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Grimacing at the carnage surrounding him, Jamie Lannister stood in the middle of the main yard of Raventree Hall as around him the last remaining holdouts loyal to House Blackwood met their end. Either by way of blade or through surrender. Men and women, old and young. It did not matter. If they owed allegiance to House Blackwood, they were given a simple choice. Surrender. Or death. Most of whom were choosing the latter. "A good day, Lord Lannister."
Glancing over his shoulder, Jamie found a smirking Lord Jonos Bracken making his way towards him. The lord's sword was still unsheathed and coated in blood. It was unsurprising to any that House Bracken had been quick to join the Exalted March against the faith of the old gods. Especially as it would inevitably lead to direct conflict with House Blackwood, one of the few southern Houses that still held faith to the old gods. "Where is Lord Tully?"
Walking over to a wounded but still twitching guardsman, or rather guard-boy as Jamie doubted the lad had even needed to shave yet, Jonos calmly pierced the dying boy's heart with his blade. "Still outside the walls. With the reserves."
Picking up a discarded cloak, Jamie began cleaning his valyrian steel blade. How many had he killed today? Ten? Twenty? He honestly couldn't remember at this point. "How many did we lose?"
Jonos paused as he picked up a fallen Blackwood cloak to clean off his own blade. "Hard to tell. Perhaps around five hundred with maybe half that number injured? As backwards and heretical as they were, the Blackwoods were never one to give up without a fight and Raventree was a hard nut to crack as any keep in the South. If not for the blessing of the Seven and Septon Ramsay Rivers, it would've taken us weeks and over twice our losses to bring the Blackwoods to heel."
As much as he wanted to avoid all thoughts of the Septon, Jamie had to give credit to where it was due. Upon arriving at Raventree Hall, Jamie had ordered his men to begin preparations for a siege. That very night at the first strategy meeting, the Septon had requested an audience by stating he had a plan. Despite his own hatred for the man, Jamie could not turn the man away if he had a viable option. His plan was stupidly simplistic. They would set up to siege the main gate of Raventree, drawing all the attention there. Then, during the dead of night, the Septon and twenty other men would scale the back of the keeps walls and wait till morning before throwing open the gates.
The plan had no reason to work. And honestly, the only reason Jamie even gave him the go ahead to try was because he was sure that the Septon would end up getting himself killed in the attempt. But to his surprise, and dismay, come dawn two days later the gates to Raventree Hall were opened just long enough for Jamie to order the rest of their army to charge in. The rest of the battle was a massacre. Despite being heavily outnumbered, the men and women of Raventree Hall were not about to give up their keep without a fight.
'While we've captured Raventree Hall, I almost wish we hadn't,' Jamie thought morosely. 'Now these zealot fools will actually start believing that that vicious cunt is actually blessed by the Seven.'
"Septon Ramsay has requested that all of the heretics that've surrendered be given to him for questioning and a chance for repentance." Jonos spat. "Fucking tree worshipers don't deserve the honor or repentance if you ask me."
Jamie felt a shiver. He had seen personally the results of the Inquisitors idea of 'repentance' when they came across a homestead with an idol of a weirwood after entering Blackwood lands. The entire family had been forced to suffer through having each of their fingers, then their toes, then their arms broken. But even as they shouted their repentance, the Inquisitors just laughed and continued. Saying that they were only repenting with words, not spirit. Their suffering only came to end after every bone in their limbs had been broken, their nails pulled out and their eyes burned. And even then, the only reason it'd come to an end was because Jamie had personally stepped forward and ordered the family put to death immediately. After that one incident, Jamie had made it a point tonevergive anyone over to the Inquisitors again.
"The women will be given the choice to join the Silent Sisters," Jamie commanded. "Men and boys of age will be allowed to join the Black. Should they refuse, then they will be executed by hanging."
Jonos did not look pleased. "These heretics should be questioned, Lord Commander."
Sheathing his sword, Jamie faced off against Lord Jonos. "Raventree Hall is located in the middle of the Riverlands, far from the reach of the Starks and the Sorcerer. The only thing we will learn from putting them to the question is how loud they can scream. No. Give them the offers for the Black or the Silent Sisters, or death."
