The roar and fervor of the wedding night eventually gave way to the biting chill of the Winterfell morning.
When Lynn opened his eyes, the sky was not yet light.
The fire in the hearth had burned down, leaving only a few dim red embers.
Beside him, Arya slept deeply, one hand still tightly gripping his arm, as if afraid he might vanish.
Her face, usually set with a stubborn edge, was now full of peace.
Lynn gently brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead and kissed her there softly.
Arya's eyelashes fluttered, and the corners of her mouth curved up unconsciously.
He didn't wake her. Moving silently, he rose and dressed.
Today, there were even more important things to do.
---
The Great Hall of Winterfell was somber.
The long trestle tables had been cleared away, replaced by a massive map of Westeros spread across the center.
The wolves of the North were no longer the drunken revelers of last night. They were clad in the armor of their houses, longswords at their hips.
Every face bore the gravity of men about to march to war.
Ned Stark stood before the map.
Behind him stood Robb, equally armored.
All eyes were fixed on Lynn.
The wedding last night had cemented him as "one of us" in the eyes of everyone present.
His words now carried weight, perhaps even heavier than Ned's own.
Lynn didn't waste time on pleasantries. He went straight to the point.
"To march south, we must first consolidate our strength."
His gaze swept over each lord.
"Lord Umber."
"Here!"
Greatjon Umber stepped forward, his voice booming like a bell. "Last Hearth can field two thousand men! Every one a warrior who can wrestle a bear!"
"Lady Mormont."
"Bear Island can provide six hundred."
Maege Mormont's voice was steady and strong.
"We have no knights, but every woman on Bear Island knows how to crack a skull with an axe."
Behind her, Lyanna Mormont puffed out her small chest and nodded vigorously, confirming her mother's words.
"Lord Karstark."
Rickard Karstark stroked his thick beard. "Karhold can muster three hundred horse and two thousand foot."
"Lord Manderly."
"Heh heh," Wyman Manderly squeezed out from the crowd, his bulk causing the surrounding lords to instinctively step back.
"White Harbor offers five hundred knights and fifteen hundred men-at-arms."
"Furthermore, the White Harbor fleet stands ready to transport troops and supplies at your command."
His words lifted everyone's spirits.
Naval power was the North's scarcest resource.
Then, the Glovers, Tallharts, and other houses declared their levies.
Finally, all eyes turned to the quiet corner.
"Lord Bolton."
Lynn's voice was calm.
Roose Bolton stepped out of the shadows, his pale face devoid of expression.
"The Dreadfort can provide five hundred horse and three thousand foot."
His voice was soft, yet distinct.
"My natural son, Ramsay, will lead them personally."
Lynn nodded, though inwardly he sneered.
Five hundred horse, three thousand foot.
The Dreadfort was emptying its garrison.
This Lord Bolton was truly "loyal."
"Excellent."
Lynn turned back to the map.
"Counting the strength of Winterfell, we can assemble an army of over twenty thousand men in short order."
"We have the numbers. Now, we need a commander."
Everyone instinctively looked at Ned Stark.
But Ned shook his head and placed a hand on his son's shoulder.
"I am old."
His voice held a hint of self-deprecation.
"This war belongs to the young."
Lynn picked up the thread.
"I may be King-Beyond-the-Wall, but I am not familiar with the Northern armies."
"For this war, we need a commander who knows the North and commands the trust of all."
His gaze landed on Robb Stark.
"I propose that Robb Stark serve as the supreme commander of the southern expedition!"
Greatjon Umber was the first to agree.
"Aye! I second that!"
"Robb is the heir to House Stark. He's learned the art of war at Ned's knee. I'll be the first to follow his command!"
The other lords voiced their agreement.
Robb Stark, the young man who had lived in his father's shadow, stood before everyone for the first time as a leader.
Robb took a deep breath. There was no fear on his young face, only the burning fire of battle.
"Thank you for your trust!"
His voice was loud and firm.
"I, Robb Stark, will not fail the honor of the North!"
He walked to the map, radiating the sharpness and confidence of youth.
"My lords, look here!"
Robb's finger landed on the Kingsroad, the artery cutting north to south.
"My plan is simple and direct."
"We muster our full strength and march south along the Kingsroad at full speed, striking like thunder straight for the Twins!"
"The Freys think we Northmen are slow, lumbering fools. They will never expect us to move so fast!"
"If we can breach the Twins and take Walder Frey's head before the Vale reinforcements arrive..."
"Then the entire crisis in the Riverlands will be solved!"
