9 Chapter 9 Rodrik, Robb

Rodrik

Ser Rodrik watched the sunrise as the first rays of sun penetrated the mist and the shadows of the forest where he had been camped for two weeks.

Fifteen days ago, Ser Rodrik received a letter from Robb Stark, the so-called Winter Wolf and Lord of the North after Eddard Stark's death. The letter ordered him to travel to Dreadfort. Two weeks later, on the way, he received another letter instructing him to halt and set up camp exactly where he was at that moment.

Ser Rodrik could only sigh at Robb's mistrust, despite knowing him since birth.

Ser Rodrik didn't blame him, for he understood that Robb relied on his brother's magic, and explaining that might put him at a disadvantage in the war or make his lords consider him mad. He himself wouldn't have believed in magic if he hadn't witnessed it several times, like when Bran warged into ravens and spoke to Robb.

Although this was supposed to be an absolute secret, he was in charge of Winterfell's security and had learned of some disturbances. Now he tried to ensure this secret didn't leave Winterfell, at least until the war was over. Although he didn't fear that much, since even he, after witnessing it, had doubted until he had no choice but to accept it and take the necessary security measures to prevent the information from spreading. He had assigned a permanent guard for Bran.

On the other hand, despite being aware of everything, he pretended not to see anything. He preferred sparing Robb headaches, who already had enough bearing a war on his shoulders. Winterfell was under his care and the administration of Maester Luwin until Robb returned.

Ser Rodrik's thoughts were interrupted by a raven that approached. He extended his hand, and a letter fell into it. The raven continued flying and perched on a high branch to observe.

"This is serious," Rodrik thought.

The raven that delivered the letter was from Robb. Bran would simply crash it into his face; the boy lacked discipline and took everything as a game.

Ser Rodrik hastened to open the letter, which bore Robb's new seal: the head of a white direwolf with blue eyes. Ser Rodrik smiled upon seeing it. That was Ghost, Jon's wolf, but with Robb's blue eyes. No doubt, Robb was thinking of his family in choosing that seal, a subtle message for them.

The content of the letter was a direction they were to march to and a document, bearing the letterhead with the appropriate formal greetings and a seal at the bottom. It was an official document, and after reading it, Ser Rodrik clenched his fists.

"Form up!" Ser Rodrik angrily ordered his two hundred men, who were rising and tending to the horses.

Ten minutes later, two hundred well-formed men, equipped with light armor, spears, and a small number of bows, mounted their horses with him at the head.

…

An hour later, Ser Rodrik and his men charged against about fifteen men in a forest clearing. Without asking any questions, they brandished their swords and spears in a cavalry charge. Ser Rodrik rode to the left to kick one of the bandits who was on top of a woman.

Ser Rodrik halted his horse about three meters away and dismounted in one leap to rush forward, then drew his sword and cut down a dog that lunged at him. There were more dogs, but his men took care of them as he reached the woman. His men apprehended the bandit.

Ser Rodrik removed his cloak and handed it to the woman, a girl no older than fifteen who was all scratched and battered. The girl cried without fully understanding what was happening there.

"Miss, calm down. The Winter Wolf will give this bandit his just punishment," Ser Rodrik consoled as his men dragged the human trash in front of him.

The bandit was a young man, somewhat chubby, with a peasant appearance, but he wore leather armor and fine clothes. He was Ramsay Snow, the bastard son of Lord Roose Bolton, whose description was in Lord Stark's letter.

"Hold him!" Ser Rodrik ordered as he brandished his sword.

"No, I'm a lord…" one of his soldiers struck the unnatural creature, and when he fell to the ground, the others kicked him.

"Enough!" Ser Rodrik reprimanded, as these men had little experience as soldiers and guards, and were allowing their emotions to cloud their judgment.

The soldiers restrained the Bolton bastard, who could no longer scream because his jaw had been fractured. Rodrik pulled out the letter as they positioned him to face his trial. He read the document that came with the letter.