Jonos growled but knew his place so merely grit his teeth before marching off. No doubt trying to find some more holdouts to bloody. "Find Lord Edmure Tully," he said towards one of the Lannister men behind him. "About time he presents himself to the frontlines, instead of hiding back with the reserves."
It took until night was falling before the last pockets of resistance were finally quelled within the keep. And as the sun was finally setting, Jamie found himself alongside Edmure Tully and Ramsay Rivers standing at the head of the great hall with a bound and kneeling Lord Tytos Blackwood with a grinning Jonos standing behind the fallen lord. Despite being defeated, the Lord of Raventree Hall held his head high, his eyes screaming his defiance. "Lord Tytos Blackwood," Jamie called out, starting the proceedings, which in truth were little more than formality at this point. Everyone knew the fate awaiting the defeated Lord before them. "You stand accused of heresy through your continued faith to the old gods. Of conspiring with the heathen sorcerer of the North and of treason against your true King Joffrey Baratheon, First of His Name. The sentence for any of these is death. But I will grant you the chance to speak should you wish it."
Lord Tytos spat on the floor. "To the hells with that little fucker."
Lord Jonos immediately cuffed the kneeling man on the back of his head with his gauntleted hand. Mind your tongue, Blackwood."
Blackwood just laughed. "Or what? You'll cut out my tongue? I, and all those still here, knew our fates the moment you pathetic fucks marched upon our walls. My only regret is that I will not be there to watch the Starks and the Sorcerer fuck you all over. What do you think, Edmure? Or you, Lannister? They say none are as cursed as a Kingslayer or a Kinslayer. And you two are each. Do you think the Sorcerer will tear out your souls and entrap you in stone for all time? Would be fitting for you two."
Jamie had to swallow hard at the thought, and beside him Edmure Tully visibly curled in on himself slightly. The fate of Lyn Corbray was one that was well known throughout Westeros and perhaps even Essos by this time. But despite the horrific nature of the execution, not once since that time had the Sorcerer employed such brutish methods.
"Do not think your bravado will save you or make your end heroic, Lord Blackwood," Septon Ramsay drawled with that same sick smile the man always seemed to have on his face. "Where are his sons and daughter? Perhaps watching them being placed upon the Breaking Star one at a time will show him the error of his ways."
Jamie's stomach twisted in a knot. The Breaking Star was something he had only heard of whispered by the men. Apparently, it was a punishment the Faith had put forth to deal with heretics. Each limb was to be broken. Then weaved through the beams of a wooden seven-pointed star and then propped up and left to die slowly to either the elements, dehydration, hunger or by succumbing to the pain of their broken bones. And it was not something he wanted to witness.
Lord Tytos though didn't seem scared. The man only laughed. "Do you think me a fool, 'Inquisitor'? I told you. Everyone here knew what awaited us. Even before you lot made camp outside my walls. My family is long gone from here. As are almost all the women and children. You have gained nothing by taking our keep. You have only wasted time, men, and food."
Frowning, Jamie looked pointedly towards Lord Jonos. "Lord Jonos, is what Lord Tytos saying true?"
Jonos frowned. "Yes. The Blackwood spawns are gone."
"What of House Blackwoods coffers?" Lord Edmure asked. "Or their food stuffs?"
Again, Jonos looked uncomfortable. "The coffers are empty. And all the food that was left in their lauders were…burned by the last pockets of resistance in the keep."
Jamie turned his eyes back to the smirking Lord Blackwood. In the end, it looked like the man had gotten the last laugh on them. He knew he was dead. So, he had sent his family away before they arrived, as well as anyone not able to wield a weapon. Then drained his coffers and emptied their lauders. While the siege was not overly costly, they had wasted time, men, and resources to take a keep that, in the end, gave them little to nothing in return.
Ramsay, however, did not seem disappointed. "Well, instead of your family, we shall instead mountyouupon the Seven-Pointed-Star and display you upon your own battlements for all to see."
Jamie's gut clenched. "No, there is no need," he said quickly, resting his hand on his hilt. "Lord Tytos's guilt is unquestionable. I will take his head personally. Take him out into the yard and get a block."