Robb's voice was passionate and infectious. His plan was crude but bold, filled with the unstoppable momentum of youth.
The Greatjon was fired up. He slapped his thigh.
"Good! That's the way! Straight for the throat! I like it!"
The other lords nodded. The plan seemed feasible and fit the Northern style perfectly.
Just smash them!
Lynn looked at the spirited Robb and smiled approvingly. He added:
"Lord Robb's plan has a high chance of success."
"My men can serve as the vanguard, clearing obstacles for the main host."
With Lynn's endorsement, the plan seemed set in stone.
However, amidst the enthusiastic atmosphere, a flicker of... contempt passed through Roose Bolton's indifferent eyes, unnoticed by anyone.
March the whole army south?
Straight at the Twins?
What a... laughably naive plan.
He admitted the plan's only merit was speed.
But its flaw was fatal.
Pushing twenty thousand men down a single road made them a massive target, their movements restricted.
If the Freys held the Twins and the Vale reinforcements flanked them, the Northern army would be caught between hammer and anvil.
This wasn't war; it was a gamble.
Betting that the Freys were weak, betting that the Vale knights were cripples.
Foolish.
Roose Bolton passed his judgment silently.
But he said nothing.
Like the other lords, he nodded slightly, feigning agreement.
Ned Stark, the old fool, was actually trusting the lives of twenty thousand men to his inexperienced son.
And that Lynn... seemed to be nothing special after all.
Perhaps a mighty warrior, but in strategy, he was just a green boy. Too young to be of use.
Nothing more than this.
Good.
Go ahead.
Take the flower of the North and smash it against the walls of the Twins.
He could already foresee the terrible resentment that would erupt from the families who lost husbands and sons when news of the defeat returned.
And then, he, Roose Bolton, would be the one to pick up the pieces.
"Since there are no objections," Ned Stark concluded.
"We proceed with Robb's plan!"
"Return to your levies, organize your logistics. We assemble outside Winterfell in seven days!"
"Yes, my Lord!"
The lords chorused their assent and dispersed. Soon, only the Starks and Lynn remained in the hall.
Roose Bolton was the last to leave.
As he passed Lynn, he bowed slightly and spoke in his soft whisper.
"Lord Lynn, congratulations on your wedding."
"Thank you."
Lynn wore a warm smile.
Only when Roose Bolton's figure had completely vanished from the doorway did Robb's confident facade collapse.
He let out a long breath, slumped onto the floor, and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"Gods be good... I felt like a mummer on a stage just now."
Robb looked shaken.
"Especially looking into Lord Bolton's eyes. I felt like he could see right through me."
"You acted well. Better than I imagined."
Lynn walked over and nudged his leg.
"He's already itching to send word to his new allies."
Ned Stark looked at the two young foxes with a mix of amusement and pride.
He walked over and smoothed out the map.
"Alright. The madmen and the fools are gone."
Ned's voice dropped low.
"Now, let us discuss the real plan."
The doors to the hall were closed silently. Ned's most loyal guards took up positions outside, ensuring absolute secrecy.
Greatjon Umber, Maege Mormont, and Wyman Manderly were quietly ushered back in by trusted men.
These were House Stark's core allies, crucial to the true plan.
When they entered and saw the grim faces by the map, they were confused.
"Ned, what... what is this?"
The Greatjon was bewildered.
"Isn't the plan already set?"
Lynn smiled and pointed to the Twins on the map.
"Lord Umber, do you really think that plan could take this place?"
The Greatjon wasn't stupid, just blunt. Calming down and thinking about it, he realized something was off.
"It does seem... a bit risky."
He scratched his head.
"Putting all our eggs in one basket. If something goes wrong..."
"Not 'if'. It will go wrong," Lynn said decisively.
"Lysa Arryn and Walder Frey aren't idiots. They dare to do this because they have backing."
"If we march twenty thousand men down the road with fanfare, do you think they won't have spies? Won't be prepared?"
"Then just now..."
Maege Mormont frowned.
"Just now was a performance for certain people."
Lynn's gaze turned icy.
"We need a traitor to deliver a false plan to our enemies."
The three lords understood instantly.
A cold sweat broke out on their backs simultaneously.
Roose Bolton!
The smile vanished from Wyman Manderly's fat face for the first time, replaced by deep apprehension.
They had always felt something was off about House Bolton, but they never imagined Roose would be bold enough to actually betray the North!
"That bastard!"
The Greatjon's fists cracked.
"I'll go twist his head off right now!"
"Don't be rash, Jon," Ned stopped him.
"Killing him now only alerts the enemy."
