"The Red Messenger hangs in the sky. Let the Lannisters howl beneath our horses' hooves," the Blackfish said firmly.
"Just so," Greatjon said. "That is the banner of vengeance the old gods have raised for Lord Eddard."
"The Red Messenger still hangs above us, and we will greet peace through war. For the late king, for Lord Eddard, and for all those innocent dead, my brothers will take vengeance on the Lannisters."
"War!"
"War!"
Gendry went on, "My terms for peace are very clear. I want Tywin's head and the Queen Mother's head, and I want the clown in their house driven out. Tell me what you think, Robb."
"My terms for peace..." Robb opened his mouth, then spoke slowly. "First, Cersei returns my sisters, and Sansa's marriage to that bastard Joffrey is dissolved. Second, the bodies of the Northmen are to be sent back to the North. Third, my father's greatsword Ice must be returned to me. Fourth, every debt between the North and the Lannisters is wiped clean."
Gendry nodded. At least Robb was being sensible here. It seemed that so long as a man did not lay hands on a crown, his mind stayed clear enough.
"As part of those peace terms, and as a sign of friendship between stag and wolf, I will gift the North a batch of new weapons and armor. And if the long winter comes, I will send seed and grain to the North in time of famine."
"In that case, I will gather most of the cavalry as the surprise force crossing from the Green Fork to the Red Fork, where I will join my uncle Ser Edmure. Lord Rickard and Lady Maege will lead the Winter Wolves along the Green Fork. A smaller force will remain at the Twins, while more men wait north of the Twins on standby." Robb Stark rose and gave his assent. The Young Wolf had accepted the plan.
"Leave the Green Fork to us," Lord Rickard promised. The Karstarks were all huge men, fierce-faced, with thick beards, hair hanging past their shoulders, and cloaks made from bear, seal, and wolf pelts.
"We must follow the shape of events. Once the momentum is in our hands, if all four sides act together, then Tywin will be a lion without teeth. Robb will take on the task of supporting the Riverlands and harrying the Westerlands. Lord Rickard will lead the Winter Wolves to keep Tywin's main host tied down. All of that is smoke and shadow. As for me, I will cross the Bloody Gate and go straight to the Eyrie," Gendry said. Put simply, momentum meant control of the war, shaping every possible advantage into a situation favorable to yourself.
Robb's original plan had also been to split his forces in two. Lord Roose would use the infantry to mislead and pin down Tywin, while Robb himself would use the northern cavalry as the decisive force to break the deadlock. But now Gendry had refined that thinking with precision. The focus had shifted to prying open the Eyrie and the Vale. The northern lords nodded as well, clearly approving of the plan.
For all the Northmen liked to think of their host as fearless and savage, there was still a great gap between them and the Lannisters in numbers, equipment, and cavalry. Even they could not truly believe they could smash Tywin in a single charge.
Robb had real talent for war, but the North's strength was limited, and he himself was still young. The Stark main line's network of allies had withered badly. He did not even have a trustworthy commander to send to another front. Roose was the only option, and his mind was always full of private calculations, while the Blackfish had been used all this time as a vanguard scout.
"Momentum." Robb turned the word over in his mind, thoughts racing. That was the true secret of war. To be honest, the northern army had marched south simply to break the siege. They had not thought much beyond relieving the Riverlands and demanding their people back from King's Landing. Being crowned king had not been the most foolish decision. The more foolish part had been the legal bind of the Riverlands, poor brothers and suffering brothers huddling together for warmth. From beginning to end, Robb had only ever drawn wolf and fish to his side. The eagle had remained idle the whole time, and the stag had been ruined by wildfire on the river. Once lion and rose became one, Robb had been doomed to collapse. He had grasped the momentum of luring Tywin west into the Westerlands, but through a cruel twist of fate, it had failed.
"The plan is a bold one, but the gains would be just as great. It would secure three of the Seven Kingdoms for us, and the Stormlands would not be able to hold out much longer either. The only danger is that the heir to the Seven Kingdoms is being used as the vanguard. That is a dangerous game," Lord Roose Bolton said thoughtfully. The importance of the Vale could not be questioned. If the alliance remained only trout and direwolf, then it would always be weaker than it ought to be. They had no fleet, and their cavalry was badly lacking, while the Vale had come through the war untouched.
