Chapter Thirty Seven: The Spread

"We have arrived, my ladies," Erryk or Arryk – she never could tell which – announced from the other side of the door.

"Very well, Right," Olenna Tyrell murmured. And not a moment too soon. It was getting stuffy in here.

She turned to the other occupants of the carriage. They were her beautiful granddaughter Margaery and Margaery's two trusted handmaidens. They were beautiful, as well. Not as beautiful as Margaery, of course. But they can still turn many a lad's head. They were all young maids, and she had lived longer than the three of them combined. Gods willing, they will all live to an even greater age.

Olenna looked to the girl across from her and stated "Would you care to lead, Lady Mira? It would be most fitting if one native to this land stepped out first."

Mira Forrester gave a sweet smile and declared "I would be honored, my lady."

Olenna could not help but smile back. Mira was always so polite. Of her granddaughter's handmaidens, Olenna preferred her over Sera Durwell. Although Sera's family were distant relatives of the Tyrells, she was also quite reserved and laconic. That was likely a direct result of her "secret."

Nevertheless, Sera was just as competent and capable as the girl from the North. If only she was as resilient, as well.

Ever since they entered the Neck, Sera had been coughing nonstop. She seemed to have taken ill. Before they came up the Causeway, Sera had selflessly offered to travel separately from the others so as not to bother them, but Margaery insisted that she ride with them.

Mira Forrester rose from her seat just as Right opened the door. He offered his hand, and she took it, allowing him to help her out of the carriage.

Left appeared a moment later, and he and his brother aided the Queen of Thorns to rise and exit that birdcage on wheels, as she was fond of calling it.

As soon as she was on the ground, Olenna shuddered a bit. The sudden change in temperature was so noticeable it was startling. It did not feel so cold when we first entered the Neck.

"Shall I fetch your shawl, my lady?" Left offered.

Fool, I'd need more than a shawl. Olenna did not give voice to that thought; she merely nodded her head.

As Left went to find her shawl, Right assisted Margaery and Sera down from the carriage. When the two of them were on the same level as Olenna and Mira, Sera stumbled. Mira quickly moved to catch her friend before she could trip.

"Thank you," Sera weakly told her friend, before coughing into her arm.

"Anytime," the lady of Ironrath assured her.

Like Olenna, Sera and Margaery seemed to have detected the shift in temperature. They both shivered the instant they touched the ground. Mira, however, did not seem bothered in the least. That was remarkable, considering how she was garmented differently, as well. Olenna wore a constricting gown that only left her face and hands exposed, and Sera and Margaery wore warm woolen cloaks of sheepskin over their flowing dresses. Mira had forgone such apparel in favor of her usual bare-sleeved gown. Despite this, she did not appear affected by the cold, or to have even noticed it.

When Sera stopped coughing, she held herself for warmth and mumbled "It's freezing."

"You'll get used to this, I assure you," Mira proclaimed confidently, "All of you will."

"Do not mistake my meaning, my dear," Olenna Tyrell pronounced, "But I do not expect to be here long enough that I would even need to accustom myself to the climate."

"I can hardly blame you for thinking so, my lady," Mira Forrester drily contended, "The North is not for everyone. Only the hardy and the determined can take to it."

"It happens that I am both," Margaery claimed with a smirk, "It will take more than a slight chill to dissuade me from my duty."

"I never doubted that, my lady," Mira Forrester said sincerely. Nor did I. A true flower does not yield to frostbite so easily.

Left returned a minute later. He brought back more than his mistress's shawl. He also brought along the party's travelling companions.

Not long after the company of Reachmen entered the Riverlands, they had encountered another company. This one was from the Westerlands, specifically Casterly Rock. At the head of it were Lord Tyrion Lannister and Lady Ellyn Lannister.

At Olenna's insistence, the three of them had supped together that night. At the table, Lord Tyrion and his wife had revealed they were on their way to visit her brother in the North. Lady Olenna's party was also going North, but for different reasons. Since they were headed in the same direction, Olenna had proposed that they travel together. Some new faces can always add some excitement to a long and dull journey.

The following morning, they had merged their parties. The lions had been among the roses since just before they reached the Trident. On the way, Olenna Tyrell discovered that Tyrion and Ellyn Lannister made a rather pleasant couple of travelling companions. As well as a rather pleasant couple in general.

"A little nippy today," the dwarf commented bluntly, reining his courser up beside the Tyrell women. The mare was a special saddle designed to accommodate her master's measurements.

Lady Olenna and her granddaughter had ridden in a carriage all the way from Highgarden. Most highborn ladies generally preferred that method of travel. That was just one more area in which Ellyn Lannister was an exception. She currently rode beside her husband atop a large brown destrier.

If her destination was too far to walk, she always travelled by horse. She claimed to feel much more comfortable in the open on her own mount than seated in a small, cramped compartment. She also japed that she always hit her head on the doorframe of a carriage, anyway. I could believe that. She is taller than Left and Right, and neither of them could ever sit up straight in a carriage.

"Really?" Lady Ellyn stated jokingly, gazing at their surroundings, "I hadn't noticed, my love."

"Neither did I," Mira Forrester proclaimed, though she was only partly jesting. Her skin was the only one free of goose prickles at this time.

Although they had technically been in the North for several days, Mira had informed everyone beforehand that the Neck was not like the rest of her homeland. It was a generally temperate landscape. Sure enough, the climate as they came up the Causeway had actually been favorable to an extent. But after clearing the marshes, warmer clothing became obligatory for those of them who were born outside the North. Which was everyone save for Margaery's favorite handmaiden. It would seem Lady Mira is more naked than the rest of us.

Presently, Lady Olenna and the others were clustered together in the courtyard of Moat Cailin. The moat's stableboys were assisting the riders with their mounts. A pair of them came up to Lord Tyrion and Lady Ellyn. One offered his hand to Lady Ellyn, but she gently refused it and climbed down from her mount by herself.