"Keep him. He has his uses."
All eyes focused on Lynn again.
They knew the real plan would come from him.
Lynn nodded.
"Let's not act on impulse."
"We don't have definitive proof of Bolton's betrayal yet."
"But it's better to be safe than sorry. Prevention is key."
Lynn's finger traced a slow line across the map, outlining a path completely different from before.
"War is the art of deception."
"Robb."
"Here!" Robb stood straight.
"You will lead ten thousand foot soldiers, following the 'false plan' we just discussed. You will march down the Kingsroad with great fanfare."
"Move slowly. Make a lot of noise. Make ten thousand look like twenty thousand!"
"Make everyone believe the main host of the North is with you."
"You are the bait. The most conspicuous bait in the world."
Robb's eyes shone with excitement.
He understood. This was the real test of his ability.
"Lord Manderly."
"Here, Lord Lynn."
The portly Lord of White Harbor answered quickly.
"I need your fleet. But not to transport troops."
Lynn's finger tapped the sea east of White Harbor.
"I need all your merchant ships and war galleys to sail east, disguised as a trade fleet heading to Essos."
"But in reality, under the cover of night, you will sail south along the coast to here."
Lynn's finger landed on an inconspicuous bay on Crackclaw Point.
"Your mission is to blockade the entrance to Blackwater Bay."
"If any fleet from King's Landing tries to sail north to interfere, bottle them up and sink them!"
Lynn was fighting the Vale and Riverlands; he didn't want the Baratheons getting involved.
Wyman Manderly's eyes lit up.
Low risk, high reward, and a chance to strike at the southern merchants who competed with him? It was perfect.
"And as for us..."
Lynn's finger started at Winterfell, traced a strange arc bypassing the Twins, and went where no one expected.
"The remaining five thousand elite cavalry, including my Free Folk warriors, will be led by myself and Lord Ned."
"We will not take the Kingsroad. We will cross the Neck."
"The Neck?!" The Greatjon gasped.
"That place is nothing but bog and poison! An army can't pass!"
"Normally, an army cannot."
Lynn smiled.
"But with crannogmen to guide us, we can."
Ned nodded, confirming Lynn.
His friend Howland Reed of Greywater Watch was the master of the Neck.
And Lynn hadn't even mentioned his ace in the hole.
Ice magic. He could freeze the bogs.
No sane person would expect an army to march through the swamps; it was suicide. The bog usually swallowed armies whole before battle even joined.
"Our target is not the Twins."
A wolfish glint flashed in Lynn's eyes.
"When everyone is watching Robb's bait army and the fires at the Twins, our cavalry will strike from behind, straight into the heart of the Vale!"
His finger landed heavily on a spot on the map that shocked everyone.
The Eyrie!
"Lysa Arryn thinks she is safe behind the impregnable Bloody Gate and the Moon?"
"She has sent the Vale's best knights to aid the Freys. Her nest is empty."
"We don't want her castle. We don't want her lands."
Lynn's lips curled into a cruel smile.
"I have intelligence that Robert Arryn has been secretly moved back to the Eyrie by Lysa."
Of course, this was courtesy of his greensight—essentially a map hack. Lynn wasn't going to waste it.
"I only want her only son, Sweetrobin."
"Once we have that sickly boy, the entire Vale is our hostage."
"When that happens, do you think the Vale knights fighting in the Riverlands will continue to die for Lysa? Or will they drop their swords and run home to save their little lord?"
Dead silence in the hall.
Greatjon, Maege, and Wyman stared at Lynn, stunned by the sheer insanity and brilliance of the route on the map.
Their brains struggled to catch up.
A feint to the east, a sneak attack in the west, besieging Wei to rescue Zhao...
They didn't know the idioms, but they recognized the genius.
The public plan hits the Riverlands, but the real strike takes the impregnable Eyrie?
No one would expect this!
At first, they doubted. But then they remembered Lynn's dragon. Realization dawned on their faces.
No wonder Lynn was so confident.
Natural defenses were a joke to a dragon. They had seen the terror of "Winter" yesterday. They had faith in the beast.
How did this young man come up with a plan so... so vicious, yet so perfect?
Kidnapping Robert Arryn was exactly like when Catelyn took Tyrion—it changed the game instantly. The Vale would lose its will to fight!
The look they gave Lynn shifted from admiration to sheer terror.
Being enemies with this man was a nightmare.
Thank the gods he was one of them.
Ned Stark looked at Lynn, his heart equally turbulent.
He knew Lynn was clever, but he hadn't realized his wisdom bordered on the monstrous.