Roose's skin was pale, likely from his habit of bleeding himself with leeches. He was of middling height and not strong-looking, with a face above average in looks and untouched by age, clean-shaven, too. What stood out most were those strangely pale eyes of his, darker than milk, lighter than stone.
"We fear nothing, Lord Roose. In war, speed is precious. The one thing I lack is time, and Lord Tywin lacks time as well. Through unity and alliance, we can seal the Westerlands shut. Across the Narrow Sea, I still have three legions and two great fleets, but all of that takes time. Perhaps the Lyseni have already heard the rumors blowing in from the west, and they too will begin to stir the flames of war. If we can win over the Vale quickly, then we gain the advantage on both the eastern and western fronts." Gendry looked around at the gathered lords, and the firelight made him seem even taller. Three legions and two fleets were his trump cards, but he could not bring them all over. In Westeros, it was still better to draw on the strength of the three northern kingdoms as much as possible.
Lord Roose said no more. The Seven Kingdoms were, after all, a land ruled by martial lords, where knightly ideals and a culture of war flourished. Men trusted fists more readily than brains. Best of all was to have brains, fists, and a face people wanted to follow. When King Robert had risen in rebellion, he too had led from the front. That could only be called a moment of overwhelming fortune.
"That is how a king ought to act," Bronze Yohn said. A king ought to fear nothing. That was a king's way of fighting. "Back then, when Lord Arryn took Gulltown, King Robert was the first over the walls and slew the unlucky Lord Grafton with his own hand."
"To cross the Bloody Gate, is that not too bold a plan?" Lord Jason said. The Mountains of the Moon were steep and difficult, and savage mountain clans plagued the passes.
"More than that, the Bloody Gate is easy to hold and hard to storm. Those wild men are no better than brigands. Even a Great Lord of Arryn, if he entered the mountains without troops, would be plundered," Greatjon said. Rough as he was, even he knew how hard it was to cross the Bloody Gate.
"The Bloody Gate may be difficult to take, but we are not without a chance. So long as we can cross the Mountains of the Moon and reach the Bloody Gate," Bronze Yohn said. The runes on his armor seemed to glimmer faintly. "Lord Blackfish and I both know the current Knight of the Bloody Gate."
"Yes. Ser Donnel Waynwood of House Waynwood, once my second-in-command." The Blackfish nodded. He had already guessed Gendry's thinking. It seemed the task of crossing the Bloody Gate would fall to him.
"And it is not only that Ser Donnel at the Bloody Gate has ties to the Blackfish. House Waynwood itself may also be persuaded, if we can cross the high mountains and reach the Bloody Gate," Bronze Yohn said.
"I agree as well." Robb nodded. He was deeply dissatisfied with Lysa, but the North lacked manpower, let alone the means to make contact with the Vale. Now that he had become a commander in his own right, the military burden on him had eased greatly, and he felt much more at ease.
"Lord Yohn, do you mean the heir Harry?" the Blackfish asked, looking across at Yohn.
Yohn nodded. "Ser Harrold Hardyng is the first heir after Lord Robert. He is also the foster son of Lady Anya Waynwood, and foster brother to Ser Donnel."
Catelyn could not help pleading, "Lysa may well be beyond forgiveness. But Robert Arryn..."
"By the old gods and the new, my lady, no one will lay a hand on the young lord. But for the sake of the Vale, and for the honor of House Arryn and House Tully, we must face the threat Lysa poses," the Blackfish said heavily. "And besides, young Robert's health... you ought to prepare yourself."
Gendry looked at Catelyn. Deep down, Lady Stark was still thinking of peace, still hoping to ransom her girls back. Her heart was in the right place, but war was war.
"Young Robert..." Catelyn thought back to the boy. Lord Robert was small, pale-skinned, with brown hair and large eyes. The Lord of the Vale was only a child who hid in his mother's arms, a sickly and fretful boy. When Catelyn had left the Eyrie, she had suggested to her sister that the child be taken out into the light, or sent north to keep company with her own children, only for Lysa to explode in rage and curse her out.
"The lord's health has always been poor. Lady Lysa miscarried five times before giving birth to her heir. But out of respect for the late Lord Jon, I believe we will do our utmost not to agitate the young lord when we act." Bronze Yohn fell silent after that. In truth, many in the Vale already suspected the boy would not live much longer, much less marry. Quite a few had already begun quietly currying favor with Harry the heir.
Robert Arryn suffered from an illness that could bring on fits at the slightest shock. His maester often bled him and gave him draughts to dull the pain, but if used for too long, the poison would build up and cause side effects. His body and mind were both underdeveloped. He had not even been fully weaned.