"I, Robb Stark, Lord of the North… For all these crimes and due to the irrefutable evidence of being caught in the act, declare that Ramsay Snow will be subjected to the law of the North and mine as his lord…"

…

After two weeks of marching, Ser Rodrik entered Winterfell through the main gate and called for some maids to attend to the young woman. Maester Luwin would then be responsible for documenting her testimony for his lord.

Ser Rodrik observed that a quarter of the courtyard was covered with carts carrying barrels of oil. Judging by the quantity, they would suffice to sustain Winterfell for about ten years, but Ser Rodrik knew this wasn't for Winterfell. Lord Stark must have new plans.

Ser Rodrik dismounted and handed his horse's reins to a stable boy. The captain of the guard on duty came out to give his report. Ser Rodrik observed the small army training in the courtyard as he listened to the report.

In his meeting with Robb at Moat Cailin, he had been told that upon his arrival at Winterfell, an army of a thousand peasants would be waiting for him, to be trained to wear armor, wield spears, bows, and ride horses.

Ser Rodrik hadn't understood at the time, as they lacked the weapons to equip them and horses were scarce. Nonetheless, he had followed the orders and trained the men as best he could.

Ser Rodrik hadn't known what the new Lord Stark was planning until, two months ago, a caravan of Braavosi traders arrived with weapons, armor, spears, and horses. Not only were they to equip the thousand men he was training, but they also left a supply at Winterfell alongside other war provisions. With that, the thousand constant-training peasants were armed into a formidable army.

Two hundred of these men had ridden at his side, and Ser Rodrik couldn't be more pleased with their mettle. Despite having only trained for five months, their equipment and loyalty to their lord made them a war-ready force.

After receiving the report from the captain of the guard, Ser Rodrik looked to Maester Luwin, who approached with young Bran, carried by Hodor. Beside them were young Rickon and the two direwolves, Shaggydog and Summer.

"Ser Rodrik, welcome back," Maester Luwin greeted.

"Why didn't Robb want us to follow him?" young Rickon asked.

"Young Rickon!" Maester Luwin exclaimed in frustration.

Ser Rodrik thought that keeping a strategic secret in the hands of children wouldn't last very long. He didn't expect it to go more than a year, so Lord Stark should hurry to win the war, or there would be trouble.

"Young Rickon, your brother sent me to bring the justice of the North to some bad men," Ser Rodrik informed.

"The bad men must die!" young Rickon declared.

Ser Rodrik agreed, but in this child's eyes, the bad men were those who had killed his father.

Ser Rodrik didn't nod, as the boy seemed restless every time he saw him. He had already told Maester Luwin to let him train Rickon to curb his mischief; the blood of the Starks could require discipline in some cases, and Ser Rodrik, who knew them, knew that young Rickon would be one of those cases.

The Starks even had a name for this: the Blood of the Wolf. Among the late Lord Eddard Stark's children, Arya Stark and now young Rickon were affected by this wolf's blood. As for the others, they were as calm as their father.

Ser Rodrik had heard rumors about Robb, but he had known Robb since birth, and the boy was just like his father: kind, attentive, righteous, kind-hearted, and of impeccable behavior. Undoubtedly, this was why the Old Gods had blessed him and bestowed their gifts upon him. All rumors about him were nonsense, gossip from the Lannisters and their enemies who didn't know how to face him and resorted to sneaky, dirty tactics to excuse their losses.

"Ser Rodrik, Lord Stark awaits your report," Maester Luwin said, interrupting his thoughts.

Ser Rodrik nodded. Indeed, there were secret orders once again for him and his small army.

…

Robb

"Gods, it's been three months just to get here! Grey Wind, if we don't hurry, we'll grow old in this war," Robb complained while riding his horse, stroking Grey Wind's head, who was beside him and already the size of a small horse.

Grey Wind licked his blood-stained mouth, but Robb quickly tapped his head.

"Spit it out! Spit it out!" Robb ordered, and Grey Wind growled, but then spat and looked at him with enmity. "Hey, do you want to be called the Vampire Wolf? I warn you, these northerners give some shitty names. Look at what they called Lord Bolton, they might call you the Leech Wolf," Robb cautioned.

