Rains plagued our march to Castle Darry.
It was an easy capture. Barely an hour of fighting to retake it. The garrison was small and demoralized. Resistance crumbled when the first ladder assault managed a beach head in the walls.
Crossing the main gate after securing the surrendered defenders was… an experience.
A gibbet was erected in the central courtyard, there were two bodies swinging to the breeze's whims. To the side, a dozen bodies were scattered in the field. Old and young, men and women. Each and every single one of them mutilated in different ways.
This was the first proper castle we took. If there's something I know about castles, is that they can't run themselves, servants are needed. Is this what war is about in Westeros?
"Separate the bodies and cover them," I ordered. "Hatten, let's find the household survivors, one of them may recognize the bodies."
I couldn't leave them there, or dig a nameless mass grave. I wanted someone, anyone who cared for the dead to at least have a place to pay their respects.
"Aye, my lord," Hatten said. "Don, find me silent sisters and bring them here."
The walk to the main keep was silent. When I closed my eyes I could see the faces of Amanda, Lagg, Garth, Hodor and Old Nan back at the yard. Ghost growled beside me.
Our forces rounded up the Lannister garrison in the main hall. Tables and chairs were strewn all around and there were destroyed barrels of ale in a corner. The Mormonts were searching the Westerlanders for daggers, knifes or whatever weapon they could have.
The prisoners looked meek and defeated. The yard scene was haunting me and I went past the hall before I did something stupid.
Hatten and I checked the kitchens first. The pots and kettles were in place, everything looked clean and ready to be used. To the normal person, this would've looked like a normal castle kitchen, but there were a few things out of place. The ovens were cold, the pantry had barely anything inside, there was no firewood anywhere I looked and, of course, the lack of servants.
I would've kept searching in the stables if it hadn't been for Ghost. I felt a 'pull' coming from him. I abruptly halted and turned to the Sept. It was so obvious.
Karstark men were readying themselves to break the door when I arrived.
"Stop at once! Let me handle this!" I demanded.
The men turned, the scowls they had smoothed over when they recognized me.
"M'lord," the man in charge saluted.
"Good man, inside this sept, there's only smallfolk servants. I'll need to question them to know which lion to hang and which lion to send to the fields."
The men looked festive at the mention of hanging lions. I filled that up for later, mostly because a part of me was also looking forward to that.
"How can you be certain, m'lord?"
Ghost appeared by my side and gave a soft growl in reply.
The man gave me a nod, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and took his men with him. I heard him mutter "Starks" while leaving.
Just like the Winterfell sept, this one had seven sides. And, unlike the Winterfell sept, this one was half timbered and had no windows.
I softly knocked on the sept's door. No one answered, obviously.
"I know you are there," I said with all the warmth I could muster. "I… saw the bodies in the yard. I… don't know…" fuck, "Listen, we dealt with the Lannisters, I know you are not with them. I mean you no harm, I promise."
No reply came back.
At times like this, I envied Robb and his lordly lessons. He told me of the times just before Greyjoy's Rebellion when he and Father went to the Stony Shore dealing with smallfolk after a raiding attack.
Robb told me Father was able to calm down even the most frightened of children with but a word.
I hadn't rode with Father throughout the North, I didn't had Robb's lessons, and sure as all hell I didn't know how to calm down men and women who were afraid the next lord might be worse than the last.
It didn't mean I couldn't try. For Father's sake at least.
"The lions are gone. We retook the castle under the name of Robb Stark, Lord of Winterfell, grandson of Lord Hoster Tully. He wishes for the good people of the Riverlands to live free and unburdened by cruel Lannister hands."
What else…
"I will get you a hot meal, a safe place to sleep. I'll find you a job in my camp if any of you ask. We have need for washerwomen, cooks or cobblers. You'll be safe, this I swear."
Ghost nudged me from the side, I petted him. Was it enough?
"Can you swear on the Seven?" came a gruff voice from inside.