When she was on her feet, Ellyn Lannister casually made her way over to her husband's courser. Lord Tyrion was in the midst of climbing off his own mount when his wife crept up behind him, took ahold of him by the arms, and lifted him out of his saddle.

For a moment, Tyrion appeared somewhat startled by this abrupt action. Then he eased down and laughed in amusement. Ellyn chuckled with him as she playfully swung him through the air, embraced him firmly, and set him down on the ground delicately.

Olenna observed this interaction between the two Westerlanders. She was not quite certain what to make of it. On the one hand, they were behaving a little like children. She and Luthor had never been so devious. On the other hand… they were being quite affectionate to each other. She and Luthor had never been so tender in public. Then again, Luthor had been too much of an oaf to properly display such feelings in private, either. At least he was not too much of an oaf to sire children. Then again, he gave me an oaf son and two oaf daughters.

Truthfully, Olenna Tyrell loved her husband and children greatly, but she had always been critical of them. She was critical of everyone, but never to the degree of harshness and cruelty.

While the pair of stableboys led away Lord Tyrion's courser and Lady Ellyn's destrier, a young woman came to the two spouses. Olenna recognized her as one of Ellyn Lannister's handmaidens. She had not bothered to learn her name, though.

Be that as it may, Olenna did know the name of the small boy the handmaiden was currently holding in her arms. He was Duncan Lannister, the only child of Lord Tyrion and Lady Ellyn. And perhaps the future Lord of Casterly Rock. Provided the Kingslayer still only has girls.

When she reached her mistress, the handmaiden carefully transferred young Duncan from her arms to his mother's. Lady Ellyn smiled down at her son, who giggled and grinned back.

"He didn't give you any trouble, I assume?" Lord Tyrion asked the handmaiden rhetorically.

"No trouble at all, milord," the handmaiden affirmed giddily, "He slept most of the way."

"Thank you, Greta," Ellyn told her handmaiden appreciatively, "You may go now."

The handmaiden – Greta, apparently – bowed respectfully and went to see to her other duties.

Tyrion Lannister gazed up at his son in his wife's arms and inquired "Do you think he's warm enough?"

"He should be," Ellyn Lannister contended, looking down at Duncan, "I had Greta dress him in two layers of thick clothing this morning. But if you are concerned that that might not be enough, I'll hold him close to my chest."

Tyrion smirked and nodded his head in approval, saying cockily "That always keeps me warm. At night at least."

Ellyn's cheeks flushed red for a moment, but immediately after, she scoffed at her husband's remark. Mira Forrester and Margaery snickered a bit, too.

The Queen of Thorns herself grinned, but not because she was amused by that innuendo. She grinned because she was strangely pleased by how Lord Tyrion and Lady Ellyn treated each other. They were so tranquil, so spirited, and so loving.

Her grandfather was the kennelmaster of his. Moreover, she is tall enough to match one and one-half of him in height. Yet they have found happiness with one another.

Lady Olenna took that as a sign. If a lion of Casterly Rock could be happily wed to a hound of Clegane's Keep, just about any match in Westeros could produce the same fine results. That included the joining of a wolf and a rose. As it happened, that was precisely why Olenna and Margaery were there in the first place.

Olenna Tyrell was brought out of her momentary meditation when Margaery placed a soft hand on her shoulder. She swiftly turned to face her granddaughter, who was glancing in another direction and told her excitedly "Grandmother, they're here!"

Lady Olenna looked in the same direction as Margaery, and she saw straightaway who "they" were. A small company of people had just entered the vicinity. Among that company were two young men with the same type of hair as Margaery. My, how they've grown.

The Queen of Thorns smiled at her grandsons as they and their associates came nearer. Soon enough, the distance between the two groups was reduced to nothing.

Loras went directly to Margaery. He hugged their sister warmly and placed a kiss on her cheek. Willas, however, greeted their grandmother first. He dipped his head to her, she dipped hers in response, and then he brought her into a kind embrace.

"It would appear the Reach's bouquet of roses is whole again," Mira Forrester jokingly commented. Olenna allowed herself a scoff. That girl has more wit than I gave her credit for.

"Not quite whole, my lady," Loras countered, not unkindly, "Our brother Garlan is in Dorne right now."

That statement incited Olenna to reflect on the current whereabouts of her son's children. One of them was located in a land composed of miles upon miles of sand. The other three were in a land where it snowed year-round. Neither offers hospitable conditions for a flower to grow or flourish.

But Growing Strong were not House Tyrell's words without reason. My grandchildren are not pansies. They are roses, and our roses can take root and thrive anywhere.

"With him down there and three of us up here, Father and Mother must feel rather lonesome," Willas conjectured.

"Actually, they're more worried than lonesome," Margaery informed her brothers, "Father is, at any rate. He was more than a little reluctant for us to make this journey."

"Because of what happened north of the Wall last month?" Loras presumed.

"Just so," Margaery confirmed, "The raven carrying the news of that fiasco reached Highgarden mere days before we were scheduled to set off. Once he read the missive, Father tried to persuade us to consider cancelling our departure. Or postponing it, at the very least."

"Naturally, we were not about to halt our plans simply because your lord father misplaced his nerves," Olenna Tyrell proclaimed adamantly, "Once I convinced him to listen to reason, he agreed to let us go on our way."

"Under the condition that we take with us twice as many guards and servants as we initially intended," Margaery added in.

Willas seemed to be exasperated by that remark, and Loras appeared entertained by it.

"Surely Father does not honestly believe a few more soldiers would make any difference if the Night's King chose to send his forces south," the Knight of Flowers pronounced sardonically.