Grey Wind was satiated with food and didn't need to scavenge corpses. Grey Wind obeyed and started cleaning himself and spitting. Robb heard a growl behind him and turned to see what was happening. He found two white-haired elders staring at him in disapproval.

"Gods! Dasey, Torren, what's happened to you? We've only been on the road for three months, it's not that bad!" Robb exclaimed, drawing the attention of those around him.

The boldest ones laughed at his joke, earning a threatening glance from the two elders, which didn't bode well for their future.

"Grey Wind, these are the dangers of getting too distracted. A blink, and your guards are a step away from the grave," Robb said shaking his head with mock regret.

"This is a battlefield, not a theater stage!" the old Karstark scolded, silencing the laughter of all. Robb made a face.

"Grandfather Karstark, you don't know any theater actors. There are those who give their lives on stage," Robb said shaking his head, remembering the actors from his life in another world, a job he found horrible. "But you're mistaken, this isn't a battlefield, just a slaughterhouse. Maybe they'll call me the Butcher Wolf now," Robb said, looking around.

"A bunch of kids!" Robb pointed to the corpses around him, some not even fourteen years old. "I'm just trying to distract those who spilled their hands with this blood for me a little," Robb said.

This was an army of recruits, and the expression on their men's faces wasn't the same as when they captured the Kingslayer or lifted the siege at Riverrun. The She-Bear approached him, and after a sigh, he stroked her head.

"Too much wisdom in such a young head," the She-Bear said, retracting her hand to observe the battlefield.

They had arrived at dawn and swept through the camp without facing opposition. Robb and his new battle guard had traversed the camp and reached their leader, who refused to surrender and ended up being cleaved in two by Grey Wind. It was a massacre. There was no resistance at all. Of course, it was a sword battle in a medieval world, and the enemy casualties didn't exceed a third; the rest fled, but those were just numbers, and he was seeing the corpses.

His battle guard moved closer, forming a semicircle around him, while the rest of the army collected the loot and checked if there were any wounded worth a few coins to be tended to. The rest, left agonizing on the ground. If their allies didn't return, they were doomed.

Robb looked at his new battle guard, led by old Karstark, whom he called grandfather because the elderly man considered himself his grandfather, and Robb had made it official, and the She-Bear, Maege Mormont.

The others were seasoned knights and the sons of the most stubborn lords among their vassals, whom he couldn't corrupt, and whose words couldn't be doubted, for if they said something happened a certain way, anyone who contradicted them would face the grave. This was the new way his lords attempted to control rumors about him and prevent his bad reputation from growing.

As for his old guard, they had suffered a tragic fate. After the thorny matter of the Kingslayer's arm, Dasey had nearly been disowned by her mother, who believed that in addition to crushing Jaime's arm while he was a prisoner, she had also lied about it. Dasey was nearly disinherited.

The same had happened with the rest of his battle guard; their parents believed they had lied to their faces, and some even received lashes. Crushing the Kingslayer's arm was serious, but undoubtedly lying to their parents about it was a heinous crime.

Of course, behind all this was Robb himself. He saw the opportunity and seized it. That his battle guard suffered a misfortune because of it was a small price in the broader context of things and for the future.

It all happened when the lords heard a rumor from peasants and knights that he and his battle guard had crushed the Kingslayer's arm after capturing him. His guard threatened to cut out the tongue of anyone who continued to spread such nonsense, but the lords, after asking their children about the matter, were unconvinced due to the persistent rumors. They went to ask Jaime, who insinuated that the rumors were true. However, Jaime was the dishonorable Kingslayer and could be lying. His lords approached Robb to confirm.

Then Robb saw the possibilities. Firstly, if he could get Jaime to forget about his sister and the war, he could secure a bodyguard for his brother Jon. This was because he knew how to manipulate Jaime, and if he did it right, every peasant who crossed his path would point a finger at him. He knew the direct path to Jaime's soul and could shatter it with a few well-directed words. It wasn't certain, but he had nothing to lose by trying, and Jon would need a strong protector as he was surrounded by cutthroats.