"Aye, I swear on the Seven," is swearing in the gods you don't follow a sin? Hopefully the Seven are merciful when it comes to matters like this.
The door opened after some time. The man inside first had to remove the wood and iron blocking the entrance.
"Hhhmm," he grunted. "You look young, milord."
The old man had a swollen lip and black eye.
"Hatten, guard the door. Ghost, stay here." The man looked like what I imagined a septon would look like. Old and grandfatherly with laughter marks around his eyes. The lack of a crystal collar around his neck told me otherwise, however. "Where is the septon, good man?"
"Hanging in the yard. Old Dijon couldn't keep his words to himself. The sers didn't like hearing him," the man shrugged.
"And, what is your name?"
"Ben, the castle's kennelmaster."
Inside, in the center of the small sept were around a dozen of servants, most of them women, the rest children. They all looked exhausted, the women were hugging each other, had her clothes tattered and their nervous eyes followed my every movement.
"When we heard the lions cry about the wolves," the old man said. "Masha, the head cook, took all her girls here."
"Where's Masha?"
"In the basement, her boy has a fever, she's caring for him, milord."
If the gods are good, the boy will recover with hot meals, sunlight and a herb infusion or two.
"You did well." I bent down to address the women, they flinched and a couple buried their heads on their neighbors' shoulders.
From the stories the riverlanders joining us told, I should've known better than to make sudden movements.
"You are safe now, you'll have a safe place in my camp," I tried to sound soothing. "For now, please come with me."
A boy, no older than Bran wanted to speak, but a frightened look from the woman beside him stopped him.
"… m'lord, I…" a girl of maybe fourteen started speaking. "I can warm your bed, I'll be good to you m'lord, but please, please don't hurt my sister."
I took a sharp breath to cool the embers in my gut. Fucking Lannisters.
"That won't be necessary," the girl flinched, "as I said… you are safe now. You don't have to do anything you don't want."
She hugged her sister tightly, the smaller girl looked despondent, lost to the world. The rest exchanged wary looks but no one else spoke. I felt anger lit inside me. Calm down, don't think about it.
I wasn't going to get much more than that with them. The garrison hurt them deeply, they all looked defeated.
"For the moment, you can stay here alright? I'll arrange for my men to leave your meals in the door," I slowly got to my feet and turned to face the old man. "Ben, when the food arrives, could you hand it out?"
"Aye, m'lord."
I left Hatten to pick some men to guard the sept. And went to the main hall looking for either one of the Mormont sisters. The women in the sept were not going to be very responsive, specially not with men, perhaps a noble lady will have better luck.
To think I was about to give up on my experiments with Amory.
The first day, it took me the better part of an hour to start battering Amory's mind. The knight would've screamed my ears off had he not been gagged. But even after exhausting myself, I couldn't get anything from him.
By the second day, it took me less time to attack Amory's mind. The decrease in time wasn't too substantial, and his thoughts were still a secret to everyone but him.
On and on we went. It still took me more than half an hour to start bashing my metaphorical head against his. And I still couldn't uncover any of the knight's secrets, other than the ones he told me to save himself from the pain of course.
I was starting to feel bad for the Westerlander… But after today… I'm certain at least one of the survivors of Darry's household will recognize Amory. And with that in mind, my conviction steeled.
The hall was in a fuss when I got there. I heard cheers and hollering from the inside. I had to pull rank to go through the door.
There was a crowd on the left side of the hall with fists in the air. I approached an oddly subdued Jorelle.
"Was someone stupid enough to insult Dacey again?"
Jorelle sighed, "Something like that."
So it was worse. Last time a soldier insulted the Mormont heir, she broke his nose and gave him a couple of love taps. Now, she's crushing the offender while her men are cheering her on. Something else must've happened, I'm sure.