"No more difference than postponing the trip would have," Willas debated, "If anything, delaying the journey north would have been counterproductive. The threat of the Long Night becomes greater with every passing second. The sooner one gets to the North, the longer they will be there in safety."

"That is precisely why we chose to go north," Tyrion Lannister proclaimed from a few feet away, "Knowing what is awaiting the Seven Kingdoms in the near future, coming to this region now instead of later is much more sensible."

"Well, if you do not mind my asking, why are you here, my lord?" Willas enquired.

"I will tell you later, over a cup of wine," was all the dwarf said in response. Ah, personal reasons. In any case, Willas seemed content with that answer.

While the Tyrells had their brief reunion, Lady Ellyn had one of her own. Two of the individuals that had accompanied Willas and Loras were the tallest man and the tallest woman Olenna had ever seen. They could only have been Gregor Clegane and his lady wife Dacey of House Mormont.

Lady Ellyn handed Duncan to Lord Tyrion so that both of her arms were free. She then moved to embrace her elder brother and sister-by-law. Lord Gregor and Lady Dacey took her in what could have been regarded as a bear hug. With an actual bear.

When she first met Ellyn Lannister, Olenna Tyrell had been impressed by her tremendous size. Yet even Lady Ellyn was diminutive next to the elder of her brothers and his wife. Standing next to them, Lady Olenna noted that Lady Dacey stood at least four inches higher than Ellyn, and Lord Gregor was over a full foot taller than his sister.

Olenna could not help but wonder how tall their children would grow to be. In all three of their house's generations and before, every Clegane had been big-boned.

It appeared that attribute would apply to the members of its fourth generation, too. After all, Duncan Lannister was at least a third larger than the average babe, and his father was a dwarf. With Lord Gregor and Lady Dacey… there was no telling how big their brood would ultimately grow to be.

Years ago, the giants relocated south of the Wall. Soon they may encounter more of their own kind who were born on this side.

After exchanging pleasantries with Ellyn Lannister, Gregor and Dacey Clegane paid their respects to her husband, as well. They had to kneel to even be close to the same level as him. Fortunately, Lord Tyrion did not seem to be so self-conscious about his stature.

Lord Tyrion was not one for embraces. Unless it's his wife, of course. So he simply shook hands with the Mountain and the Bear Islander. At the same time, he managed to hold onto Duncan securely with his left arm.

"And who is this handsome rascal?" Lord Gregor muttered wittily, gesturing to the small boy.

Obviously, that question had been a rhetorical one. Lord Gregor did not actually require an answer. Nevertheless, Lord Tyrion bluntly replied with "Just a little something your dear sister made. With my assistance, that is."

"Well, you both did fabulous work," Lady Dacey perceived, humoring the men.

"We like to think so," Lady Ellyn pronounced candidly.

As far as Olenna Tyrell knew, this was Lord Gregor Clegane's first time seeing his youngest nephew. According to what the Lannisters had told her on their journey north, the Mountain had not been in the Westerlands since a year before Ellyn became pregnant. Even then, he had not been able to visit her at Casterly Rock. He had, however, been able to see her sometime after her wedding. It's an honorable man who goes to such length to make time for his family.

When Lord Gregor and Lady Dacey were finished becoming acquainted with their nephew, they both rose back to their full height. The Mountain finally turned his attention to the individuals that had begun their trek in the Reach. He and his lady wife nodded their heads in polite acknowledgment.

"My ladies," Gregor Clegane proclaimed, gazing around at Olenna, Margaery, Mira, and Sera, "On behalf of the Legion without Banners and Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell, I officially welcome you to Moat Cailin and the North."

"In Lady Forrester's case, we welcome you back," Dacey Clegane slyly added in.

Mira Forrester scoffed at the older woman's jape and commented "I thank you for that."

"As do the rest of us," Margaery spoke in a firm and authoritative tone. She had practiced using her "lady's voice" extensively on their way north. She may or may not need it here.

"Indeed," Olenna Tyrell conceded, gazing around at her surroundings, "I had heard Moat Cailin was a ruin. If so, it is the most remarkable ruin I have ever seen."

"Would you care to see more of it, Grandmother?" Willas suggested.

"Perhaps," the Queen of Thorns answered her grandson, "So long as doing so would not consume too much of our time."

Loras was confused. She could tell by the expression on his face. Mace wore that countenance quite often. "Are you in a hurry, Grandmother?"

"No, but I am on an errand," Olenna Tyrell disclosed, "I told Margaery I would take her to see her betrothed as soon as humanly possible. Winterfell is our final destination, not Moat Cailin. Lingering here or anywhere else would cause us a great setback."

"Not so, my lady," a new voice declared.

Olenna could not see who it belonged to or where it originated from. She furrowed her brow and asked sternly "Who said that?"

A plump young man stepped out from the small crowd that had accompanied Lord Gregor into the courtyard. He appeared to become rather nervous at being addressed by the Queen of Thorns directly. That was hardly new. Olenna Tyrell had a talent of making all manners of men shiver. Be that as it may, this man looked as though timidity was second-nature to him.

"Your name, boy?" Olenna queried.

"T-Tarly, if it please you," the lad revealed with a slight stutter.

She recognized the name immediately. Another Reachman. "You must be Lord Randyll's."

"Aye, my lady," the plump man confirmed, standing up straight and speaking with a little more confidence now, "I am Samwell Tarly of Horn Hill, personal notary to Lord Gregor and scribe of the Legion without Banners."

"Then you must have your work cut out for you, young Samwell," Olenna drily observed.

"As you say," Samwell Tarly avowed.

After a short pause, Olenna said inquisitively "Just what did you mean a moment ago? Why would remaining here for any length of time not impede our progress to the heir of Winterfell?"

"Because Robb Stark is not in Winterfell at this time," Samwell apprised her, "He is here."