Ramsay, clearly displeased at being denied his sick and twisted pleasures, sulked off into the depths of the castle as Jamie marched outside with Edmure and Jonos while Tytos was guided outside by two Lannister men at arms. The yard outside the main keep was as bad a scene as Jamie had ever seen. Bodies, and what could still be found of some bodies, were being tossed upon a cart as if they were nothing more than refuse to be thrown out. Which in truth, they were as he had ordered a massive grave to be dug outside the walls of the keep to bury the bodies. He might not care enough to give them a proper burial. But he would not leave their corpses out in the open to rot and potentially poison the land or, worse, spread disease amongst his own men as they took the time to reorganize themselves before marching north towards the Twins.
In their path, a few Lannister men had erected a crude block, which was already stained red with the blood of the few holdouts who'd been captured yet refused the Black. Stopping next to the block, Jamie turned around and faced the condemned Lord, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "Lord Tytos Blackwood. You stand guilty of the crimes of heresy and treason against your rightful King, Joffrey Baratheon First of His Name. If you have any last words, say them now."
Despite knowing his end was coming, the strength never left Tytos's eyes. Turning his head, the condemned Lord glared at Edmure Tully, who appeared to be doing all he could not to shrink before the man's hateful glare. "My family will live on and remember this, Tully. As will your own family. The words of House Stark are a reminder and a warning. And the words of the North, of the First Men, have never waned. The North remembers."
Without another word, Lord Tytos stepped away from his two Lannister escorts and knelt before the block. Yet he would not lower his face to the blood and flesh covered block. Deciding not to press the matter, Jamie drew his blade and, with one quick two-handed strike, relieved the Lord of Raventree Hall of his head. "Send word to His Grace that the old gods have lost their footing in the South," Jamie said, wiping away the blood from his blade before sheathing it. "And see to it that Lord Tytos Blackwood is laid with his ancestors beneath the weirwood tree."
Jonos baulked. "Why? This swine deserves to rot under the open sun!"
Jamie glared at the lord. "You will do as I command, Lord Bracken. Have someone see Lord Blackwood laid to rest amongst his ancestors. He deserved that much at least."
Turning his back on Bracken, Jamie came up next to an ashen faced Edmure. "Don't let his words rattle you, Edmure," he said. Which was still strange seeing as how he was basically consoling a grown man his own age.
Edmure shrugged, glancing at him from the corner of his eye. "Easy words for you to utter, Lannister," the Heir of Riverrun muttered, a clear bite to his words. "You are not the one being forced to stand against your own family."
Jamie did nothing to stop Edmure from turning his back on him and walking away. In a way, he was right. Despite the accord that'd been struck with the Tully's in regard to the future of the Starks, in the end they were being forced to raise their own blades against their kin. Which was something that even Jamie did not know if he was truly capable of doing.
Turning away from the retreating Edmure, he motioned for his few remaining men to come forward. "Search the keep from top to bottom. Take anything and everything of value. Food comes first. Then good steel. Then coin. Anything else will be loaded up on carts and sent back to Riverrun for safe holding until a new Lord of Raventree Hall can be named. Then pass the word. We rest here for two nights, then make for the Twins."
"Yes milord," all the men saluted before turning away to see his orders carried out.
Glancing up one more time at Raventree Hall and the imposing branches of the weirwood that outlined the keep, Jamie couldn't help but scoff once more. 'My brother was right. As usual. The gods either don't exist…or, if they do, they are right cunts.'
Standing with her bloodriders and Ser Jorah, Daenerys stared blankly at the seated form of the Good Masters Grazdan mo Ullthor and Kraznys mo Nkloz. Standing beside the two seated Good Masters were several Unsullied along with the slave girl Missandei.
"The Good Master's welcome you back this morning, Lady Daenerys Targaryen," Missandei began, translating for the two Good Masters, though using far more polite words than either man was using. "Good Master Kraznys mo Nkloz wishes your business to be concluded swiftly and asks how many Unsullied you wish to purchase."
Dany didn't answer, instead she let her eyes glance upwards where dozens of child slaves were watching from the rooftops. "All of them."
Missandei hesitated only a heartbeat before translating Dany's words. The two Good Masters both looked surprised before scoffing and shaking their heads. "What is dumb bitch thinking? Does she think just because she has a pair of tits that she can just wave them before us and we will give her what she wants?"
