Chapter 2 Robb

The lords continued arriving, and after twenty-five days, everyone was in Winterfell. Robb received them all and ordered a census of their warriors, peasants, horses, supplies, and equipment, highlighting the Karstarks and Manderlys as the most helpful in terms of preparedness and resources for war.

The Manderlys excelled in supplies, while the Umbers stood out in numbers and battle cries. As expected, Lord Bolton refused to provide resources, supplies, and troops, bringing only half the number of warriors as the rest. If the Robb from his memories had done a simple calculation, he would have known not to trust this Lord even in the slightest, but he was just a child and easily deceived.

Robb made no mention of the census results, although all the lords knew he had ordered one. He maintained the formalities, treating everyone equally, except for the Manderlys, whose representative, Wendel Manderly, was called to meet him before his forces were fully assembled. He had met with him several times since he arrived, and before their final meeting, Wendel had become like his shadow, sending a group of his men along with some of Robb's servants and Master Luwin's assistants back to White Harbor with an important mission and a letter for the Iron Bank and the Lord of the Sealord of Braavos.

Robb also made time for Bran, and every night, without fail, he left his lords to be with his brother and give him small doses of knowledge, never more than he could assimilate. Mostly, they were fantasy stories to distract him and prevent him from going mad under the pressure he was enduring.

Finally, Robb recruited an extra three hundred men to join Winterfell's guard and also enlisted additional men from his own peasant forces, totaling an extra five hundred for Winterfell's strength. This would be effective after their departure. He didn't want Lord Roose Bolton, whom they called "Leech Lord," to find out about his preparations against betrayals, rebellions, and invasions.

Now, Robb was in the great hall, presiding over the table of the great lords. On his right side was Wendel Manderly, a somewhat chubby bald man with walrus mustaches, and on his left side was Rickard Karstark, an elderly man with an unfriendly face and a white, well-groomed beard. Beyond Wendel was the she-bear, Maege Mormont, robust and ugly as a bear. She seemed capable of arm-wrestling with a bear.

Robb, knowing the physical description made of her nephew Jorah Mormont, the exile, wondered if they wouldn't name his island based on the appearance of this people, although it should be noted that this bear's eldest daughter, despite being tall, had an excellent figure, perhaps due to her youth.

The lords didn't overlook the seating arrangement ordered by Robb, nor did they ignore that Lord Bolton was relegated to the last seats, although he appeared indifferent as if he didn't notice or wasn't offended.

Master Luwin was a bundle of nerves because of this arrangement, as the lords were supposed to be seated according to their importance, and Wendel Manderly, a foreign lord to some of the northerners despite having been in the North for centuries, Lady Maege, a minor lord with a few men, and Roose Bolton, one of the strongest in the North, were sitting in places that did not belong to them. In fact, it could be said that Lady Maege was occupying Roose Bolton's seat, and Wendel shouldn't even be at that table. He should have skipped events like this and hide his foreign face from the legitimate lords of the North.

"My lords, it is time to discuss the leadership of this army," declared Robb in a normal tone of voice. Though the northern lords were not accustomed to such a tone (as they usually spoke in a loud manner that could be classified as shouting), they all fell silent and looked at him as if he had sprouted another head. Even Roose Bolton, feigning indifference, blinked once, breaking his facade of calm. Robb nodded to indicate that he understood their surprise.

"Lords, now before you, I am the first to acknowledge not my faults, but my deficiencies in terms of experience. Most of you have participated in more than two wars, one even before I was born. Being fourteen years old, the second of these deficiencies. In the absence of my father, I am your lord, the lord of the North, and it is my duty, honor, and privilege to lead you into battle to secure the well-being of my lord father and the rights of the North that have been violated and trampled upon.

"However, as I have said, I am young and lack experience, so I must consult with you, my loyal lords, about who should lead this army south with the purpose of liberating my lord father from the hands of the regicide queen and her bastard fruit of incest," Robb concluded and fell silent to give room for his lords to speak.

"It is clear that only my lord can lead this army," said Roose Bolton in a neutral tone and a low voice, almost a whisper.

"Hah, Bolton, it's not the time to lick the lord's soles!" declared Jon Umber with a thunderous voice, emphasized by the fact that the dining hall was silent after his statement. "Haven't you heard what the boy said? He's too young and prefers to leave things in the hands of capable men, so…" Rickard Karstark slammed the table with the full weight of his open hand, drawing everyone's attention and interrupting the great Jon.

