It's been two days since Robb led part of the army north. Master Galbart Glover was left in charge and we were waiting for our injured to heal.
Well, not completely heal, just enough for them to be able to walk.
After the battle, more and more smallfolk wanted to join our army. We took them, some of them as soldiers, the artisans and blacksmiths as workers.
We had a surplus of weapons and coin thanks to looting the Lannister camp. Their camp followers were scared shitless when Ser Brynden took his men to secure the camp.
The knight was wise enough to just target the arm bearers and went straight for noble tents to secure the loot, completely ignoring the camp followers. Some men went against his orders of no senseless killings or rape, and were hanged when found.
After that, the Lannister camp followers were left alone and dissolved soon after. If anyone noticed how our camp followers increased in numbers, no one said anything.
It was close to midday and the soldiers were drilling. The men were practicing their formations and swinging and thrusting their weapons with a fervor I didn't expect. The first day, almost half of the men ended up crawling back to the camp, completely exhausted. It was a funny view, kind of disturbing, but funny.
Disturbing because… I don't know how to put it… Why did they put themselves through that? Was it because the Karstark, Manderly and Stark 'elites' were praised and cheered on? Was it because they heard the nobles they serve asked them to do so? Did the riverlanders wanted to show their value?
In short, I didn't quite understood their absolute fervor. It was fine though, maybe, probably, hopefully.
Whatever, it was a maybe future problem.
Walking through the camp, I had a destination in mind. Some of the nobles were injured in the battle, and this noble in particular, had a very loud and insistent sister.
Some people are just unlucky I guess, somehow or another Dacey Mormont had bruised her ribs when she clashed with the Lannister center in the final cavalry charge.
The acolyte with a silver link in medicine Robb left in the camp, forbade the Mormont heir from riding horses for a week. In my first visit, Dacey told me the original ban was for a fortnight, but with her best Maege Mormont's slightly-displeased gaze made the man fold and cut the ban to a week. I deadpanned at my idiotic friend for a while, but sadly I didn't have my Father's are-you-a-fool gaze, so she shrugged it off with a smirk.
Next visit I tried to reason with her, "The acolyte could've been wrong and your ribs are cracked not bruised." Or, "You're going to hurt yourself more," or the classic, "better safe than sorry." When it was clear it wasn't working, I moved to her injured side, put my hand in her shoulder and pushed, just a little. Dacey did her best not to wince, winced and gave me a hateful glare.
After that exchange I vowed to make my idiot of a friend see reason. Or at least being able to stand and stretch without wincing before defying medical orders. Tall task, I know.
However, I believe I found a way to convince her.
As I approach the Mormont tent, Ghost finds me. I think the greedy direwolf went off to hunt after having his breakfast and extorting me of a chicken leg.
"Ghost, you…" nah, It's not worth it. "Come here you greedy wolf, at least you are well behaved."
He grunted in response.
There are a few things that changed about my ability as a skinchanger after the battle. I'm not entirely sure what was the catalyst for the change so I'll keep exploring the limits.
As I was thinking on exactly what and how to test, I saw Dacey and Jorelle sitting by their tent in front of a small table. Ghost ran past me, probably to extort some more food from the Mormont sisters as they are having lunch.
"Lady Dacey, Lady Jorelle, It's good to see you resting and taking care of yourselves." I said in plural.
Jorelle smirked at her sister, and Dacey's gaze soured as they both understood who my totally innocent and not at all pointed words were for.
"Hi Jon," replied Jorelle. "Glad you are here. I was about to go and join the noon training sessions, but someone was very clingy and wanted to come along," she threw a bone to Ghost.
I took a boulder right of Dacey for seat.
"Jory! I just can't bear to do nothing. At least practice here with me."
"I can't sis. Remember what Mother said? She'd have my hide if she finds out I let you swing your mace before you are healthy."
Unexpectedly, Lady Mormont was a mama bear? Well I mean, that'd be just too on the nose given the Mormont sigil right? But at the same time, Tywin is infamous for his inflated pride.
