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CHP 44: A Ruler's Wisdom
🕑 Added 2024-09-27 07:07:00 +0000 UTCThe next day started with an oddly beautiful morning.
The grey clouds and light rain that had become par for the course over the previous week had faded away during the night, revealing a clear blue sky flecked with puffy white clouds. Birds of prey sang as they left their nests and down below, I could see squires rushing about in the Northern camp, helping wherever they could while food was rushed out of the keep to the pavilions of the many lords and knights presents.
It almost made me forget the Karstark and Mallister altercation the day before and how the conflict between the two people would only grow while their lords waited to make a choice.
I put a hand on the battlement's crenelation and smiled, watching levies have breakfast amongst themselves, laughing together... I even spotted rivermen and northmen sharing meals as others sang, confirming for me what I already knew.
The small folk couldn't give two shits about age old grudges when they lived each day knowing it could be their last. There were even a few of them sparring together, because people would always be people no matter the world age, and people loved showing off.
Interestingly enough, Petyr Baelish had largely kept to himself and somehow refrained from attempting to ruin my image. I'd encountered him on my way up to the wall and the small had just turned around and ran off to Marika knew where.
Standing alone, and knowing what Robb wanted to discuss with his council, my mind wandered back to my conversation with Renly Baratheon, where he'd asked for my services in his quest to become King of the Seven Kingdoms... Despite having no 'right' to the throne, he seemed so confident, so sure that he truly deserved it.
I could only perceive that as human arrogance now.
My thoughts were interrupted by heavy footsteps that drew nearer and nearer and when I turned to them, my eyes fell on a familiar rugged face, with thick lips hidden under a bushy grey moustache that mixed into a well kept beard.
"Helman? Is that you?" I smiled neutrally, dragging a finger against the ancient redstone that made up Riverrun's walls, "...You haven't kicked the bucket yet?"
Helman Tallhart looked like he had aged a human decade since our last encounter at Deepwood Motte.
The older man rubbed a finger under his nose and let out a small chuckle, "Despite my wishes, no such luck am afraid. The ice you made hasn't disappeared yet. It's going to leave the North open to attack."
I cocked my head confused but his words clicked right the next second.
I had used the frost of Borealis, the Freezing Fog, to freeze the marshes around the Neck on my way to the Riverlands in a bid to keep my clothes clean. The sort of frost that could keep lakes frozen in place so long as the likes of Messmer didn't rain down hellfire on the region.
The problem was, it had been months or, maybe even a year since that had happened going by Addam's beard.
"I guess it'll melt away soon?" I offered a lame placation, scratching the back of my head, "Wait, how are you so sure it was me in the first place?"
Helman cast a glance my way, then rested both hands on the wall, "I was with Lord Eddard when we entered King's Landing and while I didn't stay at the Red Keep long... I did manage a glimpse of the bones of the Targaryen dragons under it."
I listened quietly as the old man reminisced over his glory days, because he spoke about the end of a Dynasty nearly three centuries long.
"Terrifying things, the size of the gate under us if memory serves right." He continued, sighing softly, "I supposed if they lived and breathed not so long ago, who were men to think that there was nothing greater than themselves? I saw Harrenhal, and then I saw the Twins with these two eyes... I do not presume to know what you are, my lord." He turned my way, fists clenched, "But I ask that you look over Robb Stark, the son of my liege and a man I would call a friend."
I stared into his cloudy eyes intently, noting the minute details of his expression and was disappointed when I saw not the eyes of a lord dealing with a mercenary, but a man pleading with a higher power.
"...Fine." I groaned slightly, "I'm disappointed in you though."
He had the audacity to smile at my words before taking a step aside and gesturing for me to walk, "Then, if you would. Lord Robb has requested your presence."
"Maybe start with that next time."
"Oh, but that wouldn't save you the trouble of waiting for Lord Galbart Glover to join us. He's rather sluggish when it comes to being on time."
-
I entered the great hall of Riverrun to the not-so-unexpected sight of unruly lords shouting amongst themselves and flinging death threats, accompanied by flavorful language regarding each other's parenthood.
There weren't many of them, and all of them had divided themselves into clear groups dependent solely on where they were from. A few northerners and rivermen mingled but the air was tense all the same.
Robb Stark sat on a wooden throne under a narrow carved window, with Catelyn Stark to his left and Edmure Tully to his right. Petyr Baelish had weaselled himself into a small chair by Catelyn's side and trembled when I announced my arrival by abruptly kicking in the great oaken doors.
Following in the examples of their lieges, the Rivermen sat along a long table to the right while the Northmen situated themselves across from them. The Vale Lords sat by either side, in whatever place they could find but I could sense a clear divide in them too. A divide I assumed was created by Petyr's ascension to Lord Regent of the Vale.
Maidservants ran around, hurriedly retrieving wooden platters and tableware, taking great care not to unknowingly offend some random lord. Before long, they filtered out of the great hall from small doors built into the corners.
Curious, I let my eyes wander around the hall, spotting many familiar faces and several I didn't know... along with Theon 'Greyjoy'. He sat beside Roose Bolton and snuck afeared glances at the pale man.
For once, I didn't blame him.
I could see how the Bolton Lord would be unsettling.
A wolf the colour of smoke was resting under Robb's stable, keeping one golden eye half-open. I'd heard of the creature but this was my first time seeing it... and rather than appear fierce, it looked little more than a cute little pup... but then again, the only comparison I had was Lord Godfrey's Serosh, the Golden Lion that withheld his beastly nature and that... was so very unfair.
"Silence." Robb Stark said calmly, a hand on the table in front of him.