Grey Wind, who was lying next to Robb, stood up and watched the events unfold with interest. Robb merely looked at Lord Karstark.

"Shut up, Umber!" reprimanded Rickard. "Don't make fools of us all and lose your head for lack of brains. Because like all of us, you heard the young lord's words when he said it's his duty, honor, and privilege to lead the army.

"If you didn't understand, that means any attempt to take command in his place is a breach of his duty, his honor, and his privileges as your lord. Which will cost you your head on the spot," Lord Karstark explained with several grunts in between.

The great Jon furrowed his brow, first glaring at the old man with anger and then at Robb.

"Boy, are you a wolf or a snake?" reproached Jon Umber, causing Maege Mormont to stand up and put her hand on her sword, followed by Wendel Manderly.

"My grandfather was a wolf. His first son, Brandon, was a wolf. His daughter Lyanna was a wolf. And they say my father is also a wolf, though a silent one. I, I plan to be a direwolf, and they say these are cunning and intelligent creatures," Robb said indifferently.

The great Jon furrowed his brow even more, and as he thought, Robb could almost hear his brain begging for mercy from the effort, evident in the pained expression he made on several occasions and the time it took him to respond, which was nearly a minute. But when he finally did, he slapped the table with his right hand, making it bounce and splattering food on a few inattentive lords. Then, his laughter spread throughout the dining hall.

"Damn, I get it now. Boy, you might be right. Wolves don't do well going south. Maybe we do need a direwolf," he concluded amidst laughter and sat back down to chug a jug of beer in one gulp.

Master Luwin hurriedly wiped the sweat off his forehead as Lady Maege and Wendel sat back down, shaking their heads in frustration at the great Jon's deficient intelligence.

"My lords, let us enjoy this feast while we can," said Robb to signal the return to the celebration, and the commotion erupted again at the surrounding tables.

"My lord, earlier you mentioned that the queen murdered the king and that the queen's son was the product of incest. Can you tell us, my lord, how you came to know this?" Lady Maege Mormont asked, and the lords fell silent instantly, looking at him.

Robb calmly nodded, setting aside the chicken he had just devoured. It was a relief to dine with these brutes, where table manners didn't matter. Nonetheless, Robb finished chewing before speaking.

"I have been in communication with my lord father since he left Winterfell. He was interested in the reasons behind Lord Arryn's death, whose sudden demise and subsequent descriptions and details of it made him suspect murder.

"While investigating, my lord father learned of Lord Arryn's last words, which were, 'the seed is strong.' However, without context, my lord father did not understand their meaning. Nonetheless, he continued his investigation and became interested in his mentor's last movements in the capital, which led him to several children and a book. The children, he found, due to their appearance and the accounts of their caretakers, were the king's bastards, and the book was one of the great houses, which spoke of marriages between these houses and minor houses of their descendants.

"The former Hand, my lord father's mentor, was interested in the king Robert Baratheon's offspring, particularly the appearance of his bastards, who, as the book mentioned, had black hair and blue eyes. The king had over fifteen registered bastards and one legitimate son, and all of them had black hair and blue eyes. However, not a single one of his legitimate children had black hair, and their eyes were green.

"Seen in this light, there were reasons for suspicion. Unfortunately, Lord Arryn died before he could learn more or share his suspicions with the king. However, my lord father, thanks to the old gods, had better luck than him and also more clues.

"As my lords may know, my brother Bran suffered an unfortunate accident while climbing a tower. There, they found golden hairs and recent footprints, suggesting the queen's long golden hair was present. Then, during his convalescence, my brother suffered another accident when a man wielding a Valyrian steel dagger tried to cut his throat while he was unconscious.

The lords cursed and pounded the table, cursing the Lannisters. Robb paused until they settled down, and when they did, he continued speaking.

"As you know, my lord father is not a man to act on impulse. He only acts on the basis of reason and honor, so my lady mother, aware that we had no real evidence, journeyed to King's Landing to report the recent events. Due to this new evidence, along with what he already knew, my lord father concluded that the suspicions of the former Hand were true and that it was likely his son was pushed from the tower for witnessing something he shouldn't have.

"However, once again, they had no conclusive proof, as Bran suffered a blow to the head and barely remembers anything from that day.

"As for the dagger, a friend of my lady mother informed her that it belonged to Tyrion Lannister. I suppose she, blinded by her feelings, committed the imprudence of abducting the dwarf to interrogate him about it, without consulting my lord father for fear he would escape her grasp.