Missandei hesitated. "Do…you wish me to say that, Master?"
Dany had to keep herself still as Kraznys produced a small whip from his side and hit Missandei once across the back. To her credit, Missandei did not show any reaction besides a slight closing of her eyes. "Of course not, you dumb bitch. Ask the dragon whore how she intends to pay for all eight-thousand Unsullied."
Composing herself, Missandei kept her gaze towards Dany, but would not meet her eyes. "The Good Master Kraznys wishes to know how you intend to pay for the eight thousand Unsullied that are ready for sale."
"The ships she has could pay for maybe a hundred. If she's got some gold, maybe another fifty. The Dothraki and other pathetic shits she has following her are not even worth the cost of food to feed them. Though she does have nice tits, so maybe I'll give her ten for her men. Ask the dumb whore how she intends to pay for the remaining seven-thousand-eight hundred and forty."
Again, Missandei relayed Kraznys words, albeit with a much nicer tone and wording. Knowing that she was taking a risk, several, Dany steeled herself and forced herself to press on. "I have a dragon. Plus, three dragon eggs that are not hatched. Butcan be, now that I know what needs to be done."
Missandei's eyes widened fearfully, but she dutifully translated her words exactly to the Good Masters. The reaction of the Good Master's was almost immediate. Both men sat up quickly in their seats, their eyes flickering skywards for a heartbeat in fear before Kraznys met her eyes full on. The first time he had ever really looked her in the eye. She could see the greed in his eyes. And she knew at that moment that she would have her army. "The hatched dragon.Andshe hatches a second for us.Thenshe gets her Unsullied."
Dany waited until Missandei translated before making her counteroffer. "One dragon. And one egg. For all of your Unsullied and those still in training."
Missandei translated her words as fast as they left her, leaving the two Masters to lean over to one another and talk quietly. "Dragon. Two eggs." Kraznys finally said in the common tongue.
"One dragon. And one egg." Dany replied firmly, not backing down.
"Khaleesi," Ser Jorah said quietly as the two Masters leaned into one another again. "You cannot do this. You will win with dragons, not slaves."
Turning her head, Dany fixed her shield with a stern look. "I know what I am doing, Ser Jorah. Stand back."
Ser Jorah frowned and looked like he wanted to press the issue, but wisely instead kept his mouth shut. Turning her attention back to the Masters, she saw that the two men were done conversing. "One dragon. One egg." Kraznys finally agreed.
"Done," Dany replied quickly, drawing a smile from Kraznys.
"Done."
Turning, Dany took a step to leave before stopping and turning back around. Her eyes settled on the translator slave that was standing dutifully next to Kraznys. "I will take you as well. A gift from Master Kraznys for a deal well struck and as a sign of potential future arrangements between myself and Astapor."
Missendai appeared taken aback, but turned towards the Good Masters. "She requests that I be given to her as well. As a gift for a deal well struck and as a sign of future deals between herself and Astapor."
Kraznys looked between Missendai and Dany twice before nodding. "Agreed. Go now. And tell her that we will have all Unsullied ready in five days' time. But should she fail to produce her dragon and egg, the deal will be off, and you will be on the Walk of Punishment."
Missandei paled as she took a step away from the Good Masters and towards her. "The Good Masters agree to gifting myself to you, Lady Daenerys. And they request five days to prepare the Unsullied for the change of ownership."
"Good," Dany nodded, turning on her heel. "Come. I will introduce you to my other handmaidens and instruct you on your future duties from here on."
Standing in one of the many covered walkways that crisscrossed their way across Winterfell providing cover between the buildings that made up the great keep, Jon Stark watched with his brother Bran at his side as the remaining men of Winterfell that had not departed with their brother Robb worked on assembling for their march south. Each day since leaving the Wall with the five-thousand free folk, they had been gathering more and more men, and even some women, on their march south. First was Lord Umber and his men. Then the Karstarks and their men linked up with them on the road with the Glovers, Mormonts, Foresters and even Lady Norfolk joining with them before they reached Winterfell. Their numbers were now well over fifteen thousand, and more were joining with them every day and perhaps another fifteen thousand would join with them as well from the Houses between Winterfell and the Moat. Outside of the winter years, he had never seen Winter Town so full to the point where there was a sea of tents outside the walls of Winterfell. Lord Nox had estimated that by the time they reached the Moat, they would have an army of well over thirty thousand, with perhaps half again that many in camp followers. Nearly fifty thousand Northerners going to war once again to repel an invasion of Andals. Something not even thought of as a possibility since Aegon the Conqueror brought the Seven Kingdoms together.