"…She doesn't have to find out," mutters Dacey.
Jorelle lets out a long suffering sigh, "She always finds out. Remember back when she left to pacify the squids? Someone decided to use steel swords in the yard."
"That was one time Jory, one."
"One time she says… What about the mutton pie incident, hmm?"
"Hey, that was Aly!"
"Ah yes, Mother took that explanation sooo well didn't she?"
I had the sudden urge to interrupt, "Alright, listen. Before I somehow end up dead, I got something to distract you", I pulled a board from my backpack. No satchel or pouch for me! Backpack supremacy all the way.
Both sisters turned from each other to see what I'm pulling out. I flipped the iron latch open, pulled out the pieces and unfolded the board over the table.
"This", I said looking at both sisters, "is checkers, I used to play it with my siblings in Winterfell."
"Is it like cyvasse?" asks Jorelle, in a nervous tone.
"Nah, cyvasse is way too complicated. In checkers you only have one type of piece." I started placing the wood pieces, red and yellow. "Lady Dacey, we can play while your sister is away. You'll understand the rules by game one."
Jorelle stayed a while for the rules and left with her poleaxe.
As expected, Dacey got the rules pretty fast and by game three she was already plotting revenge.
"It's just your third game, my lady. I'm sure you'll win against me in time."
"Well, I'm winning now. Also, stop with the 'my lady this', 'my lady that'. It's tiring."
She was competitive, I guess it shouldn't surprise me, I saw her in the training yard after all. And last game, I may have triggered her when I did a successive capture when she was getting cocky. "Are you sure? It could give the wrong impression to some people."
"Aly already told you, didn't she? We are from the North, no one cares," she said, preparing a trap on the edges of the board. "Besides, I already call you by your name, Lord Castellan of the Moat."
"Fine then," I'm move a back piece to stop her trap and let my side open. "By the way, I'm sorry for yesterday."
"Hhm? Oh, don't worry about it. I'll get payback some other time," that's totally not worrying.
"Well, I'm still sorry. Think of the board and pieces as an apology."
She tilted her head, "Sooo, you waited for me to like the game before giving it to me?"
"Yeah."
"What if I didn't like it?"
"I would've come back tomorrow with another thing."
The game went on. Her trap didn't quite work but an assault on that side crowned her piece and made her victorious.
"You were right, I like this game," said the happy She-bear.
I rolled my eyes at my lanky friend and we arranged the pieces for next game.
"So, about riding a horse…"
"This again," she groaned. "The acolyte said a week and I'm resting a week"
"Listen, I get that," I dealt with a few stubborn types already. "Your sister and I are worried, but we understand that you are a grown woman too."
"Oh? So no more nagging then," she said moving the first piece.
"Kind of," I moved a piece from the center. "How about a bet?"
She narrowed her eyes, "A bet you say?" she moved her second piece. "What kind of bet, Wolfboy," she smirked.
I pushed a sigh down. I can't show it affects me or she'll double down. "Nothing much, Dacey. If you win against me before your week ban is over, then I won't say a thing about you riding a horse. I'll even help you talk Lady Jorelle down."
"Heh. Well, I'm getting the hang of the game, Wolfboy." It seems my poker face still needs some work. "I accept."
"If you lose, you won't be riding for the original fortnight. Sounds good?"
"Sure. That's fair," she finished with a confident smile.
Hook, line and sinker.
Now, time to demolish her. Someone has to pay for that hideous nickname and, sadly for Dacey, Alysane was not here.
###
By the time Galbart Glover ordered us to march, most of the injured soldiers had either recovered or succumbed to their wounds.
From the nobles, Lord Cerwyn had a broken arm and a cut on his shoulder. His cut was disinfected with high grade alcohol derived from the firewater refineries so he should be relatively healthy, all things considered.
For the common soldiers, they were seen to by the Winterfell acolyte's apprentices and a gaggle of woods witches. While I don't particularly trust on their 'magic', at least they know enough of herb-craft to help the wounded. It also helped they used the same alcohol to clean wounds.