This was the riskier option, and Robb wouldn't compromise his battle guard for a plan with so many chances of failure. What sealed the fate of his battle guard was the second possibility, one Robb had considered before but had dismissed as impossible.

This second path involved sending his family with Daenerys, now that she was willing to listen and receive support. For this, he needed representative figures from the North and its lords; mercenaries or peasants weren't enough. But if Robb were to propose to his lords to send some of them or their heirs with Daenerys Targaryen, he would lose all their trust, and they would undoubtedly think he was mad. Mentioning dragons would make him seem even more unhinged. That's why he had discarded this plan; it simply couldn't be executed.

Robb had given up and was already devising other plans against his political aunt. However, seeing his lords looking at him with murderous expressions and asking if his children had dared to lie to their faces, Robb mentally shrugged. It was fate. It wasn't his fault; this could only be the gods giving him a path of survival for the North and the Seven Kingdoms; he was just a small instrument.

Robb proceeded to be just as vague as Jaime and insinuate that the Kingslayer wasn't lying and that his battle guard had lied to them.

When Robb finished responding to them, his lords grew several inches taller in fury, and their faces turned red. Some cursed their children before turning around and leaving the lords' chamber.

The next thing Robb heard were pitiful whimpers and words like "I swear, Mother" or "I swear, Father" "the Winter Wolf and the Kingslayer are lying."

Robb was quite surprised by his lords' brutality. Although their children were adults, some were nearly thirty years old, and they were beaten for daring to blatantly lie to their parents and then refusing to admit it.

That was a tragic day for his battle guard. Their parents threatened to disown them, and all their friends shared the same fate. The only lucky one was Wendel Manderly, whose father was in White Harbor and couldn't beat him. However, he was as worried as the others, and Robb found him the next day trying to send an apology letter to his father. Wendel was clever, and upon seeing him, he immediately asked what Robb wanted from him. Robb explained that he could regain his honor and his father's trust, and if he followed his orders, he would return laden with glory and honor. Wendel sighed and agreed, promising to take his closest friends, who were knights, with him.

Robb felt satisfied with his success and then addressed the other members of his battle guard. Next were Torrhen Karstark and his brother. Unfortunately for them, they were just as stubborn as their father, and upon seeing him, they tried to hit him to force him to tell the truth, forgetting that he was their lord. Before speaking, Robb had to step back and let his ten-man guard give them a beating to remind them who was in charge and that they shouldn't take liberties with the chain of command. Once they were bruised and bloodied, Robb explained his plan, and upon hearing it, they spat on the ground and growled. Robb ordered them to be beaten again and left them to reflect.

The next on the list were Dasey and her sisters. Apparently, the women were more reasonable, because after their guards beat them, they spat on the ground, promised revenge if he was lying, and accepted his plan.

Robb repeated the same procedure with the others, and the next day, his battle guard and closest allies were already preparing for his plan, while he was busy making Jaime lose interest in staying in the Seven Kingdoms. If he succeeded, he would eventually reveal the truth about Jon to Jaime, but he wouldn't tell him his intention to send him to the Wall to prevent him from contradicting it. With Rhaegar's son on the Wall, if he achieved what he wanted, Jaime would follow suit.

After setting his battle guard on the right path and securing a bodyguard for Jon, the only thing bothering Robb was Theon. Theon hadn't been included from the start since the lords loathed him and accused him of corrupting him and his children; they simply hated him.

His lords wanted to imprison Theon, but Robb took advantage of Theon proposing to return to Pyke and speak with his father to join the war, and thus get rid of him. For this, Robb simply ordered that he be allowed to go, and to the lords who asked, he gave them a look to remind them that he was their lord and could give orders without giving explanations to anyone.

