At night, Robb personally escorted Bran back to his room to rest.
"You can use magic—what Osha said was true. There really is magic! Just look at how everyone acted tonight. They practically wanted to rip their hearts out and hand them to you!" Bran chattered excitedly about everything that had happened in the great hall.
Even a child of only ten-odd years like Bran could see it clearly: after tonight, there was no longer the slightest trace of dissent in the hearts of all the lords present. Especially Greatjon Umber—after Robb struck and intimidated him, the way he willingly knelt before Robb's throne was exactly the same as Maege of Bear Island.
"I'd bet that even if you told him to go die right now, he wouldn't even blink."
Robb escorted Bran into the bedroom and affectionately rubbed his younger brother's head. At this stage, Bran was at the peak of his looks—anyone who saw him would have to say he was adorable.
"I won't send him to die. He's a loyal subordinate."
Bran didn't care about that. His admiration for his brother had reached its peak. "You'll definitely be able to save Father and Sister, right? And Arya too—though she's always stealing the spotlight from me."
Robb shook his head. "I can't guarantee it. You've seen that false emperor Joffrey. He's the product of incest, and his personality is… abnormal. I can't be sure I can reach him and kill him before he goes mad and has Father executed."
When Bran thought of Joffrey's arrogant yet cowardly face, the heart that had just settled instantly tightened again.
Robb looked at him. "Bran, are you a man?"
Bran glanced at his crippled legs. "I am, but they all say that I—"
Robb cut him off. "Listen, Bran. If you lie in your bedroom your whole life, no one will ever say anything about you—but can you really lie in bed for your entire life? Other people's opinions don't matter, because their views will change with your actions. When you act timid, they'll look down on you. If you strengthen yourself, others will instead admire you.
"When I depart, Winterfell will only have you and four-year-old Rickon left. House Stark commands great respect in the North, but there will still be those with ill intentions. They'll take this chance to attack Winterfell and the other lords who fully support us.
"I'll leave you some men. Maester Luwin will help you as well. You must learn to command them and hold Winterfell when danger comes."
Hearing Robb's words, Bran felt his spirits lift slightly. "I can do it!"
Robb instructed him solemnly, "No matter what happens, keep the gates closed. Don't go out. Wait for me to come back."
"I will. Even if they mock me, I'll protect our home."
...
Early the next morning, Robb finished preparing everything and bade farewell to Bran, ready to leave Winterfell and lead the army south.
Bran, who came to see him off, said worriedly, "Rickon refuses to come say goodbye. He's afraid that, like Father, you won't come back."
Robb shook his head. "I'll come back. When I do, I can teach you the magic you've always wanted to learn. From what I've seen, you have great talent."
Bran lit up with joy. "Really?!"
Robb laughed and teased him. "Of course. You can't beat Arya in riding, archery, or swordsmanship. Being a knight isn't all that interesting anyway—might as well learn some magic with me."
Bran's face instantly fell, yet in his heart there was an indescribable, long-lost feeling of happiness. Being inferior to Arya had always been the excuse his brothers used to tease him endlessly. But ever since he'd been pushed from the tower by someone from House Lannister and lost the use of his legs, his brothers and sisters had never said such things again.
Maybe they were trying to spare his feelings—but that kind of pity always made him want to cry in the dead of night.
Instead, Robb acting like this now made him both angry and happy. It was strange.
Watching his brother Robb depart, Bran saw Grey Wind running nimbly beside the warhorses. At the very front of the column, the grey-and-white banner of House Stark was held high, fluttering in the wind.
Theon Greyjoy and Greatjon Umber walked on either side of Robb. After last night, Greatjon had willingly become Robb's guard. Behind them, more than three thousand knights marched in two long columns, steel spearheads glittering in the sunlight.
From this moment on, an elite force appeared on the Kingsroad.
The Kingsroad was a public road running north to south across the continent of Westeros. In an era of low productivity, a good road meant countless bones buried beneath it, so in all of Westeros there was only this single "highway."
The North lay at the very northern edge of the continent. Because of its brutally cold winters, it was difficult to attract outsiders. Thus, although the North's territory was vast—almost a third of the entire continent—its population was not large.
The immense size of the land also meant that Robb would have a very long journey ahead if he wished to reach King's Landing.
Robb led the army slowly southward. At first, the road was fairly easy, but before long they entered regions heavy with swamps, and the march slowed.
Marching on foot wasn't too bad for the soldiers, but the supply wagons had no way to move quickly through the marshes. Wagons often sank into the mud, requiring several soldiers working together just to lift them out.
To gather more information, Robb sent out riders from House Seaworth as scouts, scattering more than a hundred men. Along the way, they gathered intelligence, recruited wandering knights who wished to join, and made contact with the people of the swamps.
Advancing like this—marching while gathering information—after several days, Robb led the army to one of the most important fortresses in the North: Moat Cailin.
Robb instructed Theon at his side, "Pass down my order. The army will rest here. Have the heads of each house come tonight for a meeting."
Moat Cailin was the strongest fortress in the North—not because it was especially grand or magnificent, but because of its uniquely advantageous geography.
To the north of Moat Cailin lay Winterfell. Following the Kingsroad straight north would bring you there, with little obstruction. But to the south stretched a vast swamp.
This swamp was extremely dangerous—filled with mists and dense thickets, countless venomous insects and strange snakes, and endless stretches of sucking mud. Outsiders who entered would immediately lose their way. To send a large army through this rotten land to attack Moat Cailin was essentially impossible.
Within the swamps stood a castle called Greywater Watch. Its lord, Howland Reed, was sworn to the North. He and Ned had been brothers-in-arms who lived and died together. The people who lived at Greywater Watch were the "crannogmen" Maester Luwin had once told Bran about.
South of the swamps lay the Riverlands, the domain of one of the Seven Great Lords—a land rich and fertile.
Thus, as long as Moat Cailin was held, the North would never be defeated.
Before the evening meeting, the scouts who had been sent out in large numbers over the past few days all returned to Moat Cailin. Robb gained a great deal of information—but what they brought back was not good news.
Ser Jaime of House Lannister had led an army from the Golden Tooth and slaughtered the forces of House Tully in the Riverlands. Lord Vance of the Riverlands had been killed in battle.
(End of Chapter)