The early morning sky shone like newly polished sapphire, the night's heavy rain leaving the air crisp and clean. Wisps of white clouds floated lazily above, like delicate ribbons drifting over the horizon. Slowly, the sun rose from the eastern forest, casting a warm, golden light across the Riverlands.
On the King's Road, Northern soldiers gathered under the Sunburst Star banner, preparing for their journey north. They would cross Karin Bay and head straight to Winterfell, deep in the North. Eddard stood on the city wall, his black woolen cloak whipping in the morning wind, eyes following the steady stream of mounted soldiers as they assembled.
He descended the stairs, silver plate armor catching the sunlight, the black tower and golden sun emblazoned proudly on his chest. His five-foot-long sword, known as "Heartbreaker," rested firmly in his hands. Dita Kalander handed him the reins, and with a swift motion, Eddard swung onto his horse, leading the procession out of the city along the wide streets of Twin River City.
The clatter of hooves grew louder, merging into a thunderous roar as a hundred heavy cavalry clad in plate and chainmail surged forward, black cloaks flapping behind them like shadows. Outside the East City, two other units had long been waiting.
The first, under the banner of the black tower and golden sun on a silver field, consisted of six hundred cavalrymen in gleaming chainmail. They raised long spears like a forest of shining blades. Many carried swords, meteor hammers, spiked maces, and even bows and javelins, preparing for both close and ranged combat.
The second unit was less disciplined, a colorful collection of men under a dozen different banners: black boars, red and green mistletoe, golden herons, and spinning waterwheels, all fluttering in the breeze. The three groups merged seamlessly, forming long, disciplined queues on either side of the road, totaling over a thousand riders.
Eddard did not linger at the city gate. His horse carried him northward along the King's Road, leaving Twin River City behind.
The lesson of The Smalls Family had spread like wildfire. Dio Small and his son had been slain after attempting to defy Eddard, their rebellion crushed without mercy. The surviving noble families of the River Crossing trembled in fear. Hed of Hedgerow Village, Turner of Oatfield Manor, Bert of Timber Hall, Buniel of Wicker Town, and Buck of Horn Hill had received ample warning to submit voluntarily. Their silence was, in Eddard's eyes, an invitation for consequences.
High above, the Black Feather soared across the sky, its black wings slicing the air as it watched over the winding road that stretched through forests, fields, and rivers. The thousand-strong cavalry marched in formation, leaving deep tracks in the muddy ground, their horses' neighs echoing through the quiet villages they passed.
By midday, Eddard reached Hedgerow Village. Dozens of villagers had bound their hands and knelt at the village entrance. Among them was a small girl, no older than thirteen, kneeling at the forefront with wide, wary eyes.
Eddard approached, his voice firm and commanding. "Alianna, where is your uncle?"
Alianna, trembling slightly but keeping her composure, answered calmly, "My lord, as soon as your messenger arrived, my uncle and his son fled. They must have sought refuge with Aemon Frey of the Westerlands. I have nowhere to go and could not leave—I am not yet thirteen, and I cannot wield a sword or ride a horse. The remaining soldiers refused to escort me, fearing they might be executed alongside my family."
Eddard studied her, his mind briefly recalling his own original plan: to punish these minor nobles decisively, completing his play from start to finish. Yet, facing a child, he realized he could not order her execution. That would be cruelty beyond measure.
Matthew, a young knight who had returned safely from Dorne alongside Abel, appeared beside him. His eyes widened as Eddard suddenly asked, "Matthew, are you married?"
"No, my lord," he answered, startled.
"Then you shall marry her," Eddard declared, pointing at Alianna. "Your father openly rebelled at the banquet, attempting to defy my orders. He will take the black and serve at The Wall. You will marry this loyal subordinate and help manage Hedgerow Village in my name. Do you accept this judgment?"
Alianna hesitated, then looked up, her eyes shining with gratitude. "Yes, my lord, I accept. Thank you for your mercy."
The soldiers and villagers behind her showed relief, kneeling and murmuring their obedience. Matthew dismounted, kneeling in respect. "My lord, I shall serve you faithfully. I will care for her and this village."
Eddard nodded, speaking to the system: with one word, the lordship of Hedgerow Village had transferred to Matthew. His loyalty rating instantly became Excellent, confirming the effectiveness of Eddard's command.
"Rise," Eddard ordered, and the villagers complied. "Prepare for the wedding once this matter is settled."
With Hedgerow Village secured, Eddard turned his horse and set out toward Oatfield Manor. Behind him, his companions teased Matthew good-naturedly. McKen laughed, "Not only a knight, but now a husband too. Life's treating you well, lad!"
Karas Snow added, "She's fair to look at. When the wedding night comes, we'll have some fun teasing you, no holding back."
Even the usually quiet Paine and steady Dita Kalander joined in the laughter, easing the grim mood that had hung over the army. These were men who had fought, bled, and served faithfully. Their rewards—fiefs and villages—were approaching.
Not all families were so compliant. Turner of Oatfield Manor had vanished, taking their remaining soldiers and wealth to Horn Hill. The Bert family of Timber Hall followed the same path.
Eddard bypassed Wicker Town and rode straight for Horn Hill, where the Buniel family had gathered their remaining men under a white banner with a willow tree. Over a hundred infantrymen in boiled leather armor protected wagons filled with supplies.
"Catch them! Kill anyone who resists!" Eddard commanded.
Cavalry surged forward like a tide, scattering the Buniel soldiers. Some surrendered, kneeling with hands bound; others fled, only to be cut down by spears or hunted into the woods.
Lounde Buniel, the heir, was dragged from his horse and thrown onto the muddy road by Lando. Mud and filth stuck to his face and beard.
"Cruel fellow! Kill me if you dare!" he spat defiantly, blood mixing with the dirt. "I know the Buck family's plan. Give me a chance to atone!"
Eddard's expression remained unreadable. "Silence this fool."
Lando kicked Lounde in the mouth, teeth and a small piece of tongue flying out. The heir's defiance crumbled, replaced with terror. He was lassoed by the neck and hung from a crooked roadside tree, lifeless before long.
"Take the supplies and prisoners. We move on to Horn Hill," Eddard ordered, and the army advanced like a river, passing forests, villages, and startled wildlife.
By dusk, the fortified city of Horn Hill appeared, perched atop a hill with steep slopes and stone walls barely ten meters high. Loopholes dotted the walls, and two ballistae gleamed under the setting sun. Flags of the Buck, Turner, and Bert families flew from the battlements, signaling their defiance.
Eddard's thousand cavalry surrounded the fortress completely. "Send men to levy commoners, bring tools and livestock. I want them here by morning!" he commanded sternly. Knights rode off to their assigned tasks, astonishment written across their faces.
Worton Brown, observing the fortress, shook his head. "They'll starve themselves into submission," he muttered. "They have no hope of escape, no room to grow crops, no access to supplies. Madness."
Eddard's strategy was simple and absolute: compliance or annihilation. With patience, cunning, and a show of strength, the Riverlands would learn the price of defiance. And Horn Hill was merely the next act in a play that had only just begun.
The sun sank behind the western mountains, and the shadows of the fortress stretched long across the valley, a silent reminder of the power now wielded by Eddard Karstark.
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