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GOT Chapter 90: The Storm Over Raventree
🕑 Added 2025-08-25 05:57:58 +0000 UTCThat night, the cavalry failed to set camp as planned at Oldstones Castle, and instead hastily made do with a night’s rest in a village that
That night, the cavalry failed to set camp as planned at Oldstones Castle, and instead hastily made do with a night’s rest in a village that, despite being half destroyed, had not suffered too grievously.
In the end, Kal chose not to resupply there.
After all, this poor village had already been ravaged by Lannister raiding parties, and it was no longer fit for further exploitation.
And besides, he now had a better idea.
So, over the next two days, across the lands north of Riverrun in the Riverlands, the hooves of a spirited cavalry squad churned the mud, galloping swiftly toward their next destination.
Raventree Hall.
The seat of House Blackwood, it lay in a fertile and abundant valley, with wide, expansive lands.
Yet the family banner that once belonged to House Blackwood—red field, with a dead weirwood tree circled by black ravens upon a black escutcheon—was now tossed into a nearby campfire, used as fuel to roast a plump lamb.
As for the castle itself, the two massive square towers guarding its gate now bore golden banners of the roaring lion of House Lannister.
At a glance, at least a thousand Lannister soldiers could be seen stationed within the captured fortress.
“My lord, at least around a thousand!”
From a concealed perch atop the valley’s trees, Hall crouched amidst thick branches, spying on Raventree Hall below.
He shaded his brow with his hand, carefully studying the scene ahead.
“Matches what that man said,” Kossi muttered beneath the tree, nodding as he listened, still unable to forget the soldier of House Lannister he had once tortured for such information.
“Alright, come down.”
Having compared both accounts and confirmed the intelligence, Kal gestured for Hall to climb down.
True to his name as a quicksword, Hall’s movements were deft; in a few swift motions, he descended from the tree.
“Boss—ah, cough, Lord Kal, what should we do now?”
As Hall landed, Kossi caught his arm to steady him, then turned back toward Kal, who sat upon a great stone behind them, and asked in a low voice.
But to his question, Kal merely shook his head, then rose from the boulder.
“We’ll speak of it once we return. I’ve already memorized most of the terrain around here.”
As he finished, Kal stretched out his boot and wiped away the rough markings he had carved into the stone with his dagger.
Hearing his command, Kossi and Hall exchanged an instinctive glance before quietly obeying, retracing their path back. Yet in their eyes lingered a trace of unease.
By the time the three of them wound their way through the forest and returned to a temporary camp concealed in the woods outside the valley, at least an hour had passed.
No sooner had Kal returned than he summoned the squad leaders, quickly briefing them on what he had observed at Raventree Hall.
“The Lannisters have too many men gathered here.”
“And from the information we’ve obtained, this is even after they split off nearly two thousand troops elsewhere once they took the castle.”
“Those dispersed forces treat this place as their base. They could return at any time.”
“Then what should we do? Do we need to retreat for now?”
“A frontal assault is no solution. Even ignoring the tents outside the walls, the castle alone is far beyond what two hundred men can hope to take.”
“Not to mention, we are cavalry.”
Within the circle of a dozen men, voices rose and fell, each weighing the advantages and drawbacks before them.
Though the scene was noisy and chaotic, the points raised filled in gaps no single man could have considered on his own.
Yet as Kal listened to their arguments in turn, the central tone was unmistakably grim.
Everyone agreed: if they attempted to attack the castle with their current numbers and strength, it would be no more than striking an egg against stone.
In plain terms, it was impossible.
And extending from this, their speculation about the valley below grew even more unsettling, leaving little room for optimism.
“Captain Kal, perhaps we should suspend our mission and plans for now, fall back a little, and send word of what we’ve discovered?”
Jory Cassel looked to Kal as he offered his suggestion. He no longer held much confidence in their present course of action.
Especially when they had only two hundred men.
To make his words more persuasive, Jory went on, expanding his reasoning.
“After all, with Riverrun completely encircled, Tywin Lannister has freed his hand to press deeper into the Riverlands.”
“Other places don’t have fortresses as strong as Riverrun.”
“And now, not just south of the Red Fork—even north of it, most of the land has already been overrun by Lannister forces!”
“If we keep pushing deeper into enemy territory under these conditions, it’s only a matter of time before our little company is discovered—and when that happens, what awaits us is encirclement.”
At the deputy captain’s words, the gathered men fell silent in unspoken agreement, listening to the exchange.
As Jory Cassel voiced his concerns, the others realized that even the deputy captain himself no longer had faith in the original plan.
And once his reasoning was laid out, heads around the circle nodded in quiet agreement.
Given the situation, pressing forward would only mean throwing their lives away.