"Do…Do you have to go, Jon?"
Grimacing, Jon turned to his younger brother. Bran wasn't looking at him, preferring instead to keep his eyes firmly fixed on the mass of men and women beneath them preparing for war. "You know I have to, Bran," Jon said, trying to keep his voice as gentle as possible. "We are Starks. We do not ask of others that which we are unwilling to do ourselves."
He could feel the sadness and despair coming from his brother. "Mother is gone. Rickon is gone. Then you, father, and Robb went south for moons. Then father goes south again and takes Sansa and Arya…Now Robb is going south to war and you are going with him and I…I'm all alone."
Frowning, Jon knelt in front of his young brother. "Bran," he said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You are never alone. We will always be with you. If not in person, then through the Force."
Bran swallowed. "I…I don't know if I can do this…Lead the North while you and Robb are leading a war. What if I make a mistake? What if…?"
"Don't let the 'what if's' weigh you down, Bran," Jon said gently, but firmly. "You are a Stark and as strong as any of us. Don't forget what father has taught us. A good ruler is not one who thinks they know everything or only make correct decisions. A good ruler is one who acknowledges that they do not know everything. Therefore, they listen to the advice of those more knowledgeable than them. Ser Rodrik will be staying with you, as will Maester Luwin. Listen to them as father has done for years. And you will be just as good a leader of the North as father and Robb."
Bran nodded, but still seemed apprehensive. "I'm…scared, Jon. Scared that you…all of you…will go south and–and none of you will come back."
"I'm scared too, Bran," Jon replied, drawing a look from his brother. "We're going to war. To kill those who are coming to try and kill us. Even despite the Force being with us, the only thing certain about the future is uncertainty. But remember. Bravery isn't about being fearless. Bravery is feeling fear but acting despite it. Trust in me, brother. Trust in our sisters and our brother and our father. We will come back. And if we don't. Then one day we will meet each other again either amongst the gods or within the Force."
Bran lunged forward and wrapped his small arms around Jon's shoulders. Returning the hug, Jon held his brother for several long moments before separating. "Come. We are leaving soon. And as acting Lord of Winterfell, you will be expected to see us off."
Bran nodded, and together the two navigated through the corridors and passageways of Winterfell until they arrived in the main yard. Eyes moving towards the front of the column forming in the courtyard, Jon's eyes immediately fell upon Ygritte. Before they had departed for the Wall, he had commissioned a set of armor from Gendry and Mikken for her, despite her telling him before that she did not want to be encumbered by steel. But Jon, after working with Gendry and Mikken, had designed a set of armor that still gave her full range of mobility, yet would provide her with as much protection as possible. Her shoulders and arms were left exposed, with only bracers for protection. And the chest piece was a scaled plate armor that was well sculpted to her body. Not an easy feat as he had to basically bring one of her few dresses to the two blacksmiths in order to properly get her size. Her legs were without any metal protection, save for her boots which went up to just below her knees and were made of strips of metal. And while the armor might not look overly protective, it was made by Gendry and imbued with the Force. Which made it far, far stronger than it appeared. And it still allowed her full mobility.
While she had been adamant that she didn't want to be encumbered by the steel, after wearing it now for a full day, she was starting to look quite comfortable in it. "I see you're finally adjusting to the armor."
Ygritte grunted. "Aye. I guess it's not as…bad as I thought it would be. Gendry and Mikken know what they are doing."
"That they do," Jon nodded, looking down and glancing at his own armor. A set Robb had commissioned for him before leaving for Moat Cailin.
Boiled leather covered with Force-imbued Northern steel plates that covered his chest and various joints. It wasn't full plate armor, as the different pieces were all disconnected from one another to prevent hindering his movements. But it would still provide him with a great deal of protection. Though he would still have to be mindful of a blade or arrow slipping in between the separated plates.
