Chapter 107 104

The Riverlands. The Northern Camp. 298 AC.

Robb Stark.

This is a catastrophe.

The news of his father's capture had knocked the ground from under him, and the knowledge of his own part in it had left him hollow. His father had warned him, had tried to reason with him, and Robb had walked him straight into a Lannister trap. After a few hours of tormenting himself, he remembered what he had been taught and understood that problems needed solving, not whimpering over like a kicked dog. He was Robb Stark of Winterfell, son of Eddard Stark, the man who had brought down the greatest dynasty the continent had ever known, and he had no right to despair while his family was in captivity.

"Mother," he cut off her words. "We need to call a council and make decisions."

"Your grandfather has died, and I would like us to say farewell to him as a family." He had known Lord Hoster Tully poorly, but the man's death had struck his mother hard. She wanted the family to gather for the funeral at Riverrun.

"The dead no longer care, and the living will not wait." He quoted something from an old book. "Forgive me, but Father matters more." It pained him to watch her torn between grief for a dead grandfather and fear for a captive husband.

"Let us go to Riverrun." She would be no help to him here, but within the walls of her childhood home she might find some peace.

The war council was assembled before long. Since the main tent could not hold all the lords, the meeting was moved to the center of the camp. Four long trestle tables were arranged in a rough square. Hoster Tully, too weak to represent his house in his final weeks, had until recently been absent from such gatherings, and his place was now taken by Edmure Tully, Robb's uncle, who wore an unfamiliar expression of grim severity. His father's bannermen occupied the seats on either side of both tables. The fame of the Young Wolf, of Ned Stark, and the arrival of the king had drawn in dispossessed lords from across the region, and they were streaming into camp in growing numbers.

Karyl Vance entered and took his father's seat, the elder Vance having died in the failed assault on the Golden Tooth. Beside him sat Ser Marq Piper, Lord Jonos Bracken of the ruins of Stone Hedge, Lord Tytos Blackwood who had chosen a seat as far from his ancient rival as possible, and another dozen lords of modest individual standing whose numbers together made them a force. The northern lords sat across from them, arrayed around Robb, facing Edmure. There were fewer of them now, a significant portion having been sent to serve under King Stannis. the Greatjon sat at Robb's left hand, Theon Greyjoy beside him. Galbart Glover and Lady Mormont were to his right. Torrhen Karstark, the younger son of the lord of Karhold, sat a little apart from the others. He was gaunt, hollow-eyed, unwashed, his hair uncombed. His father, Lord Rickard Karstark, had ridden out with Ned Stark and his fate was still unknown. His two elder brothers had given their lives against the lions, and so a large family had been reduced in an instant to just him and little Alys.

The arguments stretched on until nightfall. Every lord had the right to speak, and speak they did, shouting and cursing and reasoning and joking and bargaining with one another. Robb sat and listened. The capture of Lord Stark, the man whose personal loyalty had held the North and the Trident together in Stannis's cause, had done serious damage to the spirits of everyone present. The middle Baratheon was no favorite among the lords, and it had been the Quiet Wolf's presence alone that had restrained the sharpest impulses of dissent.

Many of the bannermen argued for marching on the Golden Tooth, linking up with the king's army, and finally taking that castle to open the way west. There they could capture enough highborn lords to exchange for their own prisoners. Others proposed staying put and waiting for the king's orders. It was an unpopular position, but Stannis was an experienced commander, and acting without him might put everyone at risk. Some simply said to wait.

"Swearing to Stannis was a mistake," Lord Blackwood said. "He is simply using us. Why should my men's lives be spent buying him a throne? If we had declared for Renly..."

"Renly is not the king. He is Stannis's younger brother," Lord Bracken said, as he almost always did.

"Yes, but Renly has been crowned," said Piper. "The Reach and the Stormlands stand behind his claim, and the Dornish won't wait long before declaring for him either. If the North and the Trident go to him as well, every Lannister head will be on a spike within the month."

"Rubbish. The Mad King's granddaughter sits in Dorne, coiled like a snake, waiting for her moment," Karyl Vance said. "Yes, Renly is strong, no one disputes that, but he has enemies enough. We should stand firm for King Stannis to the end."

"So we wait for King Stannis, then?"

After hours of argument, the fire had gone out of the room, and a tired silence settled over the assembly.

"My lords," came his mother's voice, unexpected. "Is this war truly so necessary to us?"

"You are a woman, my lady," the Greatjon rumbled. "Women do not grasp such matters."

"Perhaps I am no student of tactics or strategy, but I have common sense. You took up arms at Ned's call when the Lannisters were ravaging the Riverlands. We wanted to protect ourselves."

"Your husband wished for King Stannis to take his brother's throne as the rightful lord of the Seven Kingdoms," Lord Bracken reminded the room of that small detail.

"Thank you, Lord Bracken. There were two purposes. One of them has been achieved. The other is very much in doubt. I will mourn the dead for the rest of my days, but first I must think of the living. I want my children back. I want my husband back. If kneeling is the price of that, I will call it a good bargain and thank the gods for it. I want this war to end and I want to go home with my family."

"Peace." Torrhen said the word slowly, as though tasting it. "Peace is a fine jest, my lady. But on what terms? What did my brothers die for, what did my father march for, if I return to Karhold with nothing but their bones and leave their killers unpunished?"

"Precisely," Lord Bracken said. "The Lannisters stripped my lands bare, cut down my people, and left my castle a smoldering ruin. Am I to kneel before them and lick their boots for the privilege? What did we fight for, if everything returns to what it was?" To everyone's surprise, Lord Blackwood voiced his agreement with his blood enemy.

"My lords, the day has been long and it is time we retired," Robb said, seeing that the lords were close to turning on his mother. He moved quickly to close the meeting. "I will send word to the king with a proposal. The Golden Tooth is blocked. They cannot reach the capital from herel. We will seal it and wait for the king's decision."

The lords grumbled, but none contested the decision, and they dispersed without further incident.