Robb suppressed a sigh of annoyance as he looked over Walder Frey's refusal. The old lord of the Crossing had been blunt and biting in his refusal to let Robb and his host of twenty thousand use his bridge to cross the Green Fork. This caused the northern army problems as lannister armies were currently wreaking havoc in the Riverlands. One host was controlled by Tywin Lannister, the Lord of Casterly Rock. He and twenty thousand men were currently sat at Harrenhal, protecting the Kingslayer and his host of fifteen thousand while they besieged Riverrun.
Just more issues for the young Stark to deal with while his mind was on his father, who had been wrongfully imprisoned by the royal prick in King's Landing.
"Let's take the damn castle and put the old bastard in his place. Then we can deal with the Kingslayer and the Old Lion before we rescue Ned." the Greatjon roared, slamming his massive fist on the table.
Robb's war council was composed of seasoned warriors who were veterans of the last two wars. Most vocal among them was the lord of the Last Hearth, Jon Umber, also known as the 'Greatjon'. A mountain of a man who was not subtle about his opinion. Beside him sat Rickard Karstark, another large man with a massive beard and fiery personality. He, like the Greatjon, believed in action over words. Others on the council were Lady Maege Mormont of Bear Island. A stout, grey-haired woman who could swing a war mace better than most men. Beside her sat Galbart Glover, the burly master of Deepwood Motte, one of the Stark's most loyal bannermen.
The final two members of the council were potentially the most dangerous of the lot. The first was Roland Hawker, the lord of Eagle's Roost on the Stoney Shore. Tall and broad-shouldered, the man seemed to live in his armor. Even though those in the North did not follow the Seven, Lord Hawker could have easily passed for the Warrior made flesh. He was a military man through and through, something his three sons shared as well.
The second man, however, was something of an enigma compared to his peers. Where men like Umber and Karstark preferred to bluster and fight their way out of things, the Lord of the Dreadfort was always ominously calm. Roose Bolton was a pale man who wore dark armor and an odd pink cloak. Whenever he looked at you, his colorless eyes seemed to bore into your soul, like a snake regarding its prey. Combined with his voice, which never rose above a whisper, the man was truly one of the most dangerous men Robb had ever come across. He lived up to the words Theon spoke when they first laid eyes on the man.
'He's a scary fucker.'
"Are you mad?" Glover rumbled. "Assaulting the Twins is suicide."
Karstark spoke up now, adding his own opinion to the debate. "We should head south and deal with Lord Lannister. When the Kingslayer sees his father attacked, he'll come running."
"The Kingslayer wouldn't be that foolish." Hawker countered. "He'll put those in Riverrun to the sword."
As the argument heated up, Robb leaned over to his mother, who was sitting at his right hand. The young lord had been quietly relieved when his mother had decided to stay by his side rather than head back to Winterfell after she returned from the Vale. With her by his side, he felt more confident dealing with the older nobles on his war council.
"Is there any way we can get Frey to open his bridge for us?" Robb asked quietly, leaning over to speak privately with his mother. "Surely there is something the man wants."
Lady Stark frowned. "The man only cares about one thing: marrying off his children. He'll want you, and potentially others, to take a son or daughter to marry" she admitted.
Robb shook his head. "I take it gold won't satisfy him?"
Lady Catelyn shook her head. "He's been stealing money from all who use his bridge for decades. He has no need for gold," she explained. "All he wants is the respect he feels his house has been denied. He believes he can get that by forcing other noble houses to take on his numerous children."
Robb sighed. "Alright," he said, turning his attention back to his commanders, who were still bickering. "Silence, my lords!" He snapped. The northmen instantly fell quiet, waiting for their lord to speak.
"We will treat with Lord Frey," he continued. "My lady mother will act in my name. Whatever Lord Frey decides, I, and only I, will answer for it."
Lord Glover leaned forward. "An honorable decision, my lord, but surely there must be another way. Why not march back towards Moat Cailin and find another way into the Riverlands?"
"Don't be foolish. man," Lady Mormont rumbled. "That would take months. The Neck is treacherous to all but the crannogmen."
"Lady Maege is right," Robb agreed, shaking his head. "Sacrifices must be made in war. My father taught me that and I am willing to do my part as well."
The Greatjon grunted. "Who knows, maybe the old man will have sired a girl with a pretty face."
Robb smiled grimly. "Perhaps, but I do this so that we may have a chance at defeating the Lannisters and saving my father. The longer we stay here, the more time we give the Lannisters."
"Is your mother the best person to go?" Roose asked suddenly.
The room went quiet, all the lords waiting to see how Robb will react to his authority being blatantly challenged. The young stark raised an eyebrow, gazing steadily at the Leech Lord.
"Speak plainly, my lord." Robb all but growled.
"I mean no disrespect to Lady Stark," Roose said, "but the Frey's would see us as weak if we send our lord's lady mother to speak for him."
