Riverrun.
Within the dimly lit tower, Robb Stark's expression was grave. A pile of letters lay scattered across the cold stone table before him, their contents weighing heavily on the young king's mind.
The earliest letter was from Ser Brynden, the Blackfish of Harrenhal. His scouts, deployed to monitor the castle's vicinity, had reported sightings of House Tarly's banner—a vivid green banner emblazoned with a red-clad hunter drawing a bow. Impossible to mistake.
Yet the House Tarly scouts themselves were elite soldiers—experienced, decisive, and quick to react. The Blackfish's men had been discovered before they could fully assess the enemy's movements. A skirmish had ensued; though the scouts fought bravely, they were outnumbered and forced to retreat, bringing word of the enemy's approach back to Harrenhal.
By the time Ser Brynden dispatched further scouts, the Tarly force had vanished. Their current location was unknown, and their numbers were estimated at seven or eight thousand men.
"Ruby Ford is garrisoned by the Dreadfort army," Robb mused aloud, eyes scanning the map before him. "It's flood season; they can hold it with very few men. So where are they heading? Saltpans?"
The thought made him shake his head in frustration. Seven or eight thousand men were too few to assault Saltpans effectively, and any army attempting such a move would face encirclement by both Harrenhal and Saltpans defenders. Robb refused to believe the enemy would make such a miscalculation. Randyll Tarly was a renowned general, not a fool.
A sudden bang interrupted his thoughts. The door burst open, and Lady Catelyn hurried in, her face a mask of worry and reproach.
Behind her followed a tall figure clad in heavy steel armor, a rarely-removed helmet obscuring her features, and an old seven-colored silk cloak draped over her shoulders. Brienne of Tarth.
"Robb!"
"Mother," Robb replied, looking up briefly. His expression, however, remained guarded; he quickly returned his gaze to the map.
"Why didn't you tell me the Iron Islands fleet has already invaded the North?!" Catelyn demanded, striding forward. Her sharp gaze fixed on her son, tracing the traces of a crown in his red hair and the shadow of a beard that had grown longer since his last campaign. She barely allowed him a moment to breathe before her barrage of questions continued.
"I told you not to let Theon Greyjoy return to the Iron Islands," she continued. "Keeping him here could have given Balon some apprehension."
"But you insisted on sending him as an envoy!"
"Now look! The entire North is under threat, and your two younger brothers—Bran, whose old injury hasn't healed, and Rickon, only four years old—are left to face it!"
Robb exhaled slowly, a feeling of déjà vu washing over him. He had heard similar warnings from Eddard Karstark before. For a moment, he glanced at Brienne, who nodded in understanding and quietly left the room, leaving him to deal with his mother.
"Mother, this has nothing to do with Theon," he said, his voice low but firm.
Catelyn froze, surprise flickering across her features.
"Theon died in Fairmarket after I left Riverrun as an envoy. According to Earl Jason's investigation, it was likely the work of the Westerlands rebels. His body was charred."
Catelyn's eyes widened, and a tremor ran through her voice. "Seven Gods!" she gasped.
"Whether Theon was sent back or not, the Iron Islands had already planned their attack."
"You won't even tell me such important news? I am your mother!" she cried, her tone sharp and wounded.
"You are my mother, always will be. But I am the King now," Robb replied, voice rising slightly. "Why can't you trust me to handle this? Why must you interfere with every decision I make?"
Catelyn's blue eyes, so like her family's, glistened with worry. Robb felt a pang of guilt but quickly pushed it aside. "Mother, Uncle Edmure has already gone to organize our forces. The loyal Reeds have reinforced Karin Bay. Even if Victarion, Balon's brother, commands the fleet, we can hold for a short while."
"I'm still worried!" Catelyn exclaimed. "Deepwood Motte has fallen! The villages of Stony Shore, Kraken's Point, and Riverrun have been plundered! What if they sail straight for Winterfell?"
Robb leaned back in his chair, trying to soothe her panic. "Winterfell is far from the coast. Maester Luwin once told me the Ironborn prefer not to abandon their ships. They will not march inland quickly."
"Then send out the troops! Every moment we wait puts Bran and Rickon at risk!"
Robb slumped, weary. "It's not that simple. News from King's Landing tells us that Joffrey is to marry Margaery Tyrell. That brings fifty thousand soldiers under his command. Most Riverland lords would rather defend their territories than march north with me."
Catelyn's brow furrowed. "What happened?"
Robb pushed the letters across the table, a mixture of anger and helplessness on his young face. Catelyn began reading them, her hands trembling slightly.
The Piper family, defenders of Golden Tooth, had only a thousand men, citing insufficient labor to maintain their lands. The Brackens, burned by Gregor Clegane, begged for aid but sent no troops. Seagard sent only a fraction of their forces. Maidenpool and Saltpans outright refused.
The Riverlands were offering barely three thousand men in total. Even Earl Tai Tuo Si's contingent of twelve hundred infantry and three hundred cavalry accounted for half of that meager total.
Robb clenched his fists. "I understand their fears—Tywin Lannister could strike again—but with Stannis in play, the risk is minimal. Still, their letters insistently say one thing: no."
Even sixteen-year-old Robb Stark felt the weight of their refusal. He couldn't compel obedience with force, and he couldn't bite sense into the stubborn lords, no matter how much Grey Wind might wish it. The direwolf, sensing his master's frustration, padded over and nuzzled his hand.
"It's alright, Grey Wind," Robb whispered, scratching behind the wolf's ears. "We'll manage."
Catelyn's tone remained urgent. "Robb, why not negotiate with King's Landing? This war has already cost your father, our family, and now your brothers are in danger. Why continue the fight?"
Robb's voice was edged with helplessness. "I sent terms! I dispatched an envoy. Tywin only returned Father's body. Nothing else."
"Then hand over Jaime and Kevan Lannister!" Catelyn pressed.
"My vassals will never agree."
"They were the ones who crowned you king!"
Robb shook his head. "And yet…"
Their argument was interrupted by the slamming of the wooden door. Edmure Knight burst in, urgency on his face. "Robb! A letter from Twin River City!"
Small Jon and Brienne followed, keeping pace with the chaos.
Robb seized the letter, his previous fatigue replaced with sudden alertness. The news it carried changed everything. House Frey had nearly four thousand soldiers near Riverrun; immediate action was required.
"Edmure, find Earl Jon, Earl Gaybert, and Earl Tai Tuo Si. We have urgent matters to address!" Robb commanded, his tone sharp, decisive.
"Right away!" Edmure replied, rushing out. Robb pressed his hand to his forehead, the weight of decisions and responsibility pressing down on him like never before.
Catelyn, still confused, asked quietly, "Robb, what happened?"
"Mother, stay with Grandfather. I have very important matters to attend to now."
Robb's eyes hardened. Grey Wind, sensing his master's resolve, let out a mournful howl, as if warning any who dared approach.
The young king of the North had no time to argue further. Every second now could decide the fate of his family and his kingdom.
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