Robb paused and looked at Roose Bolton.

"My lord, some have told me that you excel in cunning and intelligence. What do you make of this particular little matter?" he asked, looking into the clear and undisturbed eyes of Lord Bolton.

"My lord, I would say that your mother's friendships are rather unreliable. The Lannisters are known for their intelligence and cruelty, but this particular friendship of your mother's makes them look like fools and incapable," Roose Bolton said in a low voice, forcing everyone to sharpen their ears. Robb nodded with regret.

"Unfortunately, my lord father did not think the same. He believed in the honor of that man and chose to think that his information could be a mistake or that the Lannisters made an error. That's why he decided to send my lady mother back while he investigated further. Then my lady mother encountered Tyrion Lannister, and we all know what happened next," Robb said sorrowfully.

While the lords debated Lord Stark's decision, Roose seemed frustrated and decided to take Robb's bait, or perhaps he was provoking him to lose his patience. Whatever the case, he spoke up.

"Unfortunately?" Lord Bolton asked twice because the lords were rowdy the first time and nothing was heard. Robb nodded with indifference.

"As I said before, my lord father chose to trust that man because of his friendship with my lady mother. In his last letter to me, he recounted that when he decided to follow his instincts and tell the king to investigate the matter on his own, he felt compassion for the queen's children. King Robert was not known for his mercy towards children, and he believed they would be killed if his suspicions were confirmed. That's why my lord father first went to the queen and told her what he knew.

"To his dismay, she admitted that her children were bastards, and not only that, but they were the bastards of her twin brother, and she even seemed proud of it, refusing to accept any mercy or exile. My lord father could do nothing to convince her to flee before speaking with the king, who was hunting at the time. Right after the queen's confession, the king suffered an unfortunate accident due to an overly strong wine, served by his cupbearer Lannister, and he suffered a lethal wound.

"My lord father, unable to confess everything at his friend and brother's deathbed so as not to let him die knowing the truth about what he believed were his children, chose to remain silent and handle everything after the king's death. The king named my father as the guardian of the realm until his supposed heir reached adulthood, making his will in the presence of some witnesses, including Ser Barristan Selmy, who was also the king's guard at the time of his accident and informed my father about the wine and the Lannister cupbearer, who turned out to be Lancel Lannister, son of Kevan Lannister, Tywin Lannister's brother. According to some rumors hinted by my lady mother's supposed friend, this Lancel Lannister had been seen in suspicious and overly close attitudes with Queen Cersei Lannister, to the point of indiscretion.

"After the king's death and due to the events triggered by the kidnapping of Tyrion Lannister by my lady mother, my lord father had few men he could trust, while the queen had two hundred Lannister guards at her disposal, so she could resist the late king's final wishes and refuse to fulfill them or even threaten my lord father due to what he knew, as he suspected happened to the former Hand. That's why my lord father was in serious trouble until my lady mother's friendship came through and offered him the support of the Gold Cloaks, three thousand men whom he claimed would support whoever paid them more.

"Needless to say, my lord father was indignant, but after spending several months in the South, he had come to understand that honor was a strange word there. So, he accepted the humiliation and relied on my lady mother's friendship to recruit men to confront Queen Cersei and arrest her since she refused to leave the throne willingly or accept exile with her bastards.

"And this is all the information I received from my lord father in his last letter. But as his entire plan hinged on this supposed friendship, I can only think that Lord Bolton is right, and my father was betrayed and captured by that supposed friendship and the queen, who now accuses him of treason and holds him prisoner," Robb concluded.

He hadn't finished speaking when the Great Jon stood up and pounded the table with his closed fist, splintering it and drawing blood.

"Who is it? My lord, I demand to know the name of this wretched traitor!" roared the Great Jon at the top of his lungs.

No one reprimanded him, and even Maege stood up to demand the name of the traitor. Robb sighed, and everyone fell silent and stopped clamoring when they realized he was about to speak.

"He was an old ward of Lord Hoster Tully, my lord grandfather, and was raised alongside my lady mother and her sister. He had a nickname. They called him 'Littlefinger' because he was from the Vale, from a place called the Fingers. And because he was a small boy, they nicknamed him Littlefinger, but his name is Petyr Baelish, the current Master of Coin. As we haven't received any news that he was arrested along with my lord father, I'm afraid he was the one who sold him to the queen. I can't fathom the reasons for his actions since I don't have much information about him.

