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Chapter Twenty-Eight: Silence before the Storm
Wyman Manderly sat in the war room of New Castle, his thick fingers drumming against the heavy oak table as he listened to the grim reports. The chamber was filled with hardened men, commanders who had seen war before, but none of them could ignore the dire situation they faced.
Across from him, Lord Eddard Stark sat, his face as still as the Weeping Wall in winter. His calmness in the face of such overwhelming odds was unnerving, yet strangely reassuring.
To Wyman's right sat his sons, Wylis and Wendel, their expressions hardened in determination. Ser Marlon Manderly, commander of White Harbor's garrison, leaned over a map of the city and harbor, his brows furrowed. Beside him, Ser Walder—now famed as the Hammer of the North—stood with his arms crossed, silent but attentive. Jory Cassel, loyal as ever, was at Ned's side.
And watching, absorbing every word, was Robb Stark, his blue eyes sharp with the weight of responsibility.
Ser Marlon delivered the first grim truth.
"We have about 1,200 men to defend the city," he said, his voice level but tense. "Most of our garrison is at sea protecting the trade ships. From the reports we've gathered, Euron Greyjoy's fleet numbers at least 4,500 men."
Silence followed.
The odds were nearly four to one.
Wyman's stomach churned, but he forced himself to keep his composure. "I have sent ravens and riders, but reinforcements are at best a day away. At worst, several."
"We cannot count on them," Ned said simply.
Wyman nodded. "No, we cannot."
He had seen his fair share of battles, but this was different. White Harbor had not faced a direct attack in generations.
"The pirates must have sailed through the night," Wyman continued, "hoping to catch us unaware early in the morning. But the winds did not favor them."
Ned's grey eyes sharpened. "Then the enemy must be exhausted from their journey."
It was a simple statement, but Wyman understood what he was saying.
They had an advantage.
Before anyone could respond, the chamber doors opened.
Jon Snow stepped inside.
Wyman felt a rush of conflicting emotions at the sight of the boy.
Part of him still couldn't believe that Lady Catelyn and Sansa Stark had nearly been taken in his city.
But he would never forget the sight of Jon Snow returning to New Castle after cutting down the men responsible.
Flanked by two direwolves, their snouts still bloody, Jon had led Jory Cassel and a group of Manderly men through the gates. They had dealt with the attackers hiding within the city walls with a ruthless efficiency that had shaken even Wyman.
Jon had saved the Stark women.
And now, here he was again, bringing them another truth.
"I got the prisoners to talk," Jon said, his voice steady. "About sixty pirates entered the city in disguise and have been hiding here for a week. Their task was to take us by surprise when the main fleet arrived, creating chaos and opening the Seal Gate."
A murmur ran through the room.
"The Seal Gate?" Wyman repeated, his blood running cold.
Jon nodded. "They plan to burn our fleet, sack the city, and worse—capture our people to sell them into slavery."
The chamber erupted into angry voices.
Wylis slammed his fist onto the table. Wendel muttered a curse. Ser Marlon's jaw tightened in disgust.
Slavery.
No northman would ever tolerate such a fate.
Wyman looked at Ned and saw the fire in his eyes.
The Lord of Winterfell was silent, but it was the kind of silence that came before a storm.
Finally, Ned turned to Robb. "How would you deal with this?"
Robb straightened, his jaw set. "We abandon the fleet and defend the city."
Wyman raised an eyebrow, but he remained silent, waiting for the boy to explain.
Robb continued, his voice steady. "Most of our fleet is not even here. Fighting on the water to protect ships we cannot protect is exactly what the enemy wants. The ships can be rebuilt, but not our men."
He gestured to the map. "The pirates know how to steal on the sea. But how many of them have experience in siege warfare?"
A thoughtful silence followed.
Ned gave Robb a long look, then turned to Jon. "And you?"
Jon met his father's gaze without hesitation. "Robb is right. The only way Euron and his fleet could take White Harbor was through deceit." His voice darkened. "But they got greedy when they tried to take Lady Catelyn and Sansa."
He gestured toward the harbor. "They are expecting the gates to open. We can use that against them by focusing our archers on the Seal Gate. When the enemy rushes in, a lot of them will be trapped in the bottleneck and shot down before they even reach the city."
Wyman looked at the two boys, his mind turning over their words.
Robb had the mind of a commander. He was thinking of the long game, of what was truly worth protecting.
And Jon—Jon had the instincts of a hunter. He saw the battlefield like a living thing, like prey to be lured into a trap.
Wyman found himself glancing at Ned.
How in the seven hells did Ned raise such sons?
Ned nodded once. "We hold the city."
A decision had been made.
Men were sent to prepare. The city's gates were reinforced. The people were ushered into hiding behind White Harbor's thick walls.
Ser Marlon took command of the defenses along the battlements, placing archers along the walls and focusing them on the Seal Gate.
Ned and Ser Walder positioned themselves at the main gate with the strongest warriors, ready for the inevitable breach.
Wylis and Wendel organized what remained of White Harbor's fleet, not to fight the pirates at sea, but to use the ships as floating barricades—blocking the harbor so that if the enemy wanted to land, they would have to funnel themselves through one entry point.
Jory and Robb took command of the ground forces, ensuring that should the pirates get past the initial onslaught, they would meet a wall of Northmen armed and ready.
Jon positioned himself at the Seal Gate.
He had taken a bow this time, a weirwood bow that no ordinary man could draw. Ghost stood beside him, his red eyes glowing against the sunlight.
The wind carried the distant sound of drums.
The enemy was approaching.
Wyman took a deep breath and steeled himself.
The battle for White Harbor had begun.