"Do you think…" what? That we should stop her? Dacey knows when enough is enough, besides the man will probably end up in the gallows anyway. "Can you help me, there's some survivors in the sept, I can't calm them down on my lonesome."
"Sure, I think Dacey has this in hand anyway."
She took a couple of Mormont shieldmaidens with her. She must've known who the survivors were, either by deduction or by reading my, according to Robb, very-readable-face.
"Lady Jorelle, can I ask what happened in the hall?" I asked when we were getting closer.
"Why?"
She was quiet while in our walk and if you shared dinner with Jorelle Mormont, you'd know something was wrong when she was quiet.
"Nothing in particular," I said instead. "As for the soldier Dacey was pummeling, should I sentence him to twenty lashes before we hang him?"
We stopped at the sept's door before she could answer.
"You are an odd one aren't you?" She shuffled in her feet and sighed. "Don't go out of your way for us, if he gets the rope then that will suffice."
"As my lady says," I bowed as dramatically as I could. Just as I used to do fo-, I clamped down that thought.
Jorelle chuckled and shook her head. "Sorry for that Jon, it seems I lost myself a little. I'll calm the women inside."
They went into the sept.
It seems my poker face still needs some training.
Master Glover took the main hall for his war council. It wouldn't have been my first choice, it was overkill to use the whole hall, alas we were already here.
Galbart Glover entered the hall a few minutes after myself. By his side was Ser Donnel Locke. At first I thought it strange that a knight with nothing to inherit was close to our commander, turns out Donnel's sister, Lady Sybelle, was married to Robett Glover.
The commander sat. "The maester got word from Stone Hedge my lords, Lord Stark lifted the Riverrun siege."
The hall exploded in cheer, the tension I felt from these past days melted away. I knew Robb has a mind for strategy and he had the Blackfish with him, but after Father's news…
Master Galbart waited for the hall to settle. "We don't have all the details, and no word from Lord Stark, which leads me to believe Riverrun has no ravens left. In this matter, we are in luck, Darry still has ravens," he swiped the table with his gaze. "I'm sending word of our successes and of what we decide to do next."
"Shouldn't we wait for Lord Stark's command?" Ser Donnel asked. Dacey furrowed her brows, the timing was off, this question felt prepared.
"He gave us command to pursue the old lion, ser," Galbart said. "He's in Harrenhal with a diminished force; hence we'll besiege it."
I wasn't entirely sure what he wanted to accomplish. Why the need for the theatrics? Everyone in the council wants to capture Tywin and end this stupid war.
"I agree with Ser Donnel," I said. I needed to uncover more of Galbart's reasoning, and if they were nice enough to give me a foothold… "We should wait for Lord Stark's command."
Locke pursed his lips, I did my absolute best to keep my face still.
"There's the issue with our supplies," Harrion said. "We can't stay in Darry for long. The Whent lands are fertile, I'm sure the smallfolk will be happy to add to our supplies when we share some of Lord Tywin's gold with them."
It seemed Harrion was with Galbart then. Honestly, that assuages most of my worries. This was just plain old glory chasing.
"You speak true, my lord," I deferred. I didn't quite understand the need for theatrics, but I knew Harrion. "On the matter of supplies, after capturing Harrenhal, or perhaps when Lord Stark joins us from Riverrun we should secure Maidenpool for our eventual march on King's Landing."
I didn't speak a word after that. The reasoning was sound, and Ser Donnel was staring daggers at me. A single word from me, and the knight may think I'm insulting him, or something inane like that.
The council ended soon after.
The very first thing I saw from Harrenhal were its towers at a distance.
Last night, we stopped our march in the scorched remains of a village, the ominous castle south at a distance of about a day's march.
It was still early in the morning when I took my halberd to warm up. The familiar forms and drills leaving my mind free to wander.
It had been days since leaving Darry and I still couldn't 'read' anything from Lorch. Things weren't moving along the way I expected.
