Riverrun.
Robb gathered together with his bannermen. This time, his uncle was also present—Edmure Tully, the new Lord of Riverrun.
They were discussing whom they should support as king: Stannis Baratheon of House Baratheon, who had raised his banners at the same time, or Renly.
"Renly cannot inherit the Iron Throne," Robb said.
"My lord, surely you don't intend to go to King's Landing and swear fealty to Joffrey?" Galbart Glover said angrily. "Your father died at his hands!"
"That only proves he is an evil man," Robb replied. "It does not make Renly the rightful king. Joffrey is Robert's eldest son. According to the laws of the realm, the throne should belong to him. If he dies, he still has a younger brother. The right of succession would pass to Tommen."
"Tommen is no less a Lannister," Ser Mark said.
"True," Robb said, troubled. "But even if both of them were dead, it still wouldn't be Renly's turn to claim the throne. He is Robert's third brother. How could Renly ascend before his elder brother, Stannis?"
Lady Mormont nodded in agreement. "According to the Baratheon line of succession, Stannis indeed has a stronger claim than his younger brother Renly."
"But Renly has already been crowned at Storm's End," Marq Piper said. "Highgarden supports him, and Dorne surely won't stand aside either. If the forces of Winterfell and Riverrun join in, my lords, in less than a year we could put the heads of the Queen Regent, the boy king, Lord Tywin, the Imp, and the Kingslayer all on spikes atop the walls of King's Landing!
But if we pledge ourselves to Lord Stannis, what can he give us in return?"
"By law, his claim comes before Renly's," Robb said stubbornly.
Catelyn looked at her eldest son. The way Robb spoke reminded her painfully of his father, Ned, and it filled her with unease.
At this moment, the fiercest and most warlike of the northern bannermen, the Greatjon, stood up.
He roared, "You're a coward!"
Then he declared that both Renly and Stannis were younger brothers—neither of them could make him submit. As for those southern lords, even less so. The gods they worshipped weren't even real. First they bent the knee to dragons, and now the dragons were long dead—what were they still kneeling for?
He drew his terrifying greatsword with both hands and pointed it at Robb.
"I'll kneel, sure—but I'll kneel to one king only," his voice thundered. "Long live the King in the North!"
Lord Karstark also drew his sword and echoed, "Long live the King in the North!"
The riverlords glanced at one another, then rose as well. Though their houses had never been ruled by Winterfell, they all stood together, drew their swords, and went down on one knee, shouting an ancient title that had not been heard in three hundred years.
"Long live the King in the North!"
Damn it!
In the lord's manor reception hall, Lin was overwhelmed as he dealt with wave after wave of applicants. The enthusiasm of the residents of the fishing port to secure a stable job was so intense that it caught him completely off guard.
After a full day of work, he had recruited a little over twenty craftsmen. Most of them had some construction experience—for example, helping repair the fishing port's fortifications during the off-season, or maintaining the drainage channels within the town.
One middle-aged man who specialized in repairing latrines was exceptionally hired by Lin. After Lin praised him as a "talent," the man's face flushed red with excitement as he shouted at acquaintances who had mocked him earlier, "Did you see that? The lord himself just said I'm a talent!"
The acquaintance replied, "Then you really are a damn talent."
…
Lin chuckled awkwardly and shook his head. Turning to the old maester Hill, who was sitting to the side recording everything, he asked,
"How many applicants are left today?"
Maester Hill replied, "My lord, only one remains. She's here to apply for the position of steward."
Lin forced himself to perk up. Please don't let it be another merchant just trying his luck, all smiles and flattery. Lin had no desire to keep someone who only knew how to kiss up as his steward.
Dany walked into the main hall of the lord's manor, wearing a gray cotton jacket that had been washed until it faded. There were still smudges of dirt on her face.
Lin saw a little girl with reddish-brown hair, about thirteen years old, and looked at her in surprise. "You're an applicant?"
"Yes, my lord!" The girl's voice was clear and loud.
Hoping he had misunderstood, Lin confirmed again, "Applying to be a steward?"
"That's right, my lord," Dany replied calmly.
"Well then, the interview is over. Unfortunately, you haven't been accepted," Lin shook his head. What kind of situation was this? A little girl wanting to be his chief steward?
Hearing this, the red-brown-haired girl immediately lost her composure.
"Why, my lord?" she asked anxiously, looking at Lin. "You haven't even asked me any questions yet."
Lin made up an excuse on the spot. "I don't hire child labor here. That's against the law."
Dany blinked in surprise. "My lord… that law doesn't exist in King's Landing."
Lin froze. He raised his eyebrows at Maester Hill beside him and winked.
The maester stood up respectfully. "That is correct, my lord. There is indeed no statute in the laws of the Iron Throne regarding child labor. I believe her age does not prevent her from being an applicant."
Lin was left speechless.
No child labor laws?
Come to think of it, that chubby boy Arya's friend who worked in the bakery did seem quite young.
Even so, Lin still found it hard to convince himself to hire someone so young as a steward. In his impression, this was a job that required considerable experience.
He hesitated for a moment and still wanted to refuse—but then he saw the girl staring at him with wide eyes, filled with pleading and sincerity.
Lin suddenly felt a bit guilty.
Seizing the moment, the girl continued to beg, "Please, my lord. If I don't get a job, my maid and I will starve very soon."
Lin immediately caught the word maid. His face darkened as he asked in surprise, "You have a maid?"
What kind of joke was this? An applicant claiming she was about to starve, yet still keeping a maid.
Lin even wanted to add that he himself didn't have a maid.
The girl hurriedly corrected herself. "A former maid, my lord… I truly need this job very badly. If possible, could you give me one chance to try?"
Lin thought for a moment and asked, "What is your name?"
"Dany Tully."
Tully? Could she be from House Tully of Riverrun? But Lin was certain he had never heard this name before. Suspicion flickered in his eyes, yet when he noticed the beautiful reddish-brown hair on the girl's forehead, he fell into thought.
"Please," the girl pleaded again.
Lin tapped his fingers on the table, then finally gave in with a sigh. "I'll give you a chance to try. Come to the manor tomorrow."
"Thank you, Lord!" Dany turned around and, like a little deer, squeezed through the crowd and ran off.
She needed to tell this good news to her former maid, Shili.
With the day's recruitment finally over, Lin stood up and glanced at Maester Hill, who was tidying up the records. Lowering his voice, Lin asked, "Why didn't my father ever think of recruiting a maid or something for the lord's manor?"
Maester Hill fell silent for a moment, paused, then said, "My lord… I could help you inquire about it…"
Lin said, "About what?"
Maester Hill replied, "In the black market of White Harbor, there are various maids for sale…"
Lin froze for a second. "Old man, that's not what I meant."
A niche A Song of Ice and Fire fanfic. Very few new ones are being written now.
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(End Chapter)