Now his plans were in motion. Jaime was at the Wall, and his battle guard and over a hundred and fifty men-at-arms were accompanying his sisters on their diplomatic journey. If his plans succeeded, which was very likely, in the future, if they survived the war, they wouldn't have to worry about being burned alive. That's why Robb wouldn't hesitate to make some sacrifices. And if he was willing, of course, his battle guard would have to be too, since they had sworn to defend his life, even if it meant sacrificing their own.

Robb hadn't asked them to sacrifice their lives; they had only received some lashes and many slaps, things that healed easily.

As for his own reputation, there wasn't much he could do. As long as he didn't become a monster like Tywin or a snake like the Freys, he'd be fine. He could deal with mistrust, as it was a thousand times preferable to death. Robb had also come to the conclusion that in order to act freely, it was vital for his lords to learn about most of his plans only after they bore fruit. In most cases, such as his plans for his political aunt and her dragons, they would look at him like a madman if he exposed all their contents. Therefore, keeping part of his plans secret was of vital importance.

As for his lords, Robb could only sigh at the Northmen's sensitivity. Although his old battle guard hated him to death, and some even drew their knives to show them to him when he fired them for soiling their honor and their parents' trust by making them threatened with disinheritance, the world would thank them later.

…

Robb waited, observing the Oxenford Pass, the name of the place where the Lannister army trained. It was a sort of clearing amidst the mountains and it hadn't been easy for them to get there. The journey had taken three months through the mountains, while on a normal route, it wouldn't have taken more than fifteen days. In this world without cars or roads, everything moved at the pace of a tortoise, and yet, it seemed too fast. Robb looked at Great Jon who was approaching.

"Great Jon, announce to our men that they'll each receive fifty silver stags for our victory and get ready to besiege a castle as soon as possible," Robb ordered.

The men around him cheered, and Great Jon hurried to announce the reward to everyone.

"Good way to retire without it seeming like you're retiring," old Karstark said with a furrowed brow.

Robb smiled; he took pride in instilling common sense into this stubborn old man's mind.

"Don't inflate his ego any more, it's already swollen enough," the She-Bear reprimanded. Robb sighed.

…

An hour later, his army marched toward a nearby castle. Walking beside him was the old Stevron Frey. Robb liked this old man as he was a diplomat, and unlike his Northern lords, he didn't dismiss his plans as scandalous. In fact, he never seemed scandalized by any of his plans at any time.

"Ser Stevron, my condolences for your loss," Robb said. "Send my regards to your lord father and assure him he'll be compensated with Lannister blood and also with Lannister coin from our conquests," Robb added.

Ser Stevron looked at him and nodded solemnly.

"Walder was a man of battle," the old Ser Stevron said diplomatically.

Robb knew that even among the Freys, Walder Frey, known as Walder the Black, had a terrible reputation. Even his siblings hated him and called him Walder the Black.

In Robb's opinion, the guy was a talker, but not like Great Jon. He was the kind of talker who just spewed rubbish from his mouth and dared to talk about sleeping with his own brothers' and cousins' wives.

Robb had left him alone because he was just a common vermin, and he was satisfied with not engaging with him and giving him a cold shoulder every time he tried to approach. But the guy had the audacity to want to murder Ser Stevron. Robb was stunned by his plans, in which he counted on the collaboration of some others who had accompanied him to the grave in this battle.

Robb was surprised when Bran, who had also told him about the things Walder the Black muttered, informed him that he planned to kill someone. The plan was good, and it was possible that no one would notice. Maybe it had happened in the books he had read in his other life too, but his own story wasn't told much in that life, only what people said. That's why there were many blank spaces. Robb only knew that Ser Stevron would die on this journey, which would cause a disaster in the Frey organization. That's why he kept an eye on him. He had no Idea if he had been murdered or if this had to do with him and his rebirth.

Whatever it was, now Walder the Black wouldn't be able to kill anyone else. In the battle, his horse reared up, threw him to the ground, and delivered a precise kick to his mouth, driving his helmet halfway into his skull and causing immediate death.

"Walder was a warrior," Robb said, and Ser Stevron nodded solemnly.