"My lord father didn't investigate him, and that has now led to his capture," Robb said sorrowfully and looked at Roose Bolton.

The other lords seemed to remember him too and also looked at him. Roose remained calm, but a flicker of anger passed through his eyes, or at least that's what Robb thought he saw. Whatever it was, the lord known for being astute and intelligent now had the entire North's attention, demanding information about Petyr Baelish.

"I'm not the only one who knows his reasons," he said, looking at Lord Karstark. "All of you, the oldest among you, should know as well. The boy who challenged Brandon Stark for Catelyn Tully's hand was also named Petyr Baelish and was also a ward of Lord Hoster Tully in the Vale," Roose Bolton whispered so softly that some lords leaned in to hear.

"My lord father was at the Eyrie at the time and couldn't have known about it. And it seems that my lady mother believed that her friendship was above her grudge… or perhaps she thought there was no reason for such a grudge," Robb corrected sorrowfully.

"The women…" the Great Jon choked on his words when Lady Maege gave him a cold stare.

"It's evident that Petyr Baelish bears a great enmity towards the Starks, and there's no doubt he has betrayed our lord. We must demand his head," declared Rickard Karstark. Robb shook his head.

"My lords, we are not in a position to demand anything, as there is no honor or duty in the South. My lord father is a prisoner with my sisters, and with no news from the rest of our people, I fear they have already been silenced.

"So, I repeat, we are not in a position to demand anything, as they only understand strength there. Fortunately…" Robb said, rising and looking at the cracked table where the Great Jon crushed his hand, "My lords, strength is something we have in abundance!" Robb roared, and everyone laughed and cheered in support, shouting "Stark!" and "Long live the North!"

…

"Brother, the lords call you the Winter Wolf," Bran said with excitement as Robb helped him to lie down next to Maester Luwin. Robb grimaced upon hearing it, and Maester Luwin smiled, knowing that the nickname was not to his liking and that his plans to earn a different one had failed.

"Who the hell called me that?" Robb asked indignantly. Clearly, he preferred to be called the Direwolf. Even the Cunning Wolf would be acceptable, but the Winter Wolf was too common for his taste.

"It was the Great Jon. He said that being by your side feels like breathing ice and cruelty. It's like being in a winter storm," Bran said apprehensively, seeing that his nickname hadn't pleased him.

Robb rolled his eyes. He should have placed the brainless lord next to the leech lord, but he remembered a saying from his old world that went, "if you put a thousand fools next to a villain, you'll end up with a thousand and one villains." He had to ensure the fool was kept away from the villain's influence, even if it meant having them by his side. This decision was already giving him a headache.

Robb hurriedly caressed Bran's head, who had recovered from his state of malnutrition in the past month and now looked like a little red-haired plush toy.

"Don't worry, it's not your fault, and with the strength that man exudes, I believe I'm already sentenced to that nickname. There's nothing we can do. Besides, even though it's a vulgar nickname made with the wit of a jellyfish, it's intimidating, at least for those who know the winter. It may not be something of legends, but things in the world tend to scare more than legends," Robb said to comfort the young boy and himself. "Now sleep, I have to go check on Rickon. The nurse took him away a while ago, and I didn't say goodnight to him," he added.

"He's a baby, he falls asleep at sunset," Bran boasted about himself.

Robb ruffled his head again. The only reason this brat hadn't fallen asleep was because the lords' shouting had kept him on edge.

…

"Bran, Winterfell is now in your hands. Remember everything I've told you," Robb said, and Bran nodded nonchalantly on his horse as Rickon cried at the castle gates in the nurse's arms, and Grey Wind howled locked behind the walls.

"Don't worry, I'll follow your advice," Bran said confidently.

The little brat wasn't really saying goodbye to him, so he wasn't worried about seeing him go and pretended to be brave. Robb rolled his eyes in his mind and gave him a farewell pat. Maester Luwin looked at Bran incredulously for his inexplicable composure and sudden acquired courage.

"Maester Luwin, I'll soon send a suitable captain for the guard, and do not forget my orders to improve security. I will inform the person I'm sending," Robb said.

