Chapter 18

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Theon had taken up residence in the Gatekeeper's Tower, the former home of the castle's steward, who had travelled back to Winterfell on Robb's orders. The Gatekeeper's Tower looked better than the others, the Children's Tower and the Drunken Tower. It was cosier inside, with all the holes patched and the floor covered with treated wood. The Gatekeeper's Tower always smelled nice - pine and resin. Apparently the floors in the tower had been paved recently....

He immediately got down to business - he sent carpenters with a dozen lackeys to cut wood to pave the floors of the other towers. The wooden floors of the other two towers had rotted away and looked bad.

The stonemasons were only looking around the castle and the surrounding area. They were looking for material to patch up the holes in the towers and walls, but so far they were just throwing up their hands. They might have to use unimportant stone, or pull it from the ruins near Cailin's Moat.

Greyjoy supposed that those ruins had once been part of the Moat... But he could hardly know that now.

He had a couple of patrols in the area around him. There weren't any gangs of bandits in the area, but caution was not a bad thing.

A couple of days after settling in Ditch, news came from the South. Merchants passing by the fortress said that a war was coming between the West and the Riverlands. They say one of the Old Lion's sons has been captured by a Tully. They say mercenaries are already plundering the western borders of the Trident....

A couple of letters came from Robb, asking how the fortress settlement went and that he was gathering banners. Word came from King's Landing, the Lannisters had attacked and wounded Eddard Stark. War was inevitable.

Sometimes he looked towards the Isthmus - could he try to cross it and escape? A wooded massif, a land teeming with marshes and lakes, teeming with vast numbers of poisonous snakes and lion-eaters. Perhaps the lion-eaters are an analogue to the alligators of his home world.

I wonder how the Starks managed to conquer these lands? Rickard the Laughing Wolf clearly took the Marsh Kingdom by stealth, not force.

There is only one way across the Isthmus, the King's Tract. A thin strip of land called a road. He would be immediately captured by the bogmen.

Standing on the wall and resting his hands on the cracked stone crenellations, Theon looked towards the North. A vast expanse stretched out before his eyes - somewhere in the distance he could see the tops of many trees.

'A vast, still somewhat wild land. The Old Gods rule here, and the First Men live here. I wonder how much potential is stored in these lands? How many undiscovered mines of various metals are stored in the depths of the Northern Kingdom's mountains? Surely many... '

His pet, Cicero, landed next to him. Lately, he had been constantly flying in the sky of the fortress, exploring new territory.

The parrot landed on a prong and yelled:

-J-eat! Eat!

Chuckling, Greyjoy held out his hand and said:

-Come on, swallow. I'll give you some grain.

Cicero immediately flapped his wings, making a short flight and hooked his long claws into Theon's hand. Even though Greyjoy wore a leather dupe with thick sleeves, he still felt a little pain.

'And his claws have really grown.'

'''''''''''''''''''''''''"'

He'd spent a whole month in Kailin's Moat - the fortress had been patched up a bit. The biggest holes that threatened the fortress's defences had been closed, taking material from the ruins not far away. They changed the floors, got rid of the damp. The carpenters even changed the furniture - old junk was thrown on the pyre, beds, chairs, chests and more were made.

Ditch Cailin was no longer so defenseless against attacks from the north. The south side was impregnable.

Greyjoy was constantly sending letters to Stark - reports, results, and simply communicating with Stark in this way. Every week, wagons with provisions and forage came to Cailin's Moat. And every week there were more and more of them....

For over a month now, Theon had been in Moat Cailin, running errands for Robb. Most of the necessary work has been done, and the masons are now patching the towers themselves, or rather the upper part of them. Soon the Children's Tower and the Drunken Tower will be no different from their brother, the Gatekeeper's Tower.

In Westeros, the Maesters are counting down the end of the two hundred and ninety-eighth year and the beginning of the two hundred and ninety-ninth. Summer has lasted too long and many say that winter will last as long as summer... sometimes the strangeness of the local climate has Theon in a state of prostration. A winter of five to six years? Madness, but here was reality.

Soon the army the young Stark had assembled would march from Winterfell to the Moat of Cailin. If it hasn't already.

And a week later, that army did indeed appear. A dense column of warriors appeared in the distance, marching down the Kingsroad. Many emblems fluttered above the Northmen's host - a direwolf running across a white field, a giant tearing chains, a white sun on a black background, a refreshed man, and many other houses of the North that had come with Robb.

The camp was set up near the fortress, and Robb and the Northern lords settled in the fortress. He settled in the Gatehouse with Theon. The other lords were in the Drunken and the Children's Hall, and some stayed in the camp, wishing to be with their host.

When Theon saw Robb, he was surprised. Stark had a couple of small scars on his face and was as grim as the clouds.

-Brandon is dead. - Robb said, lost, when he and Greyjoy were alone in the Gate Tower. - The Wildlings killed him.

- Killed? But how did the Wildlings get into Winterfell?

- They didn't sneak into Winterfell. - Robb sat down tiredly on one of the chairs upholstered in wolf fur. - Brandon and I went out for a walk with a detachment of Guardsmen. Brandon stepped forward and bumped into them.....

Theon sighed. He felt sorry for little Brandon, whom fate clearly had a soft spot for. Three attempts at murder - and a third successful.

But he felt no strong emotion....

-What of the wildlings, Robb? Did you kill them? - Theon tried to soften his voice, but it was just an indifferent chill.

But Stark ignored it, preoccupied with his memories. He seemed to have aged decades.

- Summer had torn them apart... And the direwolf himself had died a few days later. He just lay down and fell asleep. Never woke up again.

'The boy may have been a warg. So all of Lord Eddard's children are wargs now?'

-You know. - Robb suddenly began to speak, gripping the armrests of his chair. - And there were deserters from the Night's Watch with the wildlings.... The Black Brothers have a long history of poorly guarding our borders! Why do we need these... 'ravens'?

- The Night's Watch isn't what it used to be, Robb. There's only a thousand men on duty, when in the old days there were tens of thousands.

-Yes... it's not what it used to be. - Stark exhaled, calming down. - And it is time for the Watch to fade into oblivion....

Greyjoy was more surprised than ever.

-Do you really want to disband the Night's Watch?

- I do. - was Theon's short answer. - But not until I've driven the lions from the Riverlands.

Theon had already heard that the Lannister army had turned from threats to action - an army of lions must have already come out of the Golden Tooth to launch a full-scale invasion of the Riverlands.

- We will march when the other lords of the North join us. The Dustins and Riswells should be arriving soon, followed by the Manderley and Flint forces. Then war.

-War, Robb. And it won't be easy.

-I know, Theon. I know.