Chapter 24

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Gregor was especially careful to avoid the Crossing. He had no desire to go anywhere near the Twins, if he could help it.

Instead, he searched for the narrowest, shallowest part of the Green Fork. Once he did, he and his company forded the river.

That took much longer than it would have to simply use a bridge, but to Gregor, the extra effort was worth it.

Just being that close to Walder Frey and his den of weasels made him feel unclean.

Anyway, once Gregor and his men were assembled on the eastern shores of the Green Fork, they went almost directly northward.

The terrain was just as alien to them, but there were fewer settlements in the northern part of the Riverlands. So they did not have to alter their course as often.

What none of them – not even Gregor – had anticipated was the sudden drop in temperature.

Having grown up in the northern half of the United States, Gregor was accustomed to cold weather.

However, Seattle was a relatively temperate city.

Winters and summers were both typically bearable. It had generally been the same in Austin and Fairfax.

The moment he crossed over into the Neck, Gregor could literally feel the change in climate. His companions could, as well.

"Gods, it's fookin' cold," Dunsen mumbled, tightening his cloak.

"Oh, it gets better," Rafford muttered sarcastically, "From what I hear, this is normal for summer."

"So that's why the Starks' words are 'winter is coming,'" Tobbot muttered.

'That's ONE of the reasons. What are they complaining about, anyway? It can't be less than fifty-five degrees right now.'

"Get used to it, boys," Gregor advised his men, "Remember we're here on the King's business."

"That's all well and good, Ser," Chiswyck proclaimed, "So long as the King don't mean for us to freeze our balls off."

"Well, don't take 'em out as often," Gregor cheekily proposed, "If you can help yourself, that is."

The other men-at-arms got a good laugh at the jest. Chiswyck laughed with them, even though it was made at his expense. After that, no one said anything else about the frigid weather for the duration of the trek.

All of Gregor's men-at-arms had accompanied him on his march north. They had never officially sworn to serve House Clegane; they had sworn to serve Gregor.

Wherever he went, they would follow. They composed half of his retinue.

The other half was composed of former retainers of House Clegane. Ser Tarrence had ordered fifty of his servants to join Gregor.

Among them were Sylas Vikary and Erryk Ruttiger. They would be serving as the new steward and castellan of Moat Cailin respectively.

The Citadel would later assign a maester to Moat Cailin, and Gregor would worry about finding a master-at-arms once the moat had been restored.

Apart from the fact that they were longtime friends of his father, that was the foremost reason why Maester Velix and Ser Wallis Peckledon were not going with Gregor.

Ser Tarrence Clegane would be able to replace all his lost servants easily, now that he had seven thousand golden dragons reserved for the benefit of Clegane's Keep.

The last stage of the journey was spent traversing the Neck.

Gregor's entourage was surrounded by the swamps on the east and the west for that entire interval.

They had to be mindful of their step and their fresh water supply; the bogs began on both edges of the Kingsroad.

Due to the lack of dry land, they were forced to camp on the Causeway every night that week.

To their good fortune, they encountered no other parties from either north or south. At the very least, they were spared the burdens of traffic.

At long last, the company made it through the Neck. Once they reached the end of the Causeway, they saw Moat Cailin for the first time.

Gregor felt a number of mixed emotions at that moment. While he was awestruck by the moat's size and structure, he was shocked by its current state of decay. It was not hard to believe that the moat had not been steadily inhabited for over a century.

Still, Moat Cailin was a magnificent fortress to behold. Or rather, it would be, once it was restored.

There was no telling how long that would take, but Gregor was confident it could be done.

His companions did not seem to share his optimism. They took one look at the shabby condition of the moat and frowned.

"That's it?" Polliver murmured, as though he was disgusted.

"A shithole if I ever saw one," Shitmouth eloquently observed.

"No wonder the King gave you all that money, my lord," Erryk Ruttiger contended, "He knew he'd have to payyouto take this fortress."

