Chapter 92: Return to Winterfell
In Winterfell, inside the great hall of the main keep, Robb sat upright in the lord's chair. Behind him hung a massive direwolf banner, its presence imposing and solemn.
To his right stood Maester Luwin.
Kneeling in the center of the hall was a sturdy villager, though his appearance was pitiful—his clothes were tattered, his body covered in wounds. The shoes on his feet were worn through, exposing frostbitten skin beneath.
At this moment, he wept bitterly as he spoke.
"My lord, you must seek justice for us! Ten days ago, a band of raiders attacked our village. They were brutal—slaughtering villagers, burning our granaries, stealing everything we owned, violating women… committing every evil imaginable…"
Robb listened, helplessly watching as the man went on and on, listing atrocity after atrocity. Yet after a long while, not a single useful detail had emerged.
Finally, he raised a hand to stop him.
"That's enough. I understand the terrible crimes these bandits have committed. As your lord, I will send troops to destroy them."
He paused, his tone firm.
"But before that, I need useful information—something I can act on."
The villager blinked, confused.
"This…?"
He hesitated awkwardly.
"My lord… forgive my ignorance. What exactly counts as 'useful information'?"
Robb's patience thinned. Looking at the broad-shouldered man before him, he spoke more sharply.
"You know nothing—so what exactly have you come here to report?"
The villager trembled, panic rising in his eyes.
"Forgive me, my lord, I…"
Robb was about to rebuke him further—
"Ahem…"
A deliberate cough from Maester Luwin cut him off.
Robb paused, taking a slow breath, forcing down his irritation. Silence settled over the hall for a moment.
Luwin then stepped forward, addressing the villager calmly.
"What my lord means is this—how many bandits were there? What weapons and armor did they use? Were they infantry or cavalry?"
"On what night did they attack? Where exactly did it happen? Which direction did they flee afterward? Did they carry any banners?"
Under this guidance, the villager suddenly understood.
"My lord, our village is along the shores of the Long Lake. They attacked fifteen nights ago. There were forty or fifty of them—maybe more."
"They were all mounted… or at least, the ones I saw were. I didn't see anyone fighting on foot."
He scratched his head, uncertain.
Robb sighed inwardly, glancing at Luwin. The maester simply gestured for patience and continued prompting.
"Anything else? The more details you provide, the easier it will be for Lord Robb to track them down and deliver justice."
The villager hesitated, then nodded.
"Yes… they all carried fine steel swords and wore chainmail. They moved quickly and worked well together."
"That's all I know, my lord. I'm sorry."
"That's quite detailed," Luwin said with a gentle smile, reassuring him.
Relief flickered across the villager's face.
At Luwin's signal, Robb spoke again.
"Winterfell will not ignore your suffering. I swear in my father's name—these bandits will pay in blood."
"Every drop of blood shed in the North will be answered. I will personally lead the cavalry to destroy them."
"Blood for blood."
"The North remembers."
The villager's face filled with gratitude. He bowed deeply before being led out by a servant.
Once he had gone, Robb turned to Luwin.
"My apologies, Maester. I'm not yet a worthy lord… I lack the patience to truly listen to my people."
Then, with a trace of frustration, he added:
"I should be at the Wall, fighting alongside my brothers against the White Walkers. Saelen and Jon must need me far more than this…"
Maester Luwin listened patiently, then spoke in a measured, guiding tone.
"Robb, you must understand—your position now is that of a lord, the acting lord of Winterfell. Your foremost duty is to hear the reasonable petitions of your bannermen and smallfolk, and to uphold the honor and justice of House Stark."
"Lord Eddard entrusted Winterfell to you when he rode south. Your role is to hold the rear, to steady the people—not to charge into battle at the front. Winterfell must always have a Stark seated within it."
Robb, however, was unconvinced. He frowned and replied,
"But if a lord cannot share hardships with his bannermen, how can he earn their true loyalty and respect?"
Luwin was about to continue persuading him when a guard hurried in and interrupted:
"My lord! The watchtower reports a cavalry force—twenty to thirty riders—approaching Winterfell at speed."
Robb and Luwin exchanged puzzled looks.
"Did they identify the banner?" Robb asked.
"The direwolf banner, my lord."
Robb turned to Luwin. "Have we sent out any riders recently?"
"No, my lord," Luwin replied after a brief thought.
Just then, footsteps sounded outside the hall, followed by a familiar, hearty laugh.
"Haha, Robb! How does it feel to be a lord?"
Both Robb and Luwin turned toward the entrance in surprise.
Saelen strode in first, smiling. Behind him came Jon, Ygritte, and Val, with Gendry and several guards bringing up the rear, escorting two prisoners.
"Saelen? Jon?" Robb exclaimed, his face lighting up with delight.
"Robb, it's been a while," Saelen greeted with a faint smile.
Robb quickly stepped forward and embraced him tightly.
"I've missed you," he said, before turning and pulling Jon into a firm hug as well.
"We've missed you too," Saelen replied warmly. Then he glanced at Jon and teased, "Actually… we should be calling you 'Lord Robb' now, shouldn't we?"
"Don't make fun of me," Robb groaned, clearly exasperated. "Every day I have to deal with endless trivial matters—petty disputes and nonsense."
"Do you know what happened the other day?" he added, half-laughing, half-annoyed.
"A man came to me asking for help catching his wife in the act of adultery! She was sleeping with another man, and he was too afraid of her to confront her himself—so he ran all the way to Winterfell!"
Robb couldn't help but laugh in disbelief.
"He doesn't deserve to be called a man. The North is full of strong men—how did such a coward appear among us?"
Saelen clicked his tongue in amusement. Even in a feudal world like Westeros, such absurd domestic disputes still found their way to a lord's court.
"And what did you do?" he asked, curious.
"What else?" Robb shrugged. "I gave the adulterer two choices—take the black and join the Night's Watch, or lose the part of him that caused the trouble."
"He chose the Wall, of course."
"And the woman?" Saelen asked.
Robb sighed.
"Her husband chose to forgive her. He begged me, saying their child couldn't grow up without a mother—and that with winter coming, they wouldn't survive without her labor. So… I couldn't bring myself to punish her further."
Saelen nodded silently. Just another man crushed under the weight of poverty and survival.
The brief moment of levity faded. The group returned to the matter at hand.
Saelen's smile disappeared, his expression turning grave as he looked at Robb.
"Robb… we have a serious problem."