Though his voice should never have reached any of them, the wolf under him snarled, and one by one, like unruly children who'd just been scolded, the Northern Lords went quiet. They lowered their heads in respect, and the River Lords too quieted down.
The Stark tapped his finger against the furnished wood of his table, "The Lannisters are broken. Their host has crumbled, and they have run to King's Landing. I see no reason to pursue them."
His bannermen seemed stumped, and didn't reply further. Jason Mallister of Seagard, the man who'd enlisted my help, took this opportunity to rise to his feet, "A wise decision, Lord Robb..." He nodded at me, "They will not recover from their loss. That is vengeance enough."
""Hear, hear..."" His fellow River Lords had the foresight to agree, or they had already discussed the matter amongst themselves.
"Are you daft, boy?!" Rickard Karstark roared from across the hall, slamming a great big fist on the long table, "Enough?! Is Eddard Stark worth so little we kill some green boys and go back!?"
In a way, he was right to be frustrated.
The North hadn't shed even a little blood, while the Riverlands had hunted down the Lannisters that had infiltrated their lands. It wouldn't be easy to convince the hot-blooded simpletons to go back where they came without even a single battle.
"Silence, Lord Karstark!" Catelyn hissed, fists clenched as she glared at the larger man, "I will not have you speak of my lord husband in this manner."
The gaunt Lord Karstark huffed and scowled in response before turning to Robb, "Is that it then, boy? You'll hide behind your mother?"
Robb didn't answer him... but he didn't need to.
The wolf under him riled from its rest and snarled, baring rows of white fangs that looked sharp enough to bite through steel, its golden eyes shimmered with wild ferocity as it approached Rickard Karstark.
"Do you have more humor to share, Lord Karstark?"
"I..." The older Lord ran a gaze around, noting the disapproval from his fellow lords and my silent amusement, "It is not enough. We are kin, we share blood... We do not let our blood be spilt and our honor be stained so."
...Rickard was quite the strange man.
Robb nodded, "I understand. But, my lords..." He looked at none of them, yet all of them at the same time, "Think of your sons, and your daughters... Do you wish to deprive them of a father as I have been? I do not want that for my people."
His words lingered in the air, and for a while, no one spoke up.
Robb Stark had shut them down by appealing to their baser instincts, and his bannermen seemed to respect him for it.
"Then what do you want?" I spoke up, standing in the middle of the hall with a small grin.
Calmly, Robb looked down at me with clear eyes, "I want to return to my home, Winterfell... and do right by my people as my father did before me. If Joffrey Baratheon wishes to disturb our peace, we shall take up our swords as our forefathers did... but until that day comes, we will look after our own. Winter is coming."
"A bloody harsh one from the looks of it." Greatjon guffawed, gulping down a flagon of ale, "I agree with him. As much as I'd love it, war would be fuckin' useless now. It's not like we want to conquer the bastards, is it?" He sent a sly grin at Roose Bolton, and all those that sat near him.
Galbart Glover, the unremarkable lord with dark hair to his neck and a long beard nodded plainly, offering his agreement.
I laughed slightly, "Peace then?"
"I'm afraid it's not that simple." It was Brynden Tully who spoke up, scratching his unshaven chin, "From the looks of it, Renly Baratheon got his hands on Margaery Tyrell and they've a hundred thousand swords between them. The little shit wants to be King."
"No doubt the bastard's been trying to swallow all hundred thousand of them." Greatjon jeered, and even the River Lords laughed with him, "We can't declare for an unright flowery bastard."
The hall rumbled in agreement, and no one stopped them... mostly because so far as medieval societies went, Renly had no claim to his older brother's throne whatsoever. It didn't matter what sort of King he could be.
Petyr Baelish chuckled, then sipped his wine, "If I may. I must express concern about Renly Baratheon. I was a young man then... as I am certain you all well remember. But even I recall what happened at Storm's End during King Robert's rebellion. Stannis Baratheon and his men starved, ate leather, for a year while Mace Tyrell feasted openly just beyond the walls."
"By the Gods, who the fuck talks like that? This ain't King's Landing. There's no royal arse for you to wipe with that tongue, boy." Greatjon bellowed again, receiving glares from several of the Vale Lords for insulting him.
"Be that as it may..." Petyr put on a strained smile, "I feel it is my duty to raise concerns about one who would betray his own blood for power."
The War Council had just started to look like a drawl when the opportunity for it to become presented itself to me... And, by Marika, I was never one to deny my flair for the dramatic.
So, I grinned and looked up at the former Master of Coin.
"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you? Betraying people for power?"
-
Hope you enjoyed.
Another should be up soon.
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In this chapter you see the more political side-effects of Karl's actions. In canon, the Northern Lords declare Robb King at Riverrun, but by then, he's won against both Tywin Lannister and Jaime Lannister and earned their complete respect (mostly). Here, Karl repelled the Lannisters before that and as such, they don't respect 'Robb' as much as they do his position as their sworn lord.
This is why they'd be largely unsusceptible and dissatisfied with him saying he wants peace if he didn't have sufficient backing, and see it as weak, save for the intelligent and more experienced ones who don't value glory and revenge above everything else. But Robb is Robb, and despite his naivete, he was still good at keeping his bannermen in check with stoicism.
At the same time, becoming King in the North and King of the Trident like the books is also impossible because the Riverlands here maintain their numbers, even if their supplies are dwindled by Lannister raiding before, so them declaring for him is out of the question.
Then, the only choice that remains is to wait the war out and declare for the victor or pick a side amongst the Baratheons.
I hope this maketh sense.
Comments
Potato
Ayo
Donovan
It indeed maketh sense sir author, and I already know Petyr is sweating his balls off right now.