"My mother grew up in the Riverlands surrounded by her father's bannermen," Robb said evenly. "I trust her judgment. Do you feel differently my lord?"
Roose returned the gaze unwaveringly. "No, my lord," he said, going quiet again.
"Does anyone else have a problem with my lady mother treating with the Freys?" Robb asked, addressing the rest of the council now.
None met his gaze or took up his challenge.
Robb nodded once before looking around at the others in the council. They were all far older than his ten and six name days. But, he was his father's son, he was a Stark, and he was in command. He could not afford to show fear or hesitation. Nothing to show his lords how uncertain he was in himself.
"That will be all for today, my lords and lady. We will meet again when my mother returns from meeting Lord Frey." Robb said.
The northern nobles began to file out, giving small nods and bows to Robb as they left. He had earned their respect, no matter what else he thought. Eddard Stark had earned their trust ten times over, and so far, it seems his son is just as worthy of it.
Soon, all who were left in the tent were Robb and his mother.
"You are making the right decision Robb." Lady Catelyn said gently, watching as her son began to pace around the room. Not for the first time, she was proud of how one so young was handling the demands of war.
"Am I?" Robb asked angrily. "It makes more sense for me to simply march south and deal with Tywin than wait for some sour old man to allow us to use his damn bridge."
Catelyn shook her head. "That is a mistake, Robb. I understand you want to save your father, but we can not allow Ser Jaime to destroy Riverrun. We need my father's bannermen. Especially the Frey's."
Robb nodded. "I know," he sighed.
Catelyn smiled gently, standing up. "I will take Ser Rodrik and meet with Lord Frey in the morning."
"Do you need more guards?" Robb asked.
His mother waved him off. "Lord Frey is more bark than bite," she said easily. "Ser Rodrik will be more than enough protection."
Robb nodded. "Of course, thank you. Be safe, mother."
Catelyn smiled. "Lord Frey will not hurt me. I am quite sure about that."
Line Break
When Robb's mother left, the young lordling sat down and poured himself a cup of wine, looking over the map of the Riverlands. On the map, colored figurines showed where the individual armies were currently placed. There were clusters of red lions around Harrenhal and Riverrun, while Robb's host of white wolves huddled at the Twins.
There was word that some of the riverlords had been resisting lannister incursion into their lands, but they were divided and weak. If Robb wasn't able to cross the Green Fork soon, then the Riverlands and more potential allies were as good as lost.
When he had sent his message to Walder Frey asking for access to his bridge, his mother had sent a rider to the Vale asking for their aid. Given his mother's description of her sister, he did not hold out much hope that there would be any help from the kingdom to the east.
A whine brought Robb out of his brooding. He looked down at Greywind, who had moved to sit beside his master, looking up at him with curious yellow eyes. Not for the first time, Robb was amazed at how quickly his loyal companion was growing. It seemed like only yesterday he had found the dead direwolf and her pups.
Robb smiled and ruffled the wolf's head gently. "I know boy. This is not how I imagined this going either."
When Robb had first called the banners and marched south, he had thoughts of quickly marching towards King's Landing, his noble pursuit supported by the lords of the Riverlands and Vale, where his father was also greatly loved. He imagined riding up to the capitol at the head of a great host and demanding his father back from Joffrey and his bitch of a mother.
Then he would return to the North, putting his family back together and never allowing them to leave Winterfell again.
He never thought that he would actually have to fight a pitched battle or break a siege. Now, it seems like he was in line to do both, since he couldn't continue south, not with both the Kingslayer and Tywin Lannister in the Riverlands. They had to be dealt with, for better or for worse.
"My lord?" A voice asked.
Robb turned in his chair and noticed a soldier sticking his head into the tent. Robb waved him in. The man placed the message he was carrying on the tabletop.
"A rider came from Moat Cailin, carrying a message that came from the Last Hearth. Addressed for you only." the man replied, standing at attention.
Robb nodded. "Thank you."
The soldier bowed and strode out of the tent, leaving Robb alone once more with his wolf.
The young lord eased open the little scroll, holding it close so that he could read it. The message was short and to the point, but it made Robb happier than he could have ever imagined. He looked down at Greywind, who was still looking up at his master.
"Looks like we'll soon be having company."
Of course, the wolf didn't answer. Simply looking at his master with a confused look that made Robb chuckle and stroke the wolf's head as he stood up, grabbing a map from a nearby stack and unrolling it, placing candles on the edges to keep it in place. The North was a vast region and even condensed on a piece of parchment it was still huge.
The young lordling tapped Castle Black and trailed his finger down the Kingsroad. Jon had already sent a message from the Last Hearth. He was likely to stay at Winterfell and Moat Cailin on his way south.
"At least he will get to see Bran again," Robb said, once again talking to Greywind. "Never got to properly say goodbye to him."
Greywind whined and shook his head as he sneezed. Robb chuckled again.
"Jon's coming." He said quietly, unable to stop the massive grin from spreading over his face. "When Two Wolves go south."