Chapter 291: Meeting the Northern Lords

Chapter 291: Meeting the Northern LordsThe Northern army marched through the Crossing, a force of over 30,000 men accompanied by endless supplies. The sky above was gray and heavy with clouds. As soon as they crossed into the North, snow and ice blanketed the landscape. The army, clad predominantly in black, stood out starkly against the frozen terrain.

Some of the Lords marched alongside their men, while others rode ahead, deep in conversation with their peers. Among those summoned by Robert to "support the King," there were two forces that never even reached the walls of King’s Landing. One was Dorne, which had little interest in joining the conflict from the outset and received orders to turn back almost as soon as they crossed Bitterbridge. The other was the northern army, led by "The Greatjon," Lord of the Last Hearth, Jon Umber.

Jon Umber, clearly displeased, rode alongside Rickard Karstark, Lord of Karhold. He grumbled, "Gods! I’ve done nothing for months but march back and forth between the North and the South. If we return any later, there won’t even be any grain left to harvest!"

Though vast, the North was not rich in resources, and its Lords were accustomed to meticulous planning. But this time, because the order came from Ned Stark himself, no one dared hold back. Unlike in the original war, when Robb Stark only mustered around 20,000 men, this time the North had brought all of its strength to war.

Rickard Karstark smirked slightly at Jon Umber's complaint. "What? Do you still want to taste dragonfire?" he asked, somewhat relieved despite his worries.

House Karstark, bound by blood and loyalty, had followed the Starks in both the War of the Five Kings in the original story and also participate in the Rebellion against the Usurper. Now, Rickard feared for his house’s survival under the wrath of the Dragonlord.

News had reached him from the Blackwater Rush—Viserys had burned almost all of Westeros’s warships with his three dragons. The Seven Kingdoms—or rather, the five northern ones—wouldn’t be able to launch any kind of offensive against Viserys in the foreseeable future.

Rickard had heard the dragons were growing quickly, and he couldn’t help but wonder what they would become in a few years.

Returning to the North now felt like waiting for death.

"Isn't there something Torrhen didn't do that we should?" Rickard mused, his thoughts drifting back three hundred years to when Aegon the Conqueror invaded the North.

At that time, the Northern lords had been ready to follow their last King in the North, Torrhen Stark, into battle against the Dragonlord. But when Torrhen saw Balerion the Black Dread, he made a different choice. Instead of leading his people to certain doom, he took off his crown and bent the knee, preserving the North from the dragon's flames.

Though Torrhen’s decision spared his people, it left the Northern lords uneasy, especially now, after their involvement with Robert. Some still questioned whether that path of submission had been the right one. Others, however, saw new opportunities in the chaos that came with Viserys's return.

Among those who harbored different ambitions was Roose Bolton, Lord of the Dreadfort. Roose, ever calculating, had already begun formulating a plan. He had heard rumors that Viserys would attack Westeros within a year, and he knew that even if the Dragonlord purged most of the Northern nobility, the North would still need to be ruled by someone.

If Roose could offer his loyalty early, perhaps he could secure Viserys’s mercy. He didn’t need to aim as high as ruling the North outright—simply preserving House Bolton would be enough. With this in mind, he had quietly started making plans to send emissaries to Tyrosh to establish contact with Viserys. The Boltons were biding their time, poised to become one of the leading houses in the North. seaʀᴄh thё nôvel_Fire.ηet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Meanwhile, the burden of leadership had fallen heavily on Robb Stark, Ned’s eldest son and heir. For the first time, Robb experienced the immense difficulty of commanding such a large army—while his father was still alive, no less. The unruly Northern lords did not yet respect Robb as they did his father, and without Ned’s authority, Robb couldn’t impose punishments or assert himself fully. His task was made all the more difficult by this lack of deference.

At least he had his parents by his side. In the privacy of a carriage, Robb discussed with his mother, Catelyn, the recent developments at King’s Landing. Robb had been present when Viserys extended an olive branch to the Starks. The terms were undeniably generous—Viserys had promised not only that House Stark would continue to rule the North but also that he would see Bran healed.

Though Viserys hadn’t mentioned the punishment for rebellion, the mere offer to let the Starks retain control of the North was tempting. It seemed easy enough to accept. Yet the problem lay in the family’s divided loyalties. Ned’s relationship with King Robert complicated everything, and Robb knew that choosing to side with Viserys meant betraying Robert. On top of that, his two younger sisters were still in King’s Landing, making the situation even more delicate.

Both father and son were under immense pressure. Torrhen Stark had once been able to weigh the options between war and surrender, but now, Robb and Ned faced a far more complex dilemma—one where loyalty to one king meant treason against another.

"Mother, is Father really going to go to war with the Targaryens?" Robb asked, his voice heavy with concern.

Catelyn sighed, her expression filled with helplessness. "I don’t know, Robb. But I do know he doesn’t want to betray Robert."

She still remembered vividly the moment before she left King’s Landing. She had suggested to Ned that they bring their two daughters back north, but it was the first time since their marriage that Ned had sharply rebuked her. Catelyn understood, though. Ned was caught between his loyalty to King Robert and his duty as Warden of the North—an impossible conflict with no easy choice.

Now, Ned was in King’s Landing, trying to stabilize a crumbling situation.

As mother and son pondered their next move, a sudden commotion erupted outside the carriage, followed by Theon's familiar voice.

"Robb! Lady Catelyn! Come quickly!"

Theon Greyjoy, captain of Robb’s guards, had been taken as a hostage after Balon Greyjoy's failed rebellion. But Ned had never treated him like a hostage. Instead, he had raised him alongside his own children, and over the years, Theon and Robb had grown as close as brothers.

"Robb, Lady Catelyn!" Theon’s voice was full of urgency. "We saw a dragon! It appeared—three dragons!"

The words hit Catelyn and Robb like thunderbolts. Robb instinctively glanced out the carriage window, processing the reality of what Theon had just said. A moment later, he bolted from the carriage, looking toward the sky where Torrhen Karstark pointed.

Under the gloomy clouds, three dragons of different colors circled in the distance. Robb’s breath caught in his throat as his eyes fixed on the largest—a massive yellow dragon. And on its back, he could clearly see a figure.

A man.

Though Robb didn’t know who the rider was, he didn’t need to guess. The person riding the largest yellow dragon could only be one man—Viserys Targaryen.

"Robb, should we shoot him down?" Torrhen Karstark, acting as deputy leader, asked urgently, his voice taut with the tension of the moment.

Torrhen understood all too well what the return of the Targaryens could mean for the North. His instinct was to attack while they had the chance. But before Robb could respond, Catelyn’s voice cut through the air, urgent and pleading.

"No! Don’t!" she shouted, almost frantic.

Though she didn’t know what Viserys might ultimately do to the Starks, she knew one thing—her son Bran’s life depended on the mercy of the man flying overhead.

Turning to Robb, her eyes fierce, she said, "Robb, I need to see him!"