Harry sat at the high table with Maester Luwin to his right and his mother to his left. His little brother Bran was happily sitting on his mother's lap, looking around in wonder at the colourful banners that adorned the halls of Winterfell. The grey direwolf was there, but his black direwolf banner was also present, decorating Winterfell's halls in varying colours of grey, yellow, and black. His trusted familiar Fenris was lying at the foot of the table, lazily eyeing the gathered crowd in the hall. Should Fenris stand on his legs, his snout would tower over the table. The massive form of his direwolf friend was quite helpful in exerting a touch of intimidation in the court of Winterfell. Often, the petitioners in the court would forget his position and personal power owing to his young age and appearance. In such instances, Fenris' presence had become an advantage.
A stout older woman with grey hair walked through the hall's opened oak doors, accompanied by a much younger woman by her side in the lead and a gaggle of men and women closely following the two. The two women were dressed in black breeches and leather armour with bear pelts hanging loosely over their shoulders. Harry could see a glint of metal on the younger woman's shoulders. He suspected it was chainmail, or perhaps it was a metal guard of some sort for her shoulders.
"Lord Stark." The older woman fell to a knee in the middle of the hall and bowed low.
The younger woman followed next, and the rest quickly fell to their knees.
"Welcome, Lady Mormont. I was not expecting a visit from the head of House Mormont, but the lords and ladies of the North are always welcome to share the warmth of the halls of Winterfell." Harry said amicably.
"We thank you, my lord." Lady Mormont climbed to her feet. "This is my eldest daughter Dacey Mormont."
Harry nodded at the comely-looking woman who had flowing black hair that reached beyond her shoulder and expressive black eyes. Unlike her mother, Dacey Mormont was slender looking and nearly six feet tall. There was a certain gracefulness for Dacey Mormont that was palpable to Harry. It was almost as if…
Harry's eyes widened slightly as his magical senses went haywire when he concentrated on Dacey Mormont. There was a tingling sensation on his skin that set him on edge. Try as he might, he could not discern whether his magic was sensing danger or an unknown pool of magical energy from the younger Mormont.
'This needs to be studied in detail.' Harry thought, his eyes occasionally straying to Dacey Mormont while keeping his attention on the petition put forth by Maege Mormont.
When the Lady of Mormont Keep expressed her request to him in the open court of Winterfell, Harry exchanged a look with Maester Luwin that screamed, 'I told you so'. Maege Mormont wanted to suspend his father's punishment on House Mormont. Even if Harry was afforded the power to give some respite to House Mormont, he didn't feel like giving one simply because of the crime involved.
"My lady, you ask too much of House Stark." Harry thundered from his seat, staring a tad angrily at the Mormont women. "Your nephew and former lord of Baer Islands engaged in slavery, a crime that demands the death penalty. Jorah Mormont ran away when my father travelled to Bear Islands to exact justice. His actions have not only shamed your house but also shamed the North. It also caused the Northern army to march late when our king called his banners. Despite all that, you'd ask House Stark to suspend the sentence of reparations to the affected families for the period of five years!"
"My lord, the actions of my nephew are unforgivable. If not for the sin of kinslaying, I'd have smashed my mace on my nephew's head and ended his life. But please understand my nephew spent frivolously in pursuit of keeping his Hightower wife live a life of luxury that cleaned out our coffers. Even if I wanted to, I could not pay the reparations for the affected families and victims because our coffers are empty." Maege Mormont admitted shamefully.
"Surely, House Mormont have valuables in goods that could raise enough gold and silver to pay off the amount of the reparations fixed by Lord Eddard." Maester Luwin suggested.
"I'm afraid we do not possess much after my nephew ruined our House, Maester." Maege Mormont admitted, her eyes downcast as whispers in the court grew ever louder. Some were openly jeering and insulting the Lady of Bear Islands.
"Silence! I'll not have guests of House Stark be insulted, no matter the cause." Harry shouted, asserting his control over the court once more, which was now a common occurrence.
The Northerners were a rowdy bunch. It was an inborn trait common amongst his people to always be against authority in whatever way possible. In the short time he had held court, he came to respect his father more for holding the court seamlessly and the rowdier versions of the Northern lords together. Even his words were not enough; the threatening snarl Fenris let out quieted down the court to his desire.
"You're doing well." Maester Luwin said to him with an approving smile.
"You possess something of great value that can settle the debt you are owed, Lady Mormont. I believe your houses possess a valyrian steel sword. I'm sure the sword would yield you enough gold to settle your debts and restore the finances of House Mormont." Catelyn said, looking coldly down at the two Mormont women who squirmed under the frosty glare and the suggestion of the Lady of Winterfell.
"My lady, Longclaw has been in our family for generations. Selling it is akin to spitting on the sacrifices of our ancestors." Maege Mormont said, horror written all over her face.
"And yet, you're comfortable living with the stain of consorting with slavers? Your house has put the entirety of the North to shame, my lady. We are now the laughing stock in the South simply because you could not even place your nephew under arrest after committing such heinous crimes on our soil." Harry snapped coldly. "And you'd have me revoke the punishment confirmed by my father, the Warden of the North? I think not."