That took Olenna by surprise. Margery must have been surprised, too, as she stepped forward and stated inquiringly "He is?"

"He arrived two days past," Lord Gregor Clegane disclosed, "We were just as astounded by his arrival as you are. Normally, he gives us some prior notice. In spite of that, he had his reasons for coming unannounced."

"What reasons might those be?" Olenna enquired.

"The day before he got in, he made what you would call a last-minute decision," the Mountain recounted, "Essentially, the decision involved how he would make his first impression on you."

"How so?" said Margaery.

It was Lady Dacey who gave response: "He claimed that since his intended was coming all the way to the North to call upon him, he felt obligated to escort her through his lands to his home himself."

Olenna and Margaery were astonished by that revelation. Albeit astonished in a good sense. I have not even met the boy, and already I begin to like him.

"That's rather chivalrous of him," Margaery proclaimed.

"If you say so, it must be," Tyrion Lannister interjected, "After all, you of the Reach know all about chivalry,"

That remark yielded a number of snickers from the people in the area.

"So, where is Lord Robb?" Margaery inquired.

"He is preoccupied with a task at the moment," Gregor Clegane pronounced, "But you will see him soon enough, my lady. That much I promise you."

"Very well, my lord," Margaery coincided with a polite grin.

Just then, Sera broke into another loud round of coughing. She looked as though she would collapse. Luckily, Mira caught her before she did.

"Is she alright?" Loras inquired in concern.

"Yes, I… I'm fine," Sera claimed. Not very convincing.

"Forgive her," Mira beseeched everyone present, "I believe she has contracted a fever."

"It would appear so," Gregor Clegane muttered in agreement. He turned to his notary and ordered him "Samwell, escort Lady Sera to Maester Kennick's office. Her fever could worsen or spread if left untreated."

"It will be done, my lord," the heir to Horn Hill assured the Mountain. He made his way over to the coughing handmaiden and took her from Mira Forrester. Sera seemed to have difficulty standing, so he gently pulled her arm over his shoulders. After that, he told her softly "This way, my lady."

"Thank you, ser," Sera Durwell said gratefully, grinning up at him. He flushed and solemnly led her out of the area.

Olenna and the others watched in silence as the two of them left. Once they were gone, Margaery turned to the tallest person there and muttered eagerly "So, Lord Gregor, I believe you mentioned the possibility of giving us a tour of the moat."

"I did," Gregor Clegane affirmed, "Are you still interested in having the tour?"

"By all means, go ahead," Olenna Tyrell bade him, wrapping her shawl around her shoulders, "So long as it culminates in us meeting the heir to Winterfell."

"I shall endeavor to please," Lord Gregor proclaimed, giving the Queen of Thorns a light smile, which she was oddly compelled to return. "He should be finished with his task by then."

Olenna believed him. I know a man of his word when I see one. Such men are a rarity in these times.

Over the next few hours, Gregor Clegane gave Olenna Tyrell, Margaery Tyrell, Tyrion Lannister, Ellyn Lannister, and Mira Forrester a very thorough tour of Moat Cailin. They were accompanied by Dacey Clegane, Willas Tyrell, Loras Tyrell, and everyone else who had come to the courtyard with the Mountain.

Moat Cailin was unique in that it had no singular main building. Instead, its structure was composed of a series of towers within and along the walls.

When the moat was first constructed, there had been a total of twenty towers. Overtime, all but three of them had collapsed. Fortunately, in the time since he had gained lordship of the moat, Gregor Clegane had managed to rebuild all seventeen of the fallen towers. He had also refurbished and reinforced the surviving three.

They started the tour at the Gatehouse Tower. One of the original three, it had served as Lord Gregor's main accommodations in the early days of his domain over the moat. Now it was used as a guardhouse and a base for sentries. That was due to the fantastic view the windows on the south wall gave of the Causeway and the bogs adjoining it.

The Armament Tower came next. This was where the bulk of the moat's weapons and armor were kept. The term "arsenal" hardly did it justice. It was a magnificent assortment of tools and equipment from all over the Known World, not just Westeros.

Next there was the Flour Tower. Despite its ridiculous name, it was one of the most. This was where all the moat's provisions were stored. Teams of professional cooks and bakers worked around the clock to keep the moat's vast population fed. The dishes they produced were impressively broad and tasteful. While they were there, Gregor passed around some bread, salt, and wine to Olenna and the others to ensure that they were protected under guest right.

At the northeast corner was the Worship Tower, one of the more intriguing features of the moat. This was where people went to pay homage to their gods. A godswood could be found just to the north of the tower. A sept was found on the first floor, and the higher levels had space set aside for other faiths, including R'hllor, the Lord of Light. This tower was built right by the moat's harbor, so even the Ironborn and other followers of the Drowned God could practice their religion properly.

Ironically, the Drunkard's Tower was the very next one. This was another of the first three, and nowadays it lived up to its name. It had been made into a tavern, where off-duty Legionnaires and the smallfolk could pass their free time with a skin of wine, a mug of beer, or a tankard of ale. Thoros of Myr could be found going back and forth between this tower and the adjoining one frequently.

After this, they came to the Banquet Tower. As the name suggested, this was where Lord Gregor feasted his family, his soldiers, and his household. To be precise, it was meant to feast all those who had time to sit down to eat. A passageway had been established to connect it to the Flour Tower, so service was easier to conduct.

They followed that up with the Knowledge Tower. This was Samwell Tarly's favorite, as the library could be found here. This was also where Gregor's spies and intelligence gatherers would convene to report on all the different crises that had emerged throughout Westeros. Maester Kennick's office and the rookery were here, as well. However, the most interesting aspect of this tower was that it contained a secret passageway which led outside the walls of Moat Cailin. It was basically an emergency escape route, which would only be used in the event that the moat's occupants were forced to flee. Prepared for all possible situations, I see.