Not the most pleasant of experiences, but I bet it is way better than dying of infection.
I just left a meeting with the best, at least according to Hatten, troupe of bards. I commissioned a song for the Young Wolf and the Lion, or something similar I don't want to put much constraints on them. I only need the song to be as catchy as possible. Doing propaganda without massive media is already hard, I don't need to make it harder.
"I thought you promised your brother you wouldn't be commissioning a song?" said Dacey.
"Ah, I never said such a thing. I threatened to commission a song if he didn't stop being all broody. He didn't stop, so I'm just following through," I shrugged.
Jorelle stifled a laugh, but kept walking.
"…You devious… cheater!" said Dacey. "First you cheat me in our bet and now you cheat your own brother?"
"First of all I didn't cheat in our bet. I'm just more experienced in the game than you. As for-"
"You let me win the third game!"
"Nope, I was playing to teach. Would you go all out in the training yard against your sister Lyanna?"
I could see my answer didn't go well, Dacey's hands went to her sides looking for a mace and shield that weren't there.
I searched my memories for ways to calm her down, my treacherous brain answered with a "tell her to 'calm down'". Thankfully for me I had learned to ignore my knee jerk response at times like this.
The second thing that my brain supplied was "tell her it was for her own good". Was I sabotaging myself? That kind of response gets people killed.
Before Dacey realized she didn't have any weapons on her, I spoke: "Fine, it was bad. In my defense, Jorelle didn't know how to stop you from hurting yourself so she came to me."
Third option, throw someone else to the wolves.
"Jory!" Dacey turned to her sister.
"Jon!" Jorelle turned to me with righteous fury written all over her face.
"I have to see to some matters about our prisoners, seeyoulaterbye."
I slipped off my way to a horse and rode off to see matters of our captives. By the time I return, Dacey and Jorelle would be calm, or at least not murderous, hopefully.
After I won the bet, I offered to walk along Dacey for the original fortnight. To soften the blow so to speak. Jorelle jumped in and Dacey was appeased at the time.
So in my return, I believe that, at most, I'll get called that atrocious nickname more often. And probably all would end with the promise of a spar or two.
There was an exception we agreed upon about the appeasement: moving around the marching column due to having to attend to a duty or another, I could ride a horse. Hence, my riding away is absolutely not cheating.
I reached the middle of the column and dismounted. A stable boy took the reins of my horse and guided it away.
"So Hatten, any interesting prisoners left?"
"We did find someone interesting, as you say, my lord."
That made my eyebrows rise, "The way you say it, makes it sound as if we misplaced the heir of a great House." The big wig nobles were sent with Robb to stay either in the Twins or all the way in Moat Cailin.
"No, nothing like that, my lord." He was acting weird. Hatten hadn't called me 'my lord' twice in a row in ages.
"Well, out with it. It's not like we can send the man to Robb so we are stuck with him."
"It's not what you are thinking, my lord. It's just that… the knight got rid of all his sigils before the prisoners were identified. He also gave a false name when first questioned. It was only due to other prisoners that we learned of his name. Ser Amory Lorch is in our custody, my lord."
One of Tywin's commanders, as far as I know the man was a beast when raiding, but that still doesn't explain Hatten's mood.
Before I could question him, he sighed deeply and said: "A lot of our captives are scared, my lord. Especially the common folk we captured from Ser Marbrand's wing. They fear you, my lord. They have nightmares with your direwolf and wake up screaming in the middle of the night. From those men, there's a couple of men-at-arms, greybeards both, who identified Ser Amory," Hatten got closer and lowered his voice, "They say that back in the sack of King's Landing, Ser Amory was under Lord Tywin's orders when he killed princess Rhaenys. Half a hundred stabs, they said."
This… this was… Father never went over the details. And I'm certain all he knew was that Lannister men committed the atrocity, not the names of the ones who did it.