"Lord Stark, my father would find more solace if along with his condolences, my lord would send something more significant," the old Ser Stevron suggested, testing the waters.

"Speak freely, Ser Stevron," Robb said with a nonchalant tone, although he knew this would be a conversation about his future wife.

Ser Stevron's eyes lit up, and Robb knew that Walder the Black wasn't highly regarded in his family. Although, given his big mouth, that was to be expected, and he vaguely recalled something about him in his memories from another life. However, he must have been a minor character as his past self had seen him as a common vermin, nothing like Ramsay, Tywin, Lord Bolton, or the Mountain, who were the monsters he needed to deal with. Lord Bolton was on his side for now, but that depended on how he responded to Robb's letters about his bastard's fate.

"My lord, I know the war is not yet over, but these conflicts can be enduring. It's best to secure the succession before continuing the war, as your lord father once did before King Robert's Rebellion against the Targaryens," Ser Stevron said.

Robb supposed that if he died in the war, Lord Frey would be pleased to have secured his heir and prevented the child from leaving the Twins until properly educated to lead the Freys. He, unlike his father, couldn't entrust his wife and a potential heir with his father-in-law, as it could bring disaster to the North.

"Ser Stevron, I'm aware of the dangers of this war, but I don't have time to ensure an offspring unless my future wife takes the path of battle with me. Nor am I going to lie to you, I don't expect our war to end soon, as there's more at stake than meets the eye," Robb said, who knew about the White Walkers and was already working to confront them. He also had to make sure Daenerys didn't invade the Seven Kingdoms, so if he survived this war, he would have to face those other two wars.

If Robb did the math, his marriage wouldn't happen for another three or four years. Most likely, he would have to travel across the sea before that, and all this, only if he survived this war.

Ser Stevron took his warning seriously and thought for several minutes.

"My lord, the women in my family are quite determined when it comes to following their husbands, and if my lord permits, I believe the chosen one wouldn't hesitate to follow the camp. Therefore, your wedding could take place once we return to the Riverlands. Only one night would be necessary for the betrothal, and with your ease in sending messages, there would be no problems making preparations," Ser Stevron proposed. "Does my lord have any candidates in mind?" he added.

Robb thought. The only Freys he knew were Walda Frey, known as "the plump one," and Roslin Frey, who was said to be beautiful. And he only knew this from his memories of his other life because when he crossed the Twins, he was only focused on crossing the river in a futile attempt to save his father, ultimately arriving too late. However, Robb considered that he knew enough to make a decision, as per his memories, Roslin Frey was beautiful and fertile, and that alone would make his mother content.

If it turned out in the end that his children didn't have very pleasing features, his mother couldn't blame him, as that was the best there was. As for love, he hadn't experienced anything like it in his previous life, and being a lord, he didn't expect much from this life. In fact, he didn't expect anything from his own life, as if he survived the war and saved his family, that would already be a great achievement for him.

Waiting for love was asking for too much, and expecting happiness from someone to share his life with was even more. He didn't have time for love, and the only happiness he desired wasn't for himself, as his goal from the start was to ensure his family's survival. He still didn't forgive himself for the potential tragedy his actions might leave his family in an uncertain future. That was something he would never forgive himself for.

"I've heard of Roslin, they say she's very beautiful, and her age is appropriate as well. My lady mother will be content," Robb said. Ser Stevron smiled pleasedly.

"My lord, I assure you the rumors fall short, Roslin is one of the greatest beauties in this realm," affirmed Ser Stevron.

"Beauty," Robb said, savoring the word.

In his first life, he had seen women who could make half the world drool, but he never felt anything for them. He was embittered; everything seemed shallow and unimportant. In his second life, as Robb Stark, he was too young to have a great perspective on the matter. Now he didn't even know if he could be happy. Could Roslin Frey make him happy and be happy by his side?