Harry was on his feet and walked around the high table to stare indifferently at the two Mormont women.
"Winterfell will not tolerate any action by our bannermen straying from the age-old traditions of the First Men. Slavery is not our way. We follow the Old Ways here in the North. House Mormont will pay the reparations imposed on it within the given time; else Winter will come for them." Harry declared, accompanied by a low growl from Fenris that made his message clear. "The court will take a short recess before continuing with the rest of the petitions."
Harry retired to his father's solar, but not before he whispered specific instructions to Maester Luwin away from other prying eyes. He waited patiently on his father's chair with the large Red oak table holding a delicious-looking cake the cooks made because it was Sansa's seventh namesday. He cut the cake into three equal parts and distributed it across three plates. By the time he was done, Maester Luwin had come into the solar with Maege and Dacey Mormont in tow. The two women were suitably flummoxed for getting a personal invite after the hostility they faced in the court.
"Come sit. Have some cake." he offered the plates and the silverware to the two women.
The two women exchanged a baffled look but took their seats and accepted the cake rather numbly. Their disbelief was plain to see, and Harry couldn't fault them. He nodded at Maester Luwin, and the old maester discreetly pulled out of the solar with the door closing behind his back.
"As the Stark of Winterfell, I cannot help you in any manner. It'd compromise my father's edicts and Winterfell's authority. However, I can help your house as the Lord of Avalon by loaning you the gold and silver you need to tide over the present difficulties." said Harry, brightening the faces of the two Mormonts. "However, I need several things from you in return. Are you interested?"
"My lord, House Mormont would be most grateful for your aid. How may we serve you?" Maege asked, dipping her head in deference.
Harry smiled at Lady Mormont and told the woman what he wanted from the Bear Islands. After all, his budding fleet needed port facilities if he was to develop a vibrant ice industry to prop up the economic activity in the region. It also helps that a military outpost could be set up close to the Wall.
If he planned it right, the ice industry could end up making the entire North rich. It was one of the reasons why he was pursuing mundane solutions to export ice rather than using magic to create and export it to the warm lands of the Sunset Sea. He suspected he could leverage his excellent relationship with Prince Oberyn to export ice to Dorne and perhaps distant lands like the Summer Isles or the many Free Cities of Essos. Simply shipping boatloads of ice would be useless if there was no local technology to store it safely. This was why he had charged the Alchemists to create ice houses in Avalon, and they had come through after months of hard work. He had already ordered the construction of an ice house in Winterfell, and soon, it'd spread to all corners of the known world just like Avalonian glass.
XXXXXXX
Randyll Tarly camped outside the walls of Appleton with a sizeable army under his command. While King Robert had ridden off to rout the Lannister army along the Ocean Road, he was charged with the duty to repel the Lannister army invading the Reach from the Roseroad. He chose this castle to contain the Lannister host because it was sitting on the Roseroad atop a hill guarding the path towards Highgarden. The castle was built to break a besieging army with its many gatehouses and sturdy walls.
Not that he thought the castle would play any substantial role in the battle that was about to take place. His scouts had informed him that the Lannister army had very few foot soldiers in their host. Most of the foot was even formed out of the defeated Houses of the Reach like Footly, Caswell, Bridges and several petty knights and landed knights in the northeast regions of the Reach. He suspected they'd break at the first sign of trouble, and the Lannisters would get easily routed in the chaos. If it was not for House Tyrell calling all the banners of the Reach to gather at Highgarden, this folly could've been averted. The Lannisters would've dared not launch an invasion from the Goldroad into the Reach if they knew the castles and fields were unprotected.
There was no point in dwelling on what might've been when the battle was about to start. His scouts had already encountered several Lannister spies scouting the land in the last few days. The Lannisters would've no choice but to engage him in battle as he had seen to it that they'd have no other choice if they intended to attack the rear of King Robert's host.
He had made sure to block all ways around Appleton with pockets of men. Ser Jon Fossoway protects the castle of New Barrel along with the Fossoways of Cider Hall. Another host of three thousand men was waiting farther back from New Barrel under the command of Lord Alyn Roxton. Should the Fossoways get overwhelmed by the Lannister army Lord Roxton would ride in and smash the Lannister army outside the walls of New Barrel. With these two mighty forces, the southern side of Appleton was well guarded. To the north of Appleton ran the Mander, making it near impossible for the Lannister army to cross over. Even if they somehow managed to make a run to the north of Appleton, a force of two thousand men and eight hundred horses was waiting under the command of Lord Gulian Swann to greet the lions with the sturdy steel of Stormlands.
Under these circumstances, Randyll was certain the Lannister army would have no choice but to tackle him head-on. Should Ser Kevan go after New Barrel or circumvent Appleton through the northside, then Randyll could effortlessly chase after the Lannister army and put an end to them between Highgarden and Appleton.
"Lord Tarly."
He found Ser Leo Constayne riding towards him with a gaggle of knights accompanying the young knight of the Three Towers.