The only thing I learned from my experiments, was that having Ghost by my side made it easier to attack Amory's mind. It wasn't a great discovery, mostly because I greatly suspected that'd be the case.
It was going to be an long lasting project. Had my test subject been anyone else, I would probably abandon it. Thankfully for me, Amory Lorch was… a monster.
As the official questioner of the army, I collected multiple testimonies from the villages and towns where Tywin Lannister had passed. Safe to say, every time I felt a little bad for Amory, I'd just revisit those interviews in my head. After that, any sense of mercy in me was thoroughly extinguished.
Onto other matters, aside from my utter failure to develop the ability to 'read minds', yesterday's dinner gave me a clue as to what I could possibly do to gather valuable information.
I joined the brothers Perwyn and Ronel for dinner, I wanted to know more about noble houses from the Riverlands and the conversation inevitably went to the bitter rivalry between Brackens and Blackwoods.
"If you ever saw Lord Tytos and Lord Jonos together," Perwyn said. "Without knowing of their houses rivalry I mean, you'd see them as bitter ex-lovers trying to one up each other. It's equal parts disturbing and funny."
"I escorted Ser Stevron a few times," Ronel said. "And every time we met both lords together, I'd always had a hard time not breaking down in laughter."
After a few stories, we ended up talking about the bastard sons and daughters of Aegon the Unworthy, specifically of Brynden Rivers, son of Lady Melissa Blackwood, and Aegor Rivers, son of Lady Barba Bracken.
I let out a long breath. I finished my warm up, my halberd glistened with the morning sunlight. There was something about Brynden Rivers, the man had a song about him: "A thousand eyes and one". As reference to the amount of informants he was supposed to have.
I couldn't make the connection last night, the conversation wasn't anything special really. But with a fresh mind and working out to awaken my brain, it all seemed so evident. Brynden Rivers, born to a lady from an ancestral house follower of the old gods, was a skinchanger. He had to be.
It was logical. How else could the man get a reputation for being the best Master of Whisperers? The man knew things he had no business knowing, chief among them the movements of Bittersteel's army in the Third Blackfyre Rebellion. When studying the event under Maester Luwin back in Winterfell, Robb and I were amazed at how well Maekar Targaryen was able to predict Bittersteel movements, back then it sounded almost magical. Well, what if it was?
What if Bloodraven was able to spy on Bittersteel? What if he skinchanged into a bird to see Bittersteel's movements and then relayed that information to Maekar?
I stopped my halberd before committing to an overhead swing. I needed to get myself a hawk.
Next day we arrived at Harrenhal northern gates, on the opposite side of the God's Eye lake. Everything in the castle was as big as it was impractical. Just the gatehouse alone was as large as Winterfell's Great Keep.
Over the gates there were Lannister banners, we formed around the gate to prepare for the siege. Galbart sent Ser Perwyn Frey leading a dozen riders to find Robett Glover. Meanwhile I took my men to build defenses out of the castle's gates.
After the host was organized enough, Galbart approached the walls seeking audience with Tywin. The garrison kept their silence and no one got out to meet the northern lord. That was… why? What was Tywin expecting? Did the man was delusional enough to think he could somehow win his stupid war? Did the crown sent him reinforcements?
If I was a better skinchanger I could find out. Sadly my tries with the hawk were not coming along quick. So I retraced steps and decided to go by the way I became able to skinchange into Ghost. I named my winged friend Cerati, just because it's the first thing that came to mind and got him a perch in my tent to spend some time together.
We spent the afternoon setting up our camp, the Lannisters kept looking our way the whole afternoon.
Night came and with it, Robett Galbart. The war council had one more member.
"Just storm the castle!" Ser Donnel hit the table. "Old Tywin won't be able to handle it. Not with his measly two thousand men."
I had to do a double take. How does he want to storm Harrenhal walls? Our ladders aren't that tall, even if we tied two together the wood will just crack under the assault.
"We'll need a couple of siege towers to do so," Harrion said.