Robb didn't intend to be cryptic, but if he told Maester Luwin that he was sending Rodrik, who would meet with Catelyn Stark, the maester would either think he had become a seer or ask questions Robb preferred not to answer. Maester Luwin nodded, thinking that Robb had more secret plans due to his frequent meetings with Bran and the boy's paleness whenever anyone asked about what he was studying with his elder brother. He threatened to whip anyone who tried to extract information about Robb's plans. Bran wasn't too discreet, but at least he hadn't revealed anything and managed to scare off the more gossipy servants.

…

One hour later, Robb rode at the head of an army of twenty thousand men, alongside Roose Bolton, whom he liked to think he had surprised by calling him to ride by his side.

"My lord, your open distrust towards me has baffled me, but now, being the first lord to be called to ride at your side, it makes me think that my lord is somewhat audacious," Roose Bolton said after an hour of silence and ignoring each other. He didn't speak because Robb had outdone him in staying quiet, but because protocol demanded that he speak to his lord. What it didn't demand was honesty, so that was an olive branch extended by Bolton.

"The distrust you have earned with your clumsy attempt to test my intelligence! You're lucky that I am young and don't have the respect of these men, or your little act would have cost you your head instead of your seat in the dining hall," reprimanded Robb with a cold tone.

"My lord, I apologize for my behavior. I have already sent an urgent message, and three hundred well-armed men along with the appropriate supplies will be arriving with us at Moat Cailin," Lord Bolton offered.

"Lord Bolton, I know the history of our houses. I even know some things about you, like the birth of your bastard and the death of your heir. I won't say that we are equals, but allow me to be arrogant and say that I understand.

"Your rival lord has fallen prisoner, and there are only children in command. It's an opportunity, and at least you should test the waters, because a man without ambition is a dead man. That attitude is not something I disapprove of, and it's not something that this world we've created disapproves of, so I won't be hypocritical and call you a traitor or other similar insults.

"However, despite this world accepting strength and power as an excuse to climb in status, as our ancestors have already demonstrated, you must also remember that the price of failure in these attempts to rise in status is your head. Not only your head but also the heads of your heirs, allies, and followers will remain on their shoulders if you dare to pull another little trick like this," Robb warned in a calm and casual tone. Roose made a formal bow from his horse.

"My lord, I thank you for your advice and will keep it in mind from now on," Roose said vaguely, leaving Robb unsure if he was accepting defeat or postponing his plans for a better time.

Robb nodded equally vaguely, knowing that any future attempt at betrayal would result in Bolton losing his head.

"My lord, it seems that you are aware of many more things than you let on. Earlier, it seemed to me that you already knew the reason why Petyr Baelish betrayed your father and that's why you told us about his origins," Lord Bolton said, his words not to be interpreted as an affirmation or a question.

"I didn't know, but given the man's betrayal and his obvious resentment towards my family, I assumed that my lady mother omitted some important parts in her relationship with him," Robb said calmly.

Roose wasn't talking to a fourteen-year-old boy who would startle when caught in his schemes but to a man who had lived a full life and faced compromising situations before. Roose found such situations somewhat intriguing, and he nodded following Robb's earlier example.

The conversation between Robb and Roose Bolton lasted half a day and was pleasant. Robb even came to sympathize with the Lord of the Dreadfort for his cunning, cruelty, and intelligence, as well as his almost inhuman self-control, great patience, and consistency in behavior and way of life.

After a quick lunch, Robb rode with Lord Karstark, who proudly spoke of his sons. Robb pleased Karstark by appointing his sons as his bodyguards, although he knew that this had been one of the reasons for the downfall of the old Robb. He was not the old Robb, and he would be a fool to allow such a thing to happen again.

At the end of the day, Robb commissioned a crossbow from the accompanying blacksmiths, wondering how good the Kingslayer would be with a bolt embedded in the arm of the sword. He knew this plan had a high likelihood of failure, but he had always wanted a crossbow, and this would be his first line of defense. Afterward, he could try models that prioritized efficiency over personal pleasure.

…

At night, Robb invited the lords to his table. This time, Roose Bolton sat on his left, and Rickard Karstark on his right. Wendel Manderly sat next to Bolton, and Jon Umber next to Rickard Karstark, followed by Lady Maege Mormont.

Robb noticed that the giant felt intimidated by the She-Bear and decided to seat her by his side to avoid any trouble. Lord Bolton noticed the seating arrangement and gave Robb a small knowing smile.

The next morning, Robb had to endure the giant's screams as he rode at his side, shamelessly complaining about having to ride after "that pretentious old shit Karstark" and the "pale lord." This caused a terrible headache for Robb, who wasn't accustomed to this kind of commotion, as people in his old world didn't usually shout. In reality, he just didn't associate with noisy people because they gave him headaches, like at this moment.