"Maybe, Erryk," said Gregor, humoring his associate, "Or, one could argue, he gave me the money to improve it. Like or not, gentlemen, this is our new home. Don't be so quick to judge it. It's kept the North safe for thousands of years. Now, under our care, it will be used to protect the whole of the realm."

"Careful not to set your expectations too high, my lord," Sylas Vikary cautioned the massive knight.

Gregor slowly turned to the older man and gazed down at him. He spoke calmly "I am going to say this once, Sylas: I would never strive to complete a goal that I knew to be impossible. If I declare that this fortress will be used for the good of all Westeros, it will be."

Sylas Vikary meekly nodded his head and stared at the ground. He uttered quietly "Indeed. I beseech your pardon."

"You needn't my forgiveness," Gregor asserted, "I have need of your faith, however. In the years to come, I will need you and Erryk and everyone else who came north with me."

"And you shall have us, Ser," Polliver declared, suddenly brightening up.

"All of us," Erryk Ruttiger conceded. All along the column, there were strong mutters of agreement.

Even the most dubious of them were convinced that Gregor knew what he was doing.

The Mountain had to grin at how willing his companions were to trust in him. Soon enough, he would prove that their trust was well-founded.

"Let's press on," Gregor firmly pronounced, "We've got work to do."

'And we've only got twenty years to do it.'

According to legend, there had once been as many as twenty towers in Moat Cailin.

Although the Children's Tower, the Gatehouse Tower, and the Drunkard's Tower were the only three remaining, they were still sufficient to ascertain that the moat was impenetrable from the south.

However, Gregor wanted the defenses to be more than 'sufficient,' and he wanted to guarantee that the moat would be impregnable from the north, as well.

Not that he mistrusted the Northmen or the Free Folk.

The greatest danger to ever befall Westeros would originate from the North, but it would not be posed by either of them.

The first six months of Gregor's occupation of Moat Cailin were mostly devoted to making long-term preparations. His thirteen thousand gold dragons saw a lot of usage in that time frame.

Their first use was an investment. After settling into the moat, Gregor commissioned a team of Essosi architects to sail across the Narrow Sea and rebuild it. Of course, it took time for them to arrive. Gregor spent that time devising a comprehensive outline of the refurbishments he had in mind.

He also took that time to organize his plans to carry out his duties as Master of Order.

His goal to unite Westeros would be a difficult one. Back home, such an objective would have been attained through negotiation and diplomacy.

Here, in this hazardous and unpredictable world, they were inadequate. Even if Gregor somehow managed to get the Lords Paramount to sit down at a table and parley, none of them – not even the Starks – could speak for all of their vassals. In this world, peace could never be reached without bloodshed.

Be that as it may, this was not entirely a disadvantage. There was one thing that every house in the realm desired: safety.

They were all willing to fight to ensure the survival of their families. If the situation called for it, they would go so far as to ally with their enemies to purge a common danger.

Even if the alliance was only temporary, it was still legitimate.

Gregor could use that to bring everyone together.

He would not be able to tell the realm about the Long Night (at least not yet), but he could inspire in its people the notion of fighting for a higher cause.

One that transcended any of their old rivalries. If he could do that, he would have the opportunity to create one of the grandest fighting forces in the known world.

That was his plan. Gregor was going to build an army. An army comprised of warriors from all over Westeros.

Its composition would include Northmen, Riverlords, Valemen, Ironborn, Stormlords, Westerlords, Reachmen, Dornishmen, and Crownlords alike.

In time, perhaps it would also receive some members from Essos, or even the Free Folk.

He would begin the formation of that army very soon. Westeros was currently in a volatile state. Its inhabitants were still recovering from Robert's Rebellion.

At this time, they would be willing to consider anything to avoid further loss. In other words, this would be the optimal time for Gregor to reach out to the Westerosi and start recruiting.

Unfortunately, when he first came to Moat Cailin, he lacked the items needed to communicate with the whole realm.

Thankfully, that problem remedied itself a fortnight and a-half later. That was when the maester assigned to the moat arrived.

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