catelyn would travel to the Stormlands to seek an alliance with House Baratheon. Unfortunately, she would return empty-handed, witness Renly's death, and bring back Brienne of Tarth.
2. Theon Greyjoy would travel to the Iron Islands for aid. Instead, his father Balon would betray the Starks and order an invasion of the North. Theon would later take Winterfell using deceit, kill Bran and Rickon's stand-ins, and plunge Robb into disaster.
Eddard had no desire to interfere with the first. He lacked the strength to handle that explosive red priestess.
But the second—there was room to maneuver.
Theon Greyjoy wouldn't behave during the journey to Seagard. A fool in major matters and a scumbag in minor ones—he was bound to cause trouble.
An opportunity.
Just as Eddard pondered how to kill Theon, a shadow blocked his path.
Daisy Mormont again.
"Anything else?" he asked irritably.
How many times had she stopped him now?
"My mother wants to invite you for a drink," Daisy said, forcing a smile that looked worse than crying.
"Where?"
"Qingteng Tavern."
"Lead the way."
Ten minutes later, Eddard entered a private room.
Lady Maege Mormont, still in chainmail, sat calmly on a wooden couch. Her grey-black eyes watched him enter.
"Karstark boy, how do you know Jorah Mormont is alive and in Essos?"
Eddard halted, then retorted, "Lady Maege, I heard your five daughters were all born with a bear. Even in the North, that's hard to believe. I'm curious how that works."
Dodging the question irritated Maege, but she replied dryly, "Boy, that's none of your business."
"Yes, Lady Maege. And Jorah's whereabouts? That's none of your business either."
Maege twitched, then asked, "Do you know his exact location?"
Eddard pondered. The Red Comet should soon appear. Daenerys had likely lost her brother and her husband would soon die. Searching for her group now in the Red Waste would be foolish. Best to wait in Qarth.
"I think I can deduce it, but I don't see why I should share it."
He glanced at Daisy. She'd caused him trouble, and she wasn't too bright.
"Gold dragons? Weapons? Bear Island can—"
"No, Lady Maege," Eddard interrupted. "I cannot be bought with money. That would be an insult."
"Then what do you want, Eddard Karstark?"
"An apology. For your words and actions toward a father who just lost his son. Do that, and I'll tell you where Jorah is."
He didn't want Karhold. That was Hallion's right. But favor from Lord Rickard had long-term value.
Maege hesitated. Daisy gripped her sword hilt tightly. Abel and Dita Kalander followed suit.
After several gulps of wine, Maege said, "Alright. I agree."
Either Jorah would return, die, or take the black. For that, she could lower her pride.
"Good."
Eddard sat, poured a glass of Arbor gold, and began to speak.
He described Jorah's wife leaving him, his mercenary work, and his wandering with a nomadic tribe. The details were too precise to be fabricated.
"According to my intel, you'd best wait in Yunkai or Meereen. That's where they'll stay the longest."
He added, "Bring gold and good fighters. Otherwise, you'll become slaves."
Maege wanted to ask where he got his intel, but recalled his earlier response—"None of your business."
Instead, she said, "Tonight, I'll apologize to your father."
"Thank you, Lady Maege. If there's nothing else, I'll take my leave."
Eddard rose and left with Abel and Dita Kalander.
Outside, Abel pointed to the sky.
A massive red comet blazed across the heavens like a scimitar slashing the sky, weeping blood.
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