Just as he was about to comment further on their armor, a chill passed over him and the rest of the yard. Men and women, hardened by winter, age, and battle, all went still and turned. Marching from the Sorcerer's Tower was none other than Lord Nox. Only, that was not who he was now. Gone was Jon's long-term mentor. His father's advisor. The man marching into the yard, wearing the same black spiked armor and black cloth as he did when Jon first met him in the wolfswood all those years ago was Darth Nox. His dark red and black mask firmly affixed to his face. 'To be recognized as a Darth amongst the Sith is to be recognized as death itself,' he remembered his Master telling him years ago when he asked what it meant to be a Darth.
Only twice before had he ever felt this…cold. This fear while in the presence of his Master. The first being when his father took him to quell the Greyjoy Rebellion. And the second was just after the attempted coup at his Master's wedding. The horses began nervously neighing and shuffling their feet. While the men and women, even those who'd been in his presence before, parted to give Lord Nox a wide birth as he walked straight for Jon and Ygritte at the head of the column.
"Master," Jon said, inclining his head as Lord Nox approached him.
His Master's masked face turned first to Jon, then to Bran. His Master didn't kneel, hells the man didn't even kneel to the King, he merely nodded his acknowledgement. "Bran Stark. Do not doubt your powers. Trust yourself. Trust those around you to advise you well. And I will do all I can to bring your father, brothers, and sisters home to you."
Bran swallowed as he nodded back. "Thank you, Lord Nox. On behalf of House Stark and the North. May the old gods, and the Force, be with all of you as you march forth to repel those who seek to end our way of life."
Lord Nox nodded and with a flourish vaulted up into his saddle. Giving his brother one last nod and a reassuring smile, Jon aided Ygritte up onto her own horse before getting up on his own. Without another look back, Lord Nox urged his horse forward and towards the gates of Winterfell.
Standing on the docks of the outer harbor of White Harbor, Ser Wendel Manderly watched with a careful eye as piles and piles of foodstuffs from the sea were meticulously prepped before being loaded on to the long wagon train that stretched nearly the full length of the outer and inner harbor docks. The past moon had not been kind to House Manderly. Not that they were suffering. No, far from it. No, their hardship came from that pathetic, idiotic boy-king who was currently polishing the Iron Throne with his ass. Due to House Manderly originally hailing from the Reach, their House was perhaps one of the few, now perhaps only thanks to the Whitehills stupidity, that still held some semblance of reverence to the Seven-Who-Are-One.
Them holding faith to the new gods, as well as being perhaps being one of the youngest Houses in the North, meant that they constantly needed to remind other Northern Houses why they deserved their place amongst the North. All children of House Manderly practiced both faiths. In the last few generations, the Faith of the Seven had even begun to wane. And now, after centuries of relative religious peace, the idiot boy-King had declared a war against the old gods of the North.
Of course, his father could not simply sit and wait before once again proving his faith to the people of the North and the Starks. The same day they learned of the Exalted March, his father had called upon the Septons and Septas of White Harbor and had them all loaded up onto a ship heading south to Gulltown, and none too soon. For the very next day, word of what had been declared somehow reached the masses, and the Sept of White Harbor had been raided and vandalized. Which of course forced his father's hand once again. Thankfully no one was killed in the mild riot. But several hands had been taken and five were soon destined for the Black. The riot was settled when his father made a public appearance, formally forsaking the Seven-Who-Are-One and re-swearing his allegiance to the North, the old gods, and the Starks to all that would hear his oath.
Now, White Harbor and House Manderly were off to war. And they were behind. Word had reached them that not only had Lord Robb Stark reached Moat Cailin, but that he had already repelled the first wave of the Exalted March despite having less than half the numbers of the attackers. Now, House Manderly was under even more strain to show their support to the North. The war had already started, and they were not even on the frontline. While most of the Houses of the North were absent, their presences would be the one that was noted the most out of all the others.
So now, here he was. Overseeing the loading of food stuffs that would be needed for the war effort while his elder brother mustered the men at arms. His nieces, Wynafryd and Wylla, worked tirelessly to sew banners or clothes for the men that would be marching south.