The Captains' Tower was where they went next. Here was where Willas, Oberyn Martell, Brynden Tully, Lyn Corbray, and the other top officers of the Legion without Banners – along with their families and their most trusted deputies – had their lodgings. The Red Viper, the Blackfish, and a few more of the more prominent Legionnaires were there when Olenna visited it. She took the time to exchange pleasantries with them, too.

The Meeting Tower was the smallest, and the second closest to the center (after the Lord's Tower). Lord Gregor also spent the least amount of time at this one. He revealed that this was where he and his lieutenants normally convened to discuss matters of precedence (which were also matters of secrecy). Naturally, he did not disclose or elaborate on any of these "matters."

The Lord's Tower was very remarkable. It was the tallest, and the only one where the entirety of the moat could be seen from the top. Lord Gregor, Lady Dacey, their children, and their household resided there. Olenna was glad they did not end up climbing this tower. Climbing long flights of stairs did not agree with her. Lord Tyrion seemed to think the same of himself.

The Smelting Tower was rather fascinating. This was where all of the moat's mining operations were carried out, as well as where Lord Gregor had several creations of his own – primarily cement and concrete – made all throughout the day. This was also were he had his private stores of black powder kept under lock and key. Olenna had to admire how innovative this one was.

The Pleasure Tower came after. Gregor and Dacey were reluctant to approach this one, and Olenna could understand why. As the name implied, the tower was just a fancy brothel. This had been the last tower to be built, and it was only established as a means to "entertain" unwed Legionnaires or visitors to the moat. The Mountain and the Bear Islander actually thought little and less of whores. All the same, the brothel happened to bring in a fairly large amount of income for House Clegane.

They subsequently went to the Healing Tower. This one was designed similarly to a greenhouse or a botanical garden. Dozens of medicinal herbs were grown in half of the rooms. The other half of the rooms had alchemy labs, where the herbs were mixed and tested to determine their specific effects. Because of this, the Legion's medicinal capabilities had expanded dramatically.

While the Lord's Tower was the tallest, the Infantry Tower was a close second. It was also by far the longest and widest. This was where the common soldiers of the Legion had their accommodations. Nearly four thousand men, women, and their families resided there. Despite the vast number, the living conditions were not too overcrowded.

The Children's Tower was the last of the three original ones. Although the Clegane children had their own nursery below their parents' bedroom in the Lord's Tower, this tower was essentially one giant nursery for all the other children in the moat. This was where on-duty Legionnaires left their children while they were working. They left them in the hands of a great number of highly qualified caretakers. Lord Gregor and Lady Dacey's second son, Alyver, was at the front of the building. He was looking after his younger siblings Vallory, Larys, and Torrhen.

The Artist's Tower was equally parts exotic and soothing. This was where some of the more expressive Legionnaires went to hone their love of the arts in their spare time. Some took up mummery. Some painted. Some sculpted. Some sang. The whole building was basically a center of discovery and talent.

The Reproach Tower was aptly named. It was the dreariest and least crowded of the towers. This was where criminals, dissidents, traitors, and even defiant Legionnaires were taken to be chastised. While there were no instruments of extreme torture to be seen anywhere, there were plenty of whips, chains, and other unpleasant devices. They did not stay long at this one, thankfully.

The Boarder Tower was yet another building designed to house certain people. However, it was intended to serve as a place of temporary residence. People who were simply visiting the moat or passing through the region were given rooms there. The top floors were set aside for highborn guests. As such, Olenna, Margaery, Mira, Tyrion, Ellyn, and Duncan would be given rooms up there for the duration of their stay.

The Parish Tower did not seem very interesting at first, but it turned out to be curiously complex. There were three small villages on the lands immediately north of Moat Cailin. All of them had been built during Lord Gregor's tenure, and all three were continuing to grow alongside the moat. Since all three were located within the perimeter of the moat's concrete wall, they only had so much room to develop. This tower was devoted to optimizing whatever space was left and ensuring that all three villages benefited from it fairly.

The final tower they visited was the Novice Tower. This was where the Legion's newest recruits were sent when they first arrived at the moat. There they were put through a series of trials designed to test their mental, physical, and intellectual proficiencies. It was an exhaustive and exhausting process, but it effectively determined where each Legionnaire would be most useful in the organization.

In the end, even the Queen of Thorns could not deny that Moat Cailin was an extremely impressive holdfast. Even Highgarden was not so expertly coordinated as the moat on a regular basis. Lord Gregor certainly knows how to make the most of his land.

Despite how rewarding and enlightening this excursion had been, Olenna Tyrell had not forgotten the pledge the Mountain had given her when they began. Luckily, neither had he. After they cleared the Novice Tower, Lord Gregor announced "Now, let us go find the Young Wolf."

"'Young Wolf?'" Margaery noted in mild perplexity.

"That's the moniker he uses for Robb Stark," Dacey informed the younger woman. Well, considering the sigil of House Stark, that would be appropriate. At least it sounds respectful. Some aren't so fortunate to have such a fierce moniker. As I recall, there are some who are fond of calling Mace 'the Fat Flower.'

A few moments after they left the Novice Tower, Samwell Tarly finally rejoined the company.

"Lady Sera will be fine," he notified them, "Maester Kennick says she does indeed have a fever. She just needs to rest for now."

"Alright," Margaery acknowledged, breathing a sigh of relief, "Thank you for seeing to her needs."

"It was no burden, my lady," Samwell assured her.

Gregor Clegane then stepped up to his notary and asked him "Sam, have you seen Robb?"

The plump boy from Horn Hill thought a moment, and then he proclaimed "Yes, I believe I spotted him by the training yard on my way here."

"Near the training yard or in it?" Dacey Clegane enquired.