"You deserve it, my lord," added Maege Mormont at the end, noticing Robb's agitated state.

"Are you going to scold me for wanting to eat in peace?" asked Robb with justifiable indignation.

"When that peace comes at the expense of mine, I must admit it bothers me a little, my lord," she added as if she had forgotten.

"Lady Mormont, my head is spinning, just name your price for your lord's peace," Robb said.

"My lord, I wouldn't dare ask you for anything. Your well-being is my priority, and the problems of my territory must be resolved by me, as well as the matter of my eldest daughter's marriage," said Lady Maege.

Robb made a wince in his mind. He had read that these women weren't interested in marriage, and this old she-bear didn't even mention a husband, which meant that all her daughters were bastards, yet nobody commented on it. Why the mention of a husband now? Robb discreetly glanced at the oldest of the she-bear's daughters, who, despite her hair being white, didn't seem to be over thirty years old. At most, the oldest one seemed to be twenty-eight. She was also beautiful, nothing like her rough mother; she must have taken after her unmentioned father, perhaps some unfortunate bard whom this she-bear kidnapped, as bards tended to be handsome men…

"Do you find her attractive, my lord?" asked Lady Maege with a mischievous smile.

"Damn, this she-bear is indeed shameless," thought Robb, but immediately a feeling of sadness overwhelmed him, and from the way the she-bear adjusted herself on her horse, she noticed. Robb sighed and shook his head.

"You haven't said anything inappropriate, my lady. I've just remembered that I am now a Lord, and that comes at a price," said Robb, thinking of the Freys. That was another future he couldn't avoid, and for him, an unpleasant matter he didn't want to remember.

"Does my lord fear having to trade his hand for a political alliance?" asked the old she-bear assertively, but based on her previous reaction and words, there wasn't much to imagine.

"I'm afraid it's more than just a hunch, my lady," said Robb with a wry smile.

"A woman they support, beautiful, perhaps?" Lady Maege asked, trying to lift his spirits, reminding him that there were worse fates than death, and to his dismay, Robb smiled.

"I suppose I'm lucky then," said Robb with a half-smile.

In the books, the Freys were often described as having the face of a weasel, but there were several beauties among them, and the she-bear was right; there were worse fates than being forced into marriage, like being forced into marriage with an ugly wart. In this world, there were plenty of examples of that, like the case of Lisa Tully, married to an elderly man who could have been her grandfather. In the books, she made a gruesome description of what it was like to kiss his toothless mouth and see his raisin-like face while they had sex…

"Wait a moment, there are worse things than not having beauty," Robb thought. Of course, he didn't deny that beauty attracted him in almost a hundred percent of cases, and that was just to leave room for error. But there were also cases where a woman attracted him, and as soon as she opened her mouth, she repulsed him, not to mention her manners and personality…

Robb recalled something that was fundamental to him and looked toward where Great Jon was riding, with growing horror.

"Old gods, if it was you who brought me here, I don't care if she's careless, even if she eats like a pig and burps at the table, please, old gods, let her have a brain and common sense!" Robb thought desperately as he continued riding with the others.

Beauty no longer seemed such an attractive trait to him, after all, his own appearance was acceptable, and the unlucky ones who would be ugly would be his children if he married someone unattractive. But the one who would suffer sleepless nights and constant headaches if he married someone as scandalous and brainless as Jon Umber would be him.

He might die of a stroke before he turned thirty, and that was being optimistic. If he made it to twenty without suffering several heart attacks due to the constant rise in his blood pressure, that would be a great achievement…

"My lord, you have nothing to worry about. The Umbers are unique beings, even in the North, I don't think you'll find a twin in the South," consoled Lady Mormont, understanding his fears about it.

"Lady Mormont, I hope for my own sake that's true because I think if it's not, you'll see me, your Winter Wolf, running away to save my sanity," said Robb seriously.

Lady Maege laughed heartily. By the end of the day, Robb had added another guard, Lady Mormont's eldest daughter, Dacey Mormont.

The march south continued swiftly and without pause. Robb continued to get to know his lords better, suffering headaches every time he had to ride with the giant with a thunderous voice, easy laughter, and an atrophied brain, a lover of war, loyal to the death, strong as a bulldozer, and a big mouth like no other.

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