Just as he was about to step forward to address an issue he'd noticed with one of the wagons, the harbor bell started ringing loudly. Turning his head, he squinted out into the Bite. Grabbing the far-eye that was at his waist, he extended the device and held it up to his eye. Almost immediately, he spotted over a dozen ships and more behind sailing northwards through the rough waters of the Bite heading straight towards them.
His first thought was that the boy-King had sent an additional force by sea, which would have been wise. But just as he was about to start yelling out calls for arms, he noticed one of the sails. Orange sails, with a distinctive golden sigil adorning it.
His mind raced as he recognized the sails. Thoughts of ringing the bells of the harbor were dismissed as a smile came to his face. "You there," he said, motioning to one of the men sworn to his house. "Run to my father and brother as fast as you can. Inform them that allies of the North have arrived."
The man nodded before turning and running as fast as he could in heavy armor. Checking himself over to make sure he was presentable; he made his way out onto the docks proper while motioning for the guiding skiffs to lead the foremost ship towards the dock he was on.
He didn't have to wait long as the lead ship separated itself from the rest of the small fleet, its sail folding in as oars were extended the closer it drew to the dock. Upon reaching him, ropes were thrown from the ship to the waiting dock hands and a heavy gangplank was lowered from the ship. The first one off the ship was a man atop a fine black steed, red armor adorning both the man and beast, and a valyrian steel spear at the ready. "Prince Oberyn Martell," Ser Wendel called out in greeting, making his way over to the legendary Red Viper and known friend of House Stark and House Nox.
The infamous prince smirked down at him from his place atop his steed. "Ser Wendel Manderly," Prince Oberyn returned the greeting, still not dismounting from his horse who was slowly walking down the length of the dock towards him as dozens of men-at arms began disembarking from the ship and forming a protective line. "I'm glad to see that you Northerners haven't started to have your fun without us to back you in this farce of a campaign."
Wendel smirked. "Indeed, Prince Oberyn. Though the first assault has already reached the North. Some of the more idiotic Southerners rushed ahead of the main force. Right into the walls of Moat Cailin, which had been reinforced by Lord Robb Stark's advanced force. The attackers were killed to the man."
Prince Oberyn frowned. "Fools. What word is there of the Exalted March's main force?"
Wendel kept his head high and eyes on the Prince as he spoke. "Last word we had was that they were currently laying siege to Riverrun and that Tywin had recently joined the siege with a significant number of his own bannermen. We do not know the result of the siege however."
The Prince of Dorne grinned widely. "Excellent, then we have not missed our opportunity. When are your men planning on departing for the Moat, Ser Wendel?"
"At first light on the morrow," Wendel answered immediately. "We are currently loading the last of our food stuffs and supplies for the men. My brother and father are overseeing the last of the armoring of our men and plan on taking one last night of rest before pressing hard for the Moat."
"Then we will find lodging for our men and ourselves outside your walls for the night and join you in your march on the morrow," Wendel was surprised to hear the higher pitched voice that it took him a moment to realize that it wasn't Prince Oberyn who'd spoke. Turning his head, he found a second figure, this one just as recognizable as the famous Red Viper of Dorne, though for very different reasons. "Princess Arianne," he greeted the heir of Dorne and betroth of Jon Stark. "Forgive the informal matter of our greeting, we were not expecting either your, or your uncle's arrival."
The Princess waved off his concerns. "There is no offense, Ser Wendel. We did not inform any of our intentions as Dorne is still mustering its forces and do not want our enemies to know of our plans. In fact, right now neither I nor my uncle nor my cousins are even here. My family, save my father and brothers, decided to visit my mother with a decent personal guard. A fact that was shared quiet openly and loudly to all ears willing to hear it."
The meaning behind her words was not lost to him. Dorne was preparing for war, albeit quietly as technically the Exalted March was only concerned with the North. And by the time the rest of the realm realized it, their forces would be committed northwards leaving them partially open to attacks from the south. "I understand, Princess," Wendel nodded, grinning. "We will see to it that you and yours are well incorporated into the men and women of the North. None shall even know you are with us until you have the chance to unleash your spears on Tywin-fucking-Lannister."