"Hard to say, my lady," Samwell admitted, "I suppose there is only one way to find out."

"Quite," the Mountain coincided. He looked around at everyone else in the vicinity and declared "If no one has any objections, we will make for the training yard."

Unsurprisingly, there were no objections. Especially not from Margaery Tyrell or her grandmother. As such, the company swiftly headed for the moat's training yard.

When they got there, they saw that it was being used. Two young men – grown boys, really – were in the center of the ring. They were in the midst of a fierce duel.

Both duelists wore chainmail over doublets of boiled leather, iron-studded breeches, woolen gloves, spiked boots, and plated greathelms that covered their heads entirely. Each was armed with a bastard sword.

Even before Olenna and her company arrived, they had not been alone. The duel was being observed by several people who stood in various places along the perimeter of the ring. Two of the spectators wore the exact same set of armor as the fighters. One of those two sat on a bench with his arms folded. The other was notably tall, and he stood beside a middle-aged knight whose cheeks were covered with white whiskers.

There were three more men in the area. One of them wore a hauberk, trousers, and a swore at his waist. He was older than the other two men put together. The second man was clad entirely in the white armor of the Kingsguard. The third was dressed rather elegantly, and he had short hair and a close-cropped beard with the distinctive black coloring of the Baratheons. Olenna identified him almost straightaway.

There were two women. One was a little older than Margaery. She had flaming red hair and a physique may have looked more natural on a man. Olenna could not tell if she was highborn or lowborn. Perhaps neither.

The other woman appeared to be a chambermaid. What she was doing there, Olenna could not venture a guess. Then she noted that the maid was sitting by three mounds of what appeared to be fur. Half of her attention was directed at the duel; the other half on the piles of fur. Maybe she is here to ensure that no one in the yard freezes his arse off.

One of the duelists was slightly taller than the other. Both of them were armed with a bastard sword. The taller of them held his in both of his hands. The shorter one only used one hand. While the taller one's attacks were based more on strength, the shorter one's tactics relied more on agility and speed.

Each has his own gifts and his own flaws. I wonder which of them shall triumph.

About three minutes later, Olenna found out. The shorter boy managed to knock the taller boy flat onto his back. Before he could rebound or attempt to counterattack from the ground, his opponent stood above him with his sword pointed directly at his neck.

Everyone in the area watched in tense silence and waited for something to happen.

Ultimately, the boy on the ground let out a frustrated sigh, held one of his hands in the air, and declared glumly "I yield."

The red-haired girl, the maid, and the elderly knight cheered, whilst the Kingsguard and the young man with the black beard frowned a bit.

The victor of the duel moved his sword away from his victim and offered his free hand in its place. The loser grudgingly accepted the gesture and allowed his bester to pull him back to his feet.

The white-whiskered knight then entered the ring and approached the duelists. When he was close enough that they could touch him with the tips of their swords, he folded his arms and asked both of them "Would you say this was a fair match?"

"More than fair, Ser Rodrik," the shorter one proclaimed.

"Fair as it could be," the taller one disputed.

Judging by the former boy's addressing of the knight, Olenna deduced that he must have been Ser Rodrik Cassel, the master-at-arms of Moat Cailin. Loras had mentioned Ser Rodrik in one of his letters. He claimed the Northerner was a formidable warrior… for a man of his age. Dear Loras, as vain as he is skilled in combat.

Ser Rodrik turned to the taller duelist and queried "Can you tell me what you did wrong, Your Grace?"

Your Grace? Olenna was aware that Crown Prince Jasper Baratheon was being fostered at Moat Cailin. But when she entered the training yard, she had not suspected for a moment that he was one of the duelists. That would explain the presence of the Kingsguard knight and Lord Renly.

"Yes," the taller duelist retorted. He raised up his left arm, took ahold of his helm, and pulled it off. In doing so, he revealed the face of a black-haired, blue-eyed lad of fourteen. He glared down at his headgear in disdain and mumbled "I agreed to wear this damnable helm."

"The helm is the whole point of this exercise," Rodrik Cassel reminded him.

"Well, it is not a very practical point, Ser Rodrik," Prince Jasper contended, turning back to the Northern knight, "The only opening is a thin slit. Would not a helm with genuine eyeholes be more practical?"

"Eyeholes are just big enough for an arrow to sail through," the tallest armored boy professed from the sideline.

"Be that as it may, the slit is inadequate to see properly," Jasper claimed, "So much so that it greatly impairs my field of vision."

"It impairs mine, as well," his as-of-yet unmasked opponent disclosed, "The key is to find a way to compensate for your loss of sight."

"In return for what?" Jasper Baratheon countered, holding up his helm again, "What possible advantage would be worthy of fighting in near-total blindness?"

"The assurance that you will not lose your head," Rodrik Cassel pronounced, "In the heat of battle, men will aim for any part of their enemies which they can reach. Most of them tend to aim for the upper body, the head in particular. If ever you are surrounded by overwhelmingly greater numbers, my prince, you will need all the defenses you could muster. This type of helm will repel the blow of any weapon, be it sword, axe, mace, spearhead or even arrowhead."

Prince Jasper stood in silence for a minute, reflecting over the validity of those points. After that, he stated "While I appreciate the assurance of keeping my head, let us suppose my opponent catches on to how impenetrable my helm is. Logically, once he realizes that my head is not a vulnerable target, he would simply redirect his focus to another part of me. If I cannot see him clearly, how am I to know where his attack will come from?"

"Once you have mastered seeing as plainly with the helm as you would without it, we will move on to defending yourself with it on," Rodrik Cassel replied.

"We may be at this a while then," Jasper bluntly remarked.

Ser Rodrik Cassel frowned at that and muttered "No one is forcing you to learn these techniques, Your Grace. As I recall, you yourself asked me to teach you alongside these other lads. If the exercises seem unreasonable, you have every right to pull out."

