It had only been a few days of clear weather, and now a relentless downpour battered Twin River City again.
Lando stood atop the city tower, frowning as the curtain of rain cascaded from the gray sky, soaking banners, turning the streets into rivers of mud, and drumming against the stone walls. The Green Fork River, swollen by the storm, churned violently, waves colliding and merging with the raindrops. Somewhere in the North, snow was probably falling.
Lando thought briefly of his home in Karhold: a warm hearth, sensible children, and a wife who could be fierce to outsiders yet gentle and tender in private. The contrast made his chest tighten, and anger welled up in his heart.
Damn it. Those cursed Lannisters!
That cursed Joffrey!
That cursed Iron Throne!
That cursed Tywin!
That cursed Cersei!
He clenched his fists, but quickly realized he had no one left to vent his fury upon. Names alone could not express the chaos and frustration surging within him.
"Captain, look!" a soldier shouted, raising his arm toward the south.
Lando's eyes followed the gesture. Through the rain, a troop of cavalry emerged, their soaked warhorses trudging through the mud toward the city. At first, disbelief registered on Lando's face before he bellowed, "Be on alert! Prepare for battle!" His voice almost drowned the relentless pounding of the rain.
The soldiers, recently sheltered from the storm, cursed at the weather and rushed to assemble. Their soaked uniforms clung to them, and the spears in their hands slicked with water, making them difficult to grip.
As the cavalry drew closer, the black banner of House Karstark strained against the wind, revealing the white sunburst that marked Eddard's arrival.
Eddard lifted his hood and opened his visor, water cascading down his tense features. Even though his body had been enhanced by training and magic, the cold rain still sent shivers through him.
"It's Lord Eddard! Quickly lower the drawbridge and open the gates!" Lando shouted, recognizing his lord immediately. He sprinted down to the city gate, heart pounding with relief. Despite never doubting Eddard's skill, seeing him return safely was a joy beyond words.
Even though the Northern forces had been reduced in number by nearly a sixth, the arrival of their commander was enough to lift morale.
Eddard dismounted, handing the reins to Lando, and asked, "Has anything happened in the city while I was gone?"
The merchant caravans traveling between north and south had long vanished, leaving only the city's residents behind. Eddard had spent two days and a night on his journey, returning from the forest before the Reach army could arrive. Any disturbance now could be catastrophic.
Lando nodded, a grim expression crossing his face. "Yes, less than half a day after you left, rumors spread. Someone claimed tens of thousands of Iron Throne soldiers were marching toward Twin River City, urging the residents to flee. Many abandoned their work, fearing hanging once the city fell."
Eddard raised an eyebrow. "Who was responsible? Were they caught?"
"House Frey's steward and his son," Lando whispered. "They disappeared after our forces occupied the city. At the time, we hadn't plundered extensively and had hired many residents to help with labor, so they managed to hide. Reports came in later, and Freya led soldiers to search house by house. They're now locked in the dungeon awaiting your decision."
Even amid chaos, many city residents had worked diligently, earning copper and silver stags or receiving food after the battle. Yet, some were willing to betray others for personal safety.
"Lando," Eddard said firmly, "have Freya hang the steward and his son at the East Gate. Those who assisted them—twenty lashes in the East Plaza for all to see, then drag them to the West City for another twenty lashes tomorrow. If they survive, assign them to continuous labor. Let no one in this city gossip in shadows again."
Even if the rumors were true, he added silently.
Lando nodded quickly. "Yes, Lord."
Eddard's gaze shifted to Randyll Tarly, tied securely to his horse. "Scholar Bennet," he said, "arrange for the city to hear that I have captured the enemy commander, Count Randyll Tarly, the famed general of the Reach, and even their family sword, Heartbreaker, is now mine. Without their leader, the enemy will falter like sheep without a shepherd. Make the story inspiring, one that strengthens morale and courage."
"Yes, Lord," Lando replied, glancing back at the prisoner. Even he could see that Eddard had accomplished something extraordinary. The renowned Count of Horn Hill, subdued and captured, was proof of his lord's cunning and skill.
Eddard removed his helmet and nodded to the guards, then walked toward the military camp in the East City. He needed warmth, food, and a brief respite from the relentless storm.
Inside a large, rain-soaked tent, a bonfire burned fiercely in a half-meter-deep fire pit, driving off the chill. Steam rose from hot food and wine, but the atmosphere remained tense.
"Deacon, your father has been captured," Count Matthus of Goldengrove said sharply, spittle flying as he spoke. "Tywin's plan has been exposed. Twin River City has been occupied by the Northmen. This war is in danger. Do you understand?"
Deacon Tarly, his face pale and his lips tightly pressed, stared at the steaming broth in front of him. His father's capture, coupled with the Northern occupation, had thrown him into quiet panic. Three thousand elite soldiers, plus dozens of knights, watched their young lord for guidance. One misstep could ruin House Tarly entirely.
Count Matthus continued, "We should return to King's Landing, send ravens with gold or food to ransom your father from House Karstark. Remaining here, in the rain and mud, is madness!"
Ser Marldune of Highgarden, responsible for logistics, spoke next. "Our supplies are insufficient. Villages are emptied, likely moved ahead by the enemy. If we remain, the soldiers may soon be forced to gnaw on leaves and bark to survive."
The tent erupted into debate. Knights and commanders argued over honor, survival, and the practicality of continued engagement.
"Face or life? Which matters more?" one knight shouted.
"Honor cannot be sacrificed!" another cried.
"Return now, and live!" a third countered.
Ser Yohn Gullen's voice rang out, cutting through the chaos. "We cannot leave! Count Randyll Tarly is captured. To abandon the battle now would make Horn Hill and House Tarly the laughingstock of the Reach!"
Deacon Tarly nodded gravely. "I will not abandon this fight. My soldiers will still attack Twin River City."
Count Matthus shook his head. "You do not understand. The enemy knows our position. Our objective is Robb Stark and his forces—not Twin River City. Without numbers, without your father, and with House Frey compromised, even if you take the city, how will you defeat the Northmen?"
Deacon remained silent, his jaw tight, weighing every word.
The entire tent fell quiet. The tension was suffocating—then Roose Bolton, standing to the side, spoke softly. "My lords, there is no choice. We cannot leave. Our only option is to attack Twin River City."
His voice, calm and low, hit the tent like thunder. The argument ended as abruptly as it had begun, leaving each man with the chilling reality that there would be no escape from the storm of war.
Outside, the rain fell harder, turning the roads into rivers, the city into a fortress of mud and water. Inside, tension, fear, and conflicting loyalties churned like the storm. Twin River City had become more than a battleground—it had become a mirror of chaos itself, where men's hearts wavered between honor, survival, and despair.
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