"What about prince Aegon and princess Elia?"
"The same men confirmed the Mountain was responsible for that, also under Lord Tywin's orders."
I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do. My first thought is to hang Ser Amory, but would that accomplish anything? The Lannisters would deny the crime. If I gather the Northern nobles and make Ser Amory confess, I'd still have the same issue. Enemies finding your past crimes? How very convenient.
"Keep them quiet, I'll talk with Master Galbart once we stop for the night," I said and walked back to the Mormont sisters.
###
They had passed Oldstones few days ago.
A light breeze rustled the forest, filling the night with whispers. And they were ready.
Together with the Mallisters, the Freys, hedge knights, small lords, freeriders and stragglers from the battle in Riverrun, his cavalry numbered six thousand eight hundred. Meanwhile the infantry marching through Fairmarket was eight thousand strong.
The Freys joining him had been a surprise. Well, not precisely a surprise, it was the Lord of the Crossing change of attitude the second time they had an audience what gave him pause.
The man had not been happy when seeing them for the second time and less happy seeing his sons by Robb's side. But, as people said, Lord Frey was an opportunist. Ready to throw his lot with the winner's side.
So, when Lord Frey honored the deal, allowed them to cross and pledged his swords, Robb was tempted to ignore his mother's counsel. "Your lord father always preferred friends," she said. "I don't like Lord Frey either, but he controls the only usable bridge across the Green Fork."
Still, honoring such a man, left Robb a bitter taste in his mouth.
When discussing the crossing with his lords beforehand, Ser Wylis made an astute observation, "It is desirable to appease Lord Frey, and at the same time make him aware his shortcomings shall not be tolerated. My lord, you have some of his sons in your service, honor them instead and allow Lord Walder claim you are honoring him."
It was a balancing act. Robb needed to 'be generous' but not overtly so, else he displeased his Northern lords.
Ser Wylis graciously took care of a part of the strain. He'd take Jammos, his wife Sallei, his sister Tyta and his three sons as part of the Manderly household. "My girls will like the company and my father will enjoy teaching young pages once again," the Manderly heir said with a smile. "Besides, Ser Jammos drinks like a true northman."
As for the baseborn sons of Lord Frey, they asked to be part of his household. Robb accepted and their families were traveling to the North together with Ser Jammos' own.
As a last 'honor' to Lord Frey, Robb took Olyvar as his squire. When all was said and done, they left the Twins.
There was one thing that prickled Robb's instincts. So he took Ryk to the side and asked him to find out why these Freys wanted to leave their House behind.
His brother told him Ryk had a talent for gathering information and sent him to serve by his side. On first view no one would suspect a man who looked as if he was built for war to have that kind of talent, but two days after being tasked, he came to Robb with an answer, "Black Walder, my lord. Ser Jammos' wife is terrified of him. The man has a reputation for being dangerous."
Robb would have to be careful with him then. Black Walder had joined his army under Ser Stevron after all.
As for his infantry, Robb had left it in the command of Lord Bolton. They were to follow the Red Fork and in the unlikely case the Riverrun siege wasn't resolved, they would either reinforce his forces or block the Lannister forces a safe retreat east and south.
However, everyone agreed that the infantry would, most like, retake castles that fell to the lions.
On the other hand, the cavalry had the task to face the Kingslayer and break the siege. A task that sounded daunting if one didn't know what befell to Lord Tywin's army.
Robb was of the mind to first find where his uncle Edmure was being held, and then strike the Westerlanders from two fronts. One serving as distraction and the other with the task to retrieve the Riverrun heir.
Issue was, his uncle Brynden had pointed, prodding of that sort would alert the Kingslayer of their plans. "He is a prideful and impatient man, but he is not without wits," his uncle had said. And Robb devised another set of plans.
The Blackfish took three hundred men with Tully banners to attack the northernmost camp, they hoped to draw the Kingslayer but expected to just find his scouts. "He has ridden out with his knights thrice already, chasing raiders or storming a resilient holdfast," his uncle had informed. "But he will be cautious if news of his father's defeat reached him, so let's not wager it all on this."