Robb shook his head in his mind; in this world, even the wealthy were unfortunate individuals, and perhaps this Roslin Frey would be one of them. Could he be a good husband? Wasn't mutual trust an essential requirement in a partnership? He didn't even trust his own mother. Since being reborn in this life, he hardly trusted himself, and there were too many things beyond his control to feel secure alongside someone. Robb sighed inwardly. He couldn't do anything about it; he had duties to fulfill, just like his potential future wife.

"Ser Stevron, then my betrothed has been decided, and as soon as we return to the Riverlands, we will have a wedding," Robb declared. Ser Stevron seemed like he wanted to applaud.

…

Five days later, Robb was in his tent, sitting on his knees with vacant eyes, his guards standing watch outside, and Grey Wind keeping watch by his side. Robb hadn't sent Catelyn Stark to negotiate with Renly because he didn't have hopes that he would back down. Still, Robb intended to save Brienne of Tarth, and he had to admit he was doing it on a mere whim, as he didn't have a specific plan for her. Only his feelings from his past life drove him not to abandon her, so he was determined to act, even if he gained nothing from it, as it was a whim.

Robb watched from the front row how events unfolded when Stannis besieged Storm's End with a small army and Renly arrived right into the jaws of the Wolf to be killed.

At that moment, Robb had infiltrated Renly's tent using a field mouse and observed from the roof beams of the tent as he prepared for the battle he supposedly would have with Stannis.

Next to Renly, and to Robb's disappointment, was Brienne of Tarth, who had earned the right to be one of his Kingsguard, which Renly called the Rainbow Guard. Brienne was helping Renly put on his armor while he chattered nonsense with Loras Tyrell about the battle that would never take place and how their soldiers would look better. Robb, who knew this would be his end as he hadn't intervened, and Stannis had been forced to resort to Melisandre to gain an edge over his brother, watched and waited to see it all. He didn't wait in vain, as a strange sensation suddenly appeared in his mind, approaching Renly's tent like a fierce wind from Stannis' camp.

"Blood magic," pronounced the Three-Eyed Crow, his expert on such matters, and Robb asked him to come to give his opinion, scientific… well, magical in this case.

"Quickly, get Brienne out of there!" Robb urged, just as a snake's head emerged in Renly's tent, and he saw it and screamed.

Brienne didn't hesitate and drew her sword to chase it, while Loras protected Renly and Robb rolled his eyes at all the drama. However, their objective was achieved as Brienne exited the tent, but three other guards entered to see what was happening, just as the shadow of Melisandre appeared and materialized behind Renly, wielding a long dagger. One of the guards who entered saw the shadow and lunged at Renly, knocking them both down. They screamed indignantly until they saw the shadow looming over them and moving to reach its target.

While this happened, the other two guards who saw the shadow ran after their companion and managed to divert its attention as he fell alongside Renly. However, only for a second, as with a single movement that was like a whispering wind, their throats were slit simultaneously, and they fell to their knees, futilely clutching their necks.

After falling and turning around, Renly, Loras, and the other guard saw their kneeling companions with slashed throats, but there was no time to do anything more. Loras lay on one side; he would never manage to get up in time to do anything. The shadow was already in position over Renly, and the guard who had thrown himself onto him could only embrace him and try to shield him with his own body, which was clad in steel armor.

The guard's eyes widened alongside Renly's when the shadow's sword pierced through both of them, as if their armor wasn't there, and their bodies were made of butter. There wasn't even a sound, and as the sword was pulled out, they had already lost consciousness. The shadow didn't immediately disappear, but instead looked at the mouse that he and the Three-Eyed Crow used to spy on everything, and then faded away.

At that moment, Brienne returned. Not even ten seconds had passed, and she was back, having heard the clash of armor between Renly, Loras, and the guard that crashed into them. Brienne saw Renly bleeding and ran towards him, pushing the guard off Loras, who had managed to get to his feet by then. Renly half-opened his eyes and mumbled something, but the shadow had plunged the sword into his heart, and he was doomed.

"I know what blood magic is," Robb said calmly, as he didn't know anyone there, and the person he cared about had stayed out of it.

In terms of death, he was fifty years old in his previous life and fourteen as Robb Stark, he had witnessed many deaths, some gruesome and suffocating, he didn't feel anything special about these.