"A woman's heart is soft, my lady. Lord Robert may be your kin, but you must think of the soldiers we brought south as well. How many children will never make it home because of this war? This is not a matter for one family. It is a matter for a country, for a kingdom," Rickard said.
"Mother, I understand how you feel. But the Lannisters will not make peace because of our tears. We have to move quickly." Robb looked at Lady Catelyn, signaling for her not to speak further.
Their words left Catelyn feeling wretched, but she could only accept it. Once again, House Stark had become a partner in war. That was what war brought with it.
"Then it is settled. Our divided forces will each have their own role. The army on the Green Fork will disguise itself as the main host and mislead Tywin, while I lead part of the knights across the Mountains of the Moon and through the Bloody Gate." Gendry's gaze swept across the room. "I want the soldiers most familiar with mountain roads, men who can endure hardship. My household knights can do it, naturally, but I expect all of you can give me some help as well."
"I will march with you," Bronze Yohn said, rising to his feet. "Most Vale knights have at least some experience crossing the Mountains of the Moon. When Lord Jon crossed them in the past, he too brought a large number of men."
"Take the knights of Crackclaw Point as well," Ser Boggs said. "The men of Crackclaw are used to rough country too."
And so the plan was settled. All that remained was to carry it out. The eastern road was rougher and more dangerous, climbing over rocky hills and dense forests into the Mountains of the Moon, then passing through steep defiles and sheer-walled chasms before reaching the Vale of Arryn.
"Winter is coming. The North, the Riverlands, even the Seven Kingdoms will remember your deeds. Fight if you can. Withdraw if you cannot. Your main task is to hold Tywin's attention," Gendry said, bowing to Lord Rickard and Lady Maege. If the Winter Wolves marched south, there was a very real chance they would be wiped out.
"Winter is coming. When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives," Robb shouted.
"Winter is coming." Everyone joined in reciting the words. If the longest summer was ending, then the cruelest winter was sure to follow.
"If winter is coming, then there must be old wolves willing to die," Rickard said, thumping his chest.
Sacrifice was etched into the minds of the Northmen. The North was harsh and bitterly cold. To leave enough for their families to survive, some had to give themselves up.
"For the Winter Wolves marching south, I can also provide more fine equipment, plate armor and Myr multi-shot crossbows."
"That would be excellent." Rickard laughed loudly. "Let that bastard Tywin have a look at our well-armed Winter Wolves."
"There is one more matter that needs settling at once, the matter of your uncles Renly and Stannis," Lord Roose put in. "I hear the brothers have been negotiating all this time, though no one knows whether anything has come of it."
"You remind me, Lord Roose," Gendry said. "Perhaps what I need even more is an envoy, someone to go to the heart of the storm and take a look."
"It is just that we truly lack men at present, Prince," Ser Barristan said quietly. "Yohn, Lord Brynden, and I will accompany you into the mountains, and the others will each have their own wars to fight."
"An envoy..." Everyone considered it, but there truly did not seem to be any obvious choice for the role. Respected old knights such as Ser Barristan, the Blackfish, and Bronze Yohn were all going to the Vale, while the lords of Crackclaw Point seemed even less likely to succeed.
"Lord Roose?" Lady Catelyn suggested.
"That will not do," Robb said. "After the Twins, Lord Roose still has to verify supplies and troop strength and prepare the reserve force for us later."
Instead, everyone's gaze settled on Catelyn. Robb's eyes were bright. If they needed someone of high birth, Lady Catelyn was right there. And Renly and Stannis at least both fancied themselves knights.
"I..." Catelyn parted her lips. "My father, Lord Hoster, is gravely ill at Riverrun. I was thinking that perhaps I ought to remain there with him, and speak of such things later."
"My lady, I understand your feelings," the Blackfish said, looking at Catelyn beneath his heavy brows. "To tell the truth, I would like to return to Riverrun as well. But for now, you will have to go to Riverrun in my place and offer him my regards. I am doing this for the future of House Tully."
"When we march, I hope all goes smoothly, Mother. Prince Gendry is bound for the Vale, and Uncle still has to hold the Twins."
"You can rest at Riverrun first, and then go on to the Stormlands."
Catelyn stared, mouth open. She herself was no longer sure what role she was playing in this war. Yet now she had become a highborn envoy once again.