Jasper looked indignant, as though Ser Rodrik had just called him a eunuch. However, he did not lose his temper. He merely smirked and murmured "Stags do not give up so easily, my good ser. If there is one thing I've learned from my royal father, it is that no one ever gets anywhere without trying. You can rest assured; I will continue to try until I succeed."

That seemed to please Ser Rodrik. He grinned at the black-haired boy and stated "I've no doubt you will, Your Grace."

"In any case, Ser Rodrik does not undershoot the importance of having protection for one's head," the largest armored boy contended, "My uncle Sandor did not wear a helm at the Battle of Fair Isle. Look what happened to him."

"An excellent point," the boy who defeated Prince Jasper conceded. Olenna was not yet certain who he was, but she believed she had figured out the largest boy's identity.

Her assumption was proven correct a moment later, when Rodrik Cassel looked up at the boy and proposed "Would you care to go next, Master Rickard?"

"Ordinarily, I would be glad to oblige, Ser Rodrik," Rickard Clegane remarked. He then removed his helm, exposing his youthful yet stout façade. He could not have been older than twelve namedays, but in terms of stature, he was already a man grown. After he took off his helm, Rickard looked towards the entrance of the yard and observed "However, it would seem we have visitors."

He was the first to acknowledge the arrival of Lord Gregor, Lady Olenna, and their companions. The others in the training yard were quick to do the same.

"Indeed we do," Jasper Baratheon concurred. Holding his helm under one arm and his sword in the other, he made his way over the large crowd that had assembled at the mouth of the yard. His uncle Renly, the Kingsguard knight, and Rickard Clegane accompanied him.

When he came near, Olenna saw that Rickard was the fifth tallest person there, after his father, his mother, and his aunt. Right and Left may have been a little taller, but they had not accompanied Olenna on her tour of the moat. Since they were not with her at this time, she could not compare their height to Rickard's.

Olenna Tyrell, Margaery, Mira, Tyrion, Ellyn, and everyone who had made the journey north with them dipped their heads in respect as the Crown Prince approached them.

"There is no need for that here," Jasper Baratheon humbly told them, "In the training yard, we are all equal in status."

The only place in the realm where you can knock a prince on his arse and everyone jests about it.

Jasper took a moment to introduce the Kingsguard knight. He apprised the newcomers "This is my sworn shield, Ser Arys Oakheart."

I thought he had the look of a Reachman. Olenna Tyrell stepped forward and presumed "You are the son of Arwyn Oakheart of Old Oak, are you not?"

"One of her sons, yes," the knight in white confirmed.

Olenna smiled lightly and declared "Lady Arwyn is a close friend of mine."

"I know, Lady Olenna," Ser Arys pronounced, returning the smile, "My lady mother speaks fondly of you quite often."

And the rest of the time, she is probably telling the secrets I shared with her when we were girls. Is that what you mean to say? Olenna did not think Arwyn Oakheart would actually tell anyone those secrets. The two of them had been friends since they were younger than Margaery.

Despite Jasper's dismissal of customary royal greetings, Margaery remembered her courtesies. She hastily curtsied and told the black-haired boy "It is an honor to meet you, my prince."

"Likewise, Lady Margaery," Prince Jasper proclaimed cordially.

Olenna and her granddaughter were stunned. She did not even have a chance to introduce herself yet.

"How did you-?" Margaery began.

"Permit me this interruption, my lady," Jasper Baratheon politely cut in, "But one look at Willas and Ser Loras, another look at you, and it is not hard to tell you are their sister. Far as I know, they only have one."

Margaery chuckled at that. "You are rather observant, Your Grace."

"When women are involved, he always is," the winner of the duel cheekily proclaimed, "If only he were so observant in the yard. Then he might win a little more often."

Rickard Clegane, Renly Baratheon, and some of Lord Gregor's affiliates laughed at that. Jasper just rolled his eyes and muttered "One of these days, it'll be me helping you off the ground."

"I'll believe that when it actually happens," the triumphant duelist uttered drily. It was here that he finally took of his helm. In doing so, he exposed a mass of dark brown hair, which was fastened in a hairnet. He removed the net and shook his head to let his hair return to its normal length. He appeared to have seen six and ten namedays.

Margaery leaned over to the Queen of Thorns and whispered "Could that be him, Grandmother?"

He does have the traditional coloring of the Starks. But I remember being told that all of Lord Eddard's sons take after their mother in appearance. Then again, one cannot believe everything one hears.

"Let us find out directly," Olenna proposed. Margaery nodded compliantly.

The Queen of Thorns and her granddaughter broke off from the rest of their company and walked to the center of the training yard. As they neared the boy with dark brown hair, he bowed his head and greeted them with "Good day, my ladies."

"Good day to you, my lord," Margaery bade him accordingly.

He paused at that, grimaced, and murmured "Forgive me, but I am no lord."

"Not yet," Olenna commented, taking note of his reaction.

"Not ever, most like," the lad refuted gloomily.

At that moment, the red-haired girl crept up behind him and placed her hands on his biceps. He looked back and smiled at her. She smiled back and remarked "Well, you just bested a prince in a contest of skill. That could be a sign of good fortune in your favor."

"Or it could mean that I'm a better swordsman than Jasper," he argued.

"Don't forget; survival of the fittest," she told him, "Only those best suited to enduring the world will come to master it."

"This was one duel, Ygritte," he pointed out, "One duel does not determine my place in the world. Aside from that, I told you I would win the duel. Anyway, you knew I would win just as I knew I would win."

The red-haired girl snickered, placed a kiss on the boy's cheek and chided "You know nothing, Jon Snow."

