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Chapter 554
🕑 Added 2025-01-29 17:31:31 +0000 UTC“Hold on a moment, my lord!” The old maester, catching on quickly, played the role of the conciliator. His slightly frail voice called out to the black-clad rider, and despite his aged and injured body, he trudged through the snow, visibly struggling as he crossed over ten meters to approach the horseman.
Robb Stark had spent dearly to rally four out of five noble houses gathered at Sevenscastle to march under his banner for the Queen. He had exhausted the authority of his title, owed favors to rivals, depleted Winterfell’s reserves, and even gambled with the marital futures of Rickon and Sansa. He’d bled so much, figuratively speaking, just to achieve this fragile agreement.
Yet now, standing here, he faced another hurdle. Each word he uttered seemed as if it cost him two months’ worth of pay in soldiers’ wages. And this wasn’t even a leak of information that endangered the Gifted Lands army’s security!
The rider, reassured by the weight of the golden dragon coin now tucked into his pouch, softened his stance slightly. “The Lord Commander, the Hand of the Queen, and the Master of Whisperers have all been poisoned. A full investigation is underway inside the castle, and no one is allowed to enter or leave without authorization. Even Lord Robb’s family is not exempt from suspicion.”
In summary, not only was the North in no mood for war, but it had suffered so much from successive conflicts and was mired in defending against the Ironborn that its people yearned for nothing more than peace—a quiet life of hearth and home. Even the promises and incentives that might have worked in other times held no sway over them now.
The black-clad rider turned his horse and began to leave, while Maester Luwin suppressed his growing unease and hurried back to the nobles trailing behind him, relaying what he had just heard. The revelation caused an immediate uproar.
“What do you mean by ‘poisoned’?!” Robb’s face darkened. He didn’t particularly care for any of the three victims, but the real trouble lay in the fact that the prime suspects would undoubtedly be his family—his mother, siblings, and kin.
The old maester hesitated only a moment before pulling out another golden dragon, pushing it into the rider’s hands despite the pain of parting with such wealth. “How could such a thing happen? Isn’t the entire castle under the Lord Commander’s control? None of the ladies in the castle would have had the means—or the gall—to poison anyone! What about the victims? Are they alive?”
The rider hesitated, but the weight of the coin in his pouch clearly swayed him. “The Hand and the Master of Whisperers are dead. As for the Lord Commander… I’ve heard he’s still alive. But if he were truly unharmed, wouldn’t he have made an appearance by now to calm the troops? Instead…” The rider furrowed his brow, realizing he’d said too much and abruptly cut himself off. “In any case, my advice remains the same—keep a cool head and avoid rash actions. I’ll take my leave.”
The nobles, caught in the throes of shock and anger, turned their gazes to Robb. Some suggested daring rescues, while others proposed immediate retaliation. The tension was palpable, but one voice rose above the rest—Lady Barbrey Dustin.
“Fools,” she snapped, her voice cold and sharp. Wrapped in black from head to toe, her figure exuded authority. As one of the few ruling noblewomen, she was not only more commanding but also sharper than most men. “The castle is on high alert after what just happened. Any rash action on our part would be a blatant admission of guilt! What do you think the Queen will conclude if we so much as step out of line now?” She fixed her piercing gaze on Robb. “Lord Stark, I’ll ask you this once: Do you have any way of dealing with the Queen’s dragons?”
Robb hesitated, gripping the reins of his horse tightly as his body trembled. Finally, through gritted teeth, he admitted, “No.”
“Then the answer is clear. We withdraw to our temporary camp. We set up far enough from the castle to avoid provoking the Queen, but close enough to monitor events. We send messengers to explain our peaceful intentions and wait. Anything else will not only fail to save your family but will push them deeper into peril.”
Reluctantly, Robb nodded, knowing the wisdom of her words. The nobles dispersed to prepare for their retreat, though the frustration and unease lingered heavily among them.
Meanwhile, Maester Luwin lingered a moment longer, clutching his own robe tightly. His parting words to Robb rang heavy with the weight of truth. “Pride can be rebuilt. Wealth can be regained. Land can be reclaimed. But once lives are lost, my lord, they can never be returned.”
And so, under Lady Dustin’s guidance, the Northmen pulled back from Winterfell’s imposing walls, retreating to safer ground. Whatever lay within the castle—truth or treachery—they could only wait and hope the storm would pass without dragging them under.