Someone speaking against the knight was better than nothing at least.
"Why wait?" Ser Donnel snapped. "We can just put together our ladders and take the walls."
"That wouldn't work," Robett Glover said. "I've seen it done before, back in the Iron Islands when we stormed Pyke. Some Lydden knight tied ladders together, he and a dozen men broke their necks when the ladder split."
"Let's starve the lions then," Medger Cerwyn proposed. "We can block all the doors and wait. Tywin will surrender by the month."
That plan may be viable, except for-
"It'd take years for the lions to deplete their reserves," said Robett. "My lords, old Tywin had a host twenty thousand strong and he took Harrenhal early in his campaign. I'm certain the garrison won't suffer from food for a long while."
That was the first reason, it's hard to imagine Tywin's foraging parties not hoarding it all in Harrenhal.
With Robett here, seems to me that Galbart stepped down from his position as commander. The younger Glover gives the impression of being more experienced, oddly as it sounds.
"Even with a thousand rams breaking those gates seem impossible," lamented Medger Cerwyn.
"Assaulting the gates is too daunting a task," said Dacey. "After breaking the first gate, we'd still need to break the interior one, all the while the Lannisters will rain arrows from the dozen murder holes each gate has."
Hearing of how enormous Harrenhal was, was entirely different to seeing it with your own eyes. The castle was just stupid, impregnable yes, but incredibly impractical. There's no realistic way to fully staff the castle. The logistics of horses and carts aren't enough.
"My lords," I said. "I believe an attack on two fronts will be needed. Split our camp in two, force the Lannister garrison to divide their attention."
"Split our forces you say?" Ser Donnel stood up. "Are you daft, boy!? That's exactly what the Lannisters want!"
Ah, of course. That's exactly the circumstances Robb took advantage of at Riverrun. It seems I lack some common sense for this world still. Father used to tell me so from time to time.
"I misspoke, my lords," I said recovering. "What I meant to say was to split a small force, three dozen men will suffice. The rest of our forces should be attacking the walls through the night, meanwhile, the split force will find an unmanned stretch of wall to climb. The defenders will be to preoccupied with the frontal assault and the climbers will secure a side gate for us to assault."
Ser Donnel scoffed, "This is Harrenhal we are talking about, boy. There's no way to climb those walls."
Alright, I didn't know what his problem was, this idiot was just saying to storm the walls. It didn't matter. I had to just bite my tongue to not say anything uncouth.
Harrion looked like he wanted to speak, but Galbart beat him: "We'll set sentries on the gates and start building a siege tower. There's no need to hurry, my lords. Lord Tywin can't leave."
Alright that's it. I've tried not to think about it too much, but this was it, "There's need to hurry, my lords. My sisters are still in King's Landing. Lady Sansa Stark and Lady Arya Stark are still prisoners in the capital."
I scanned the tent, Dacey was grinding her teeth; Harrion was frowning at Galbart; Lord Cerwyn seemed indifferent; Ser Donnel had a calculating glint on him; Galbart's expression didn't betray him, same for his brother.
"Precisely. Which is why we can't be rash," said Galbart. "We have Lord Tywin surrounded, and many more Lannisters captive. The crown won't dare to touch a hair on ladies Sansa or Arya."
I didn't like, not one bit. The Glovers and Locke were plotting something. What were they after? I couldn't say. All I knew was that my sisters' lives were expendable for them.
I've been too comfortable, I didn't expect my side to not be committed to save my sisters. I took a long breath to cool the fire in my gut. It didn't work.
A/N: This chapter really didn't want to come out. Not sure why.
So we have the obligatory 'horrors of war' kind of chapter. I had another scene planned for this segment, but I had to push it a bit further down the line.
Also, I started reading The Martian, for improving my 1st person narrator and all. All I can say is that I'm not proud of this chapter lol.
Anyway, give me your comments! (╯°□°)╯( ┻━┻