Two hundred cavalry attacking a fortress entrenched in a valley—whether right or wrong was beside the point.
The simple fact was that more than a thousand men guarded those walls. However one looked at it, the idea was absurd.
Even pushing farther south no longer seemed realistic—the difficulty of the mission had increased drastically.
Only a fool would willingly dive straight into the enemy’s pocket.
Yet to all the persuasion and counsel, Kal—the one who had called this meeting, and the man upon whom the final decision rested—only kept his head tilted upward, gazing at the sky, as though the discussion had nothing to do with him.
And just as Jory Cassel was urging him to abandon the mission, Kal suddenly lifted a hand, fingers spread wide above his head, narrowing his eyes as if to feel the air passing through his fingertips.
Then, without preamble, he asked, “How long has this Long Summer lasted?”
At his words, the group froze, caught off guard, unable to grasp what he meant.
Watching his strange gesture, Jon, who had been quietly listening at the side, thought for a moment before deciding to answer honestly.
“Almost ten years now. I remember Lord Eddard Stark speaking of it often.”
“He would always say that Bran, never having lived through a winter, was a child who had never seen the true cold.”
At Jon’s reply, Kal gave a faint smile and lowered the hand with which he had been feeling the wind.
But his gaze remained fixed on the sky overhead.
“Yes… this Long Summer has lasted nearly ten years. Who can say when autumn will finally come? And it seems winter may already be drawing near.”
As his words fell, the wind swept through the leaves with a soft rustle. Above, the heavy clouds pressed low, so close it seemed one might reach out and touch them.
At the mention of the seasons, the Northmen present all grew solemn, their expressions shadowed by caution.
Winter—a word that carried dread.
And seeing Kal still speak in riddles rather than give a direct answer, Jory Cassel finally pressed bluntly, “So what should we do now, Lord Kal? The king said we are to follow your command.”
“Tonight, there may be a heavy rain. And if I’m not mistaken…”
At last, facing the restless eyes fixed upon him, Kal lowered his head from the sky.
“In midsummer, rain always comes suddenly—swift, fierce, and utterly without warning!”
...
Night had fallen—midnight hours.
A sudden violent wind howled through, whipping across the mountains, setting trees, flowers, and grasses to rustling in chorus.
[Boom!]
Immediately after came a blinding flash of lightning that tore across the night sky, as though ripping the heavens apart.
That bright arc of bluish-violet light flared suddenly within the clouds high above, lingered for a heartbeat, and then vanished as swiftly as it had come.
What it left behind was only the afterimage etched deep on the retina, refusing to fade, before a deafening roar finally followed, shaking the earth itself.
Behind Blackwood Vale, on a hill not too tall that rose with its back to Raventree Hall—
Because it faced the sun, the Blackwood family had planted it full with fruit trees.
Groves upon groves, clustered and lush, beautiful in their abundance.
But under the shroud of night, none saw the two-hundred-strong company that had climbed over the ridge behind the vale, slipping quietly down the slanted slope, and now stealing into the orchard closest to Raventree Hall.
[Boom—!]
Again thunder rolled across the sky.
But before the roar came crashing down, the lightning’s glare illuminated the glinting eyes of Northern cavalrymen spread across the ground.
They were not mounted now. Fully armored, they crouched in silence within the orchard.
Over their leather or chainmail, each wore a waxed woolen rain-cloak.
[Drip.]
Suddenly, the faintest sound of water striking leaves broke the silence.
Within ten seconds, the isolated drops had turned into a sheet of rainfall.
As the storm arrived on cue, Kal lowered his head, tugged down the brim of his hood, and in a low, rapid voice spoke to the dozen men at his side: “Listen up. Our first target is to seize Raventree Hall and secure the city gate on our side as fast as possible!”
“I know our numbers are too few, but that doesn’t matter—we don’t need this castle itself.”
“Our purpose is to slaughter as many Lannister soldiers as possible, nothing else for now!”
“Understood?!”
“Understood—!” The orchard rang with their responses, voices rising against the rain at Kal’s final order before battle.
“Good.”
“Then move out—I’ll go first!”
With that, Kal did not hesitate.
He flung back his hood and stretched out his hand.
In it gleamed a hooked claw, the rope coiled behind it secured at his waist.
Before Jory and the others could react, lightning flashed across the stormy night, and in those ghostlike, flickering steps, Kal had already vanished from their sight, scaling the great tower.
“Follow him, move!”
While the others still hesitated, Jon Snow was the first to spring forward. He drew the longsword at his waist with a sharp cry, threw back his hood, and dashed ahead.
Seeing even this green recruit so eager, the Northern cavalry would not be outdone. One after another they drew their blades and charged forward through the soil beneath their boots, already turning slick and muddy in the storm.