"Ser Constayne. Any word on the enemy movements?" he asked.
"No further movements to report, my lord. The last sighting put the Lannister army five miles away, riding a moderate pace along the Roseroad."
Randyll became thoughtful and exchanged a concerned look with Ser Andrew Ashford.
"Send our scouts to New Barrel. We need to know whether Lannister forces attacked them." Randyll ordered.
"Aye, my lord." Ser Andrew nodded and rode off, presumably to send the scouts right away.
While the knight of Ashford was arranging the scouts, he tracked down the Maester of Appleton to see whether any ravens had arrived from New Barrel or some of their allies. To his displeasure, there was only a single raven, and that was from Highgarden inquiring about the status of the Lannister army. The day passed without much fanfare, but very early morning, he was roused from his sleep by Lord Weymar Appleton.
"My lord. The Lannister army attacked New Barrel. We just received the raven from Ser Jon Fossoway."
Randyll was immediately on his feet, ready to act. But he did not have all the information, so he waited for the scouts to return. The scouts he sent only returned by afternoon; by then, his army was armed and ready for anything. According to the scouts, the Lannisters sent only a token force of eight hundred men against New Barrel. The Fossoways were able to repel the enemy and chase them away from the castle. Lord Fossoway chose to pull back his forces instead of chasing the lions and was supposedly entrenching himself in his castle. While some among his war council blamed Ser Jon Fossoway for cowardice, he approved the man's methods. It was apparent that the Lannisters wanted the Fossoways to chase them and fight the battle on their terms.
"Perhaps, we should've charged the Red Apples to command the army at New Barrel. They would've smashed the lions today." said Ser Garth Tyrell, his tongue slurred towards the end thanks to the gallons of wine the gluttonous buffoon had consumed.
If he disliked Mace Tyrell, the man's uncle Garth Tyrell was someone he hated with a passion. Garth Tyrell was fat, weak, provided no valuable contribution and finally, a simpleton the likes of which he could not tolerate on a battlefield. By comparison, he liked Mace Tyrell better. At least the Fat Flower was a likeable lord outside the battlefield. The uncle of Mace Tyrell, on the other hand, was a simpleton even in peacetime. He wondered why this buffoon was sent forth by his liege lord to this front. Was it to torment him? If so, it was working.
Taking a deep breath, he ignored the man in favour of eyeing Lord Appleton.
"Send a raven to New Barrel asking the Fossoways to hold their castle. They are not to move from their position. Should they fall, we'll be forced to send men to guard all the roads south of Appleton." Randyll ordered.
"It'll be done, my lord." the young lord nodded.
"So, we're going to attack the wee lions, eh? The battle will be one for the songs." Ser Garth proclaimed and proceeded to mindlessly mutter about some stupid songs and whatnot the man supposedly heard recently. The man's two bastard sons filled the wine cup diligently.
Randyll just shook his head and looked at Lord Andrew Ashford and Ser Leo Constayne.
"We'll be holding our position. We have the advantage of the higher ground and a castle at our backs. We'll wait for Ser Kevan Lannister to make his move." Randyll said firmly, making the knights and the lords nod their agreement.
Then his eyes strayed to the idiot drinking himself into a stupor in the war council. An idea slowly came to his mind to get rid of the nuisance detrimental to preparing the men to face the lions in the open field. It was a cruel thing to do, but he'd instead save his men from idiotic Tyrells rather than send them off to fight in the vain hope that Garth Tyrell would sleep soundly in the camp with a wine-addled mind when they were fighting the good battle.
"While we give the lions to prepare, I suggest we send a token force against the Lannister camp to test their defences and to keep them on their toes. Now, who'll lead this most important task?" Randyll asked, waiting for the inevitable.
"I'll do it. The glory of battling the lions should be mine." Ser Garth declared.
"I see. Then you'll have the command of your men, my lord. Remember that you're only expected to engage the enemy in a small skirmish to ascertain their strength and intimidate them. Another aim should be to let the enemy chase after you so that we may set certain traps to shave off their numbers."
"I understand, Lord Tarly. I'll teach those lions a lesson they'll never…" Garth Tyrell slowly snored towards the end as the man fell asleep amid his show of bravado.
Randyll's eyes twitched with irritation at the disrespect shown by Garth Tyrell. A moment later, the tent was flooded with a foul smell just as Garth Tyrell farted. His nose twitched as the awful smell invaded his nostrils.
'I suppose now I know why they call the man Garth the Gross.' Randyll thought.
However, he was happy that Garth Tyrell was responsible for leading the attack on the Lannister camp. Should the seven be kind, he'd be rid of the gluttonous idiot, making it easier for him to discipline the remaining men.
He remembered the incident that took place a few nights back. Ser Garth Tyrell threw a feast and organised a horse-riding contest that saw several men dead and quite a few severely injured because all those idiots were drunk out of their minds. Randyll would not tolerate such brazen stupidity while commanding the army. He could not take severe action against Garth Tyrell because the man was the brother of his liege lord. But he was no longer willing to tolerate the man. One less Tyrell was not a significant loss for the Reach in his mind.