And so, they waited. Hoping for a lion to fall in their trap.
A breeze hit his back and he felt the air change. They are close.
He turned, "Hal, keep my lady mother safe."
"With my life," the man vowed, his voice full of conviction. Robb nodded.
He sent a final glance to his lady mother, searching for her eyes. For a second, he wished to be back in Winterfell with his brothers Bran and Rickon, to ride and hunt in the Wolfswood, even holding court didn't sound as dreadful anymore. For a second, he wanted to be a scared boy seeking comfort in his mother's arms on a stormy night.
He turned before the knot in his chest could convince him otherwise.
To his right, Olyvar Frey handed him his helmet and strapped his shield. Grey Wind nudged him and he felt himself calming slowly while petting his direwolf.
His battle guard formed around him, some tense, some in complete focus.
"Ready for another legendary victory Robb?" asked Theon. "One more great victory and people will start calling you the Lionsbane in time."
"Bah! Lionslayer sounds better," said Torrhen Karstark with a mocking grin.
"The Young Wolf has a certain… air about it. It fits," said the Smalljon scratching his chin.
Truth be told, Robb didn't like any of those epithets, he didn't show it though. He stole a glance at Alysane Mormont. He could end up with something like 'Wolfboy', that would be a real tragedy.
He let them exchange a few more lines before raising his hand, "Focus, they are here."
In the distance he could hear, the galloping of horses, the rattle of steel on steel. "Get ready," Robb said and everyone fell silent.
Under the moonlight, in the valley entrance he saw them. Lannister riders falling in their trap.
Maege Mormont warhorn was sounded twice to let them know this wasn't the whole two thousand Lannister riders and that the last rider had crossed the creek.
Grey Wind threw back his head and howled. The sound made his men cheer. He raised his sword, "Forward!" he called.
From the sides the Greatjon and Lord Karstark charged. The Mallisters and Freys sounded their trumpets and appeared from east and west.
Robb arrived to the valley but couldn't join the fight. The Lannisters were surrounded from all sides.
Here Greatjon cleaved a rider in two and Maege Mormont smashed the helmet of another.
There Lord Mallister knocked down a man and Ser Hosteen made another a head short.
Soon enough, it was over. And this time, Robb only had his jaw clenched.
"No Kingslayer in sight Robb," said Theon. "We got ourselves a couple of knights though."
"Lord Westerling surrendered himself," said Ser Brynden. "The Kingslayer should be in Riverrun, we'll have to go with your second plan, nephew."
It was bad luck. Capturing the Kingslayer today would've saved the most lives. But Riverrun would have to hold a couple of days longer.
"I'll need you well rested, Ser Brynden. I need a commander for the outriders tomorrow," said Robb.
"Ser Martyn comes to mind," said the Blackfish. Robb agreed, the Frey baseborn was a capable man.
Robb turned his horse, "We didn't capture the Kingslayer, but we are closer to lifting the siege."
His men cheered.
"Ser Jammos," called Robb. "Take two hundred riders and patrol the west road. The Kingslayer may sent my uncle Edmure to the Rock."
"None shall pass, my lord," the Frey knight went off.
On the way to the top of the hill, Robb felt the gazes of his soldiers on him. None of them carried the doubt from weeks past.
In a single battle, he went from 'a boy so green he must piss grass' to… this, whatever this was. Was he a great commander? Was he a boy with luck? And most important of all, could he keep winning?
Robb didn't know.
He suppressed a sigh. He couldn't show himself despondent in front of his lords now. One leg in front of the other, indeed.
###
A/N: I almost made this chapter exposition galore, thankfully I caught myself before having to delete half a chapter for being 'mucho texto'. Let me know if the chapter has too much exposition. I think it is fine, but I'm biased, so yeah.
So anyways, Amory Lorch is in Jon's camp, I believe I saw one comment mentioning him?
So as always, give me your comments ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