Ah, so this is not the heir to Winterfell after all. Quite the contrary, Olenna realized that she and Margaery had not been speaking with Eddard Stark's son. They had been speaking with his nephew. His bastard nephew, in fact.

To his credit, he is a little more courteous than the average bastard.

While Olenna's face betrayed no indication of emotion, Margaery's suggested she was a little dismayed.

Jon Snow was quick to notice this. He asked in concern "Are you unwell, my lady?"

"Oh, no, ser," Margaery hastily claimed, "Not at all. When I first saw you, I… I thought you were someone else."

She did not have to clarify who "someone else" was. Evidently, the bastard boy already knew who, as he scoffed and uttered "Think nothing of it, my lady. You are not the first to mistake me for my cousin."

It should come as no surprise that he knew we were looking for Robb Stark. The marriage contract between his cousin and my granddaughter is practically common knowledge in these parts.

"He's much too handsome, anyway," a cocky voice from the side of the yard called out.

Olenna turned in the direction of that voice. The fourth armored boy had just risen from his bench. He was making his way over to the Queen of Thorns, Margaery Tyrell, Jon Snow, and his red-haired flame, Ygritte.

When he was less than three feet from all of them, he stopped, tilted his head slightly, and declared to Margaery "I believe I am the one you wished to see, my lady."

At that, he proceeded to remove his helm. Beneath that headpiece was a head of short auburn hair and a pale face that had seen sixteen namedays. He held a grim, stoic countenance for about ten seconds. Then he broke into a benign smile and declared in serious tone "Robb Stark, son and heir to Lord Eddard of Winterfell, at your service."

In response, Margaery took two steps forward, grinned at the heir to the North, and announced "Margaery of House Tyrell, only daughter to Lord Mace of Highgarden. I am delighted to make your acquaintance, my lord."

"Much appreciated, my lady," Robb Stark returned genially. He walked up to Margaery and placed a chaste kiss on each of her cheeks. She flushed at first, but then she giggled in pleasant surprise. Robb told her and her grandmother "I hope you enjoy your time in the North. I will do everything in my power to make your stay as comfortable as possible."

"Thank you, my boy," Olenna Tyrell stated gratefully. Margaery merely continued to smile.

If that smile is any indication, Margaery's stay may turn out to be exceptionally long. Already, we are off to a fine start.

"Have you been around the moat yet?" Jon Snow queried.

"Yes, Lord Gregor gave us a comprehensive tour," Margaery disclosed.

"Well, I wish to apologize for not presenting myself to you until this moment," Robb Stark said sincerely, "Had I known you would arrive today, I would have been there to greet you myself."

"You needn't explain yourself, my lord," Margaery asserted, "Lord Gregor told us you were busy with a task."

"What a task it was," Olenna commented sarcastically, gazing around the training yard.

"Oh, this isn't what he meant," Robb Stark revealed, "I was seeing to a task, but it involved something more than clashing steel."

"Something a little more mundane than swordplay," Jon Snow claimed, "But even more rewarding."

"What?" Margaery queried in interest.

Neither boy replied straightaway. First they looked to each other, and then Robb asked "Would you really like to know?"

"Absolutely," Margaery avowed.

Robb and Jon simultaneously raised their chins upward and gave a sharp whistle.

Out of the corner of her eye, Olenna Tyrell could see the maid sitting by the three piles of fur. All of a sudden, the piles of fur started… moving.

Olenna soon discovered that the piles of fur were not mere piles after all. They were live wolves.

The two smaller wolves bounded over to Robb Stark and Jon Snow. Robb's wolf was mostly grey, whereas Jon's was white as fresh-fallen snow. The largest wolf got to her feet, but she stayed near the maid.

"Allow me to introduce Grey Wind," Robb announced, gesturing to the wolf by his side.

"And this is Ghost," Jon pronounced.

Olenna and Margaery watched as Ygritte reached down and scratched Ghost behind his ears. Despite his menacing exterior, he growled like a puppy at this friendly action.

Margaery seemed to get an idea. She took a tentative step closer to Grey Wind and outstretched her hand. The wolf snarled and bore his fangs, causing her to hesitate. Robb knelt beside his wolf and muttered sternly "You be nice to her, understand?"

After that, Grey Wind seemed to settle down. He allowed Margaery to approach him and place her hands on him. She knelt before him and rubbed his muzzle and neck. In response, he licked her hand playfully, eliciting some giggles from her.

This is beyond remarkable. Remarkable or no, it was a definite sign that a wolf and a rose could coexist in happiness.

"They're rather large for their age," Olenna perceived.

"Because they are not ordinary wolves," Jon Snow proclaimed, "They are direwolves."

"Whatever they are, they're amazing," Margaery commented as she continued to pet Grey Wind, "Where did you find them?"

"In the backside of their mother," Ygritte drily replied.

Margaery bit her lip to suppress the urge to laugh. Olenna just shook her head and inquired "And where did you find their mother?"

"In the woods outside of Winterfell," Jon Snow disclosed, "She was heavily pregnant when we first encountered her. She had a litter less than a day after we brought her home."

"So how many wolves do you have now?" Olenna queried.

"Seven," Robb informed her, "Jon, my brothers, my sisters and I each took one of the pups as our own."

"And what of the mother?" Margaery inquired, "Who took responsibility of her?"

"I did, my lady."

Sometime in the last minute, the chambermaid had gotten up and entered the ring of the training yard. The third wolf had accompanied her, and it turned out she was the mother direwolf. That was when Olenna saw just how large the third wolf truly was. She was just a little smaller than a horse. Nevertheless, she seemed remarkably well-trained and civilized.

"And who might you be, my dear?" Olenna inquired curiously

Jon Snow walked over to the young woman and announced "This is Myrna, my personal maid."

Myrna nodded and placed a hand on the mother dirwolf's back. She revealed "And this lovely creature is Lyarra."