"I want to know how I can defend myself against it," he added.

"It's a magic with limited range, a few kilometers. It also requires a high price, which takes years of life from whoever is used to create the shadow. A common person wouldn't withstand this kind of malevolent magic and would die outright. To defend yourself against it, you'll need a Valyrian steel sword, the breath of a dragon, or a powerful light spell on an obsidian dagger," the Three-Eyed Crow said.

Robb didn't have any of those things at his disposal, although he knew where to find a Valyrian steel sword, which in fact rightfully belonged to him. He would make sure to reclaim Ice when the time came, as he knew it was safely kept in King's Landing.

…

Robb continued to observe the situation. Renly's other guards and lords arrived, and upon not seeing anyone else but Brienne and Loras crying by Renly's corpse, they didn't think of anything better than accusing them of his murder. Not that there were many options, as it was evident that there had been a fight, and Renly's tent was surrounded from all sides, making them the prime suspects, but their grief seemed genuine.

If he were Robb, he would think twice before jumping to conclusions. But the lords didn't have time for that, as news of Renly's death spread like a gunpowder explosion, and the camp turned into a chaotic mess of people trying to flee for their lives or figuring out how the hell they were going to extricate themselves from the mess they had gotten into by supporting a king who was now dead.

…

Robb personally observed the situation for the next two nights. The lords of the Stormlands rushed to swear loyalty to Stannis, while the red priestess clamored for more attention and favor from Stannis. She was aware of his presence, but she didn't say anything to Stannis about it.

Robb had other objectives in mind as well. He had Bran keeping an eye on King's Landing, where Tyrion was preparing the city's defenses according to Robb's expectations while seeking allies and involving Dorne in the war, though Doran Martell only gave him evasive responses. His attempt to make a pact with the Greyjoys would likely end just as poorly. Robb didn't notice much difference in their behavior.

Tyrion had wildfire that could be launched upwards thanks to the caches left by Aerys, but it couldn't be used in a battle, as even an arrow could cause a disaster if it broke a container. On the other hand, its strategic use was limited due to its volatility. Robb knew that eventually, Tyrion would be forced to use it as a strategic weapon, which was his current plan. He was keeping an eye on developments in that direction. If the plans of some of his enemies caught him off guard while he was watching them, he certainly deserved to die. The dangers for him were the ones coming head-on, like Tywin's army at Harrenhal, the White Walkers, or a possible army led by Daenerys with dragons breathing fire down on his head.

Robb also had his own eyes busy, occasionally watching the Ironborn and Petyr Baelish, who was now within his reach. He had everything planned to give Baelish a farewell worthy of his status as the murderer of his father, but it wasn't the right time. Baelish's death couldn't be coincidental; it had to be something that happened at a significant moment for Baelish. When Baelish felt that his moment of glory and opportunity had arrived, his death would come, thwarting his hopes, dreams, and plans.

NA 1: Ramsay was one of Robb's targets, but since Roose didn't confront Tywin at the Green Fork, Lady Hornwood didn't lose her husband. Robb ordered the men to surrender during the ambush on Tywin Lannister, so both Lady Hornwood's son and husband are still alive and were exchanged. Therefore, Ramsay wouldn't attack from that direction. However, you could always count on Ramsay to do something crazy, and Robb just had to wait for him to initiate one of his so-called hunts to get rid of him.

NA 2: Now you know what Robb plans with his guard and how they ended up exiled.

NA 3: As we can see, some things change due to the MC's intervention, but where he steps aside, everything remains the same. Stannis turns to Melisandre because he doesn't have enough men, Tyrion plans the defenses of King's Landing, and Renly is killed by Melisandre. The Martells remain in Dorne without interfering in the war, just like Lysa Arryn.

NA 4: The war has resumed in this chapter and will continue in the next. For those who want a reference for the timeline, seven months have passed since Robb left Winterfell.

NA: Don't forget to leave your comments, bookmark, follow, and subscribe.