As Karlon was reviewing maps and strategic plans in his study, Maester Luwin entered the room. The maester's gaze was curious and cautious as he spoke, "My lord, there are rumors circulating about your plans and actions. Some say you are orchestrating changes that will reshape the North."
Karlon looked up from the maps, his violet eyes meeting Maester Luwin's. "Rumors have a way of spreading, Maester Luwin. What matters is the truth behind them. The North's future is my concern, and I will do whatever it takes to ensure its prosperity and security."
The maester nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Your dedication is admirable, my lord. But remember, change can be met with resistance. Some may question your methods and intentions."
"I am well aware of that, Maester Luwin," Karlon replied. "Change is never easy, but it is necessary. The North must evolve and adapt to the challenges that lie ahead."
Maester Luwin's gaze softened, and he offered a faint smile. "Very well, my lord. I trust in your judgment and your commitment to the North's best interests."
Times etched on and it was soon time for supper, Karlon proceeded on to the dining hall and found his family seated. He went and sat in his seat as they all discussed the intricacies of their day.
As they were discussing what was going on Maester Luwin burst into the room. "Sorry for the interruptions my liege but i bring grave news," he said.
" What is wrong out with it, " I said looking up at him as we all stopped and gave him our attention.
" The Greyjoys are attacking our western coasts, bear island have managed to repel them but they say they might attack," Maester Luwin replied. My uncle stood up and told him to raise the banners all vassals should meet at white harbor.
" Uncle, we should not send all forces we have grown our armies, three quarter should remain to guard the north while we go with the numbers we had after the rebellion." I informed him. He looked at me torn contemplating my decision. " All great houses will bring less to ensure they guard their territory, and also if conflict ever arises they are not the weaker house. We are only fielding the amount we had in the last war." I informed him.
" Fine, maester Luwin do as he says. Inform the lords to each field the number they had during the last war and meet at white harbor to plan." he said to him. Luwin headed off to inform the lords as we prepared to march at first light.
The dining hall grew quiet as the servants cleared the plates, leaving only the crackle of the hearth and the heavy silence between Karlon and his uncle. The older man turned to him, his face a map of worry lines.
" Uncle i'll be going with you to fight as I am the Lord of the North." you said looking at your uncle. He looks worried and at the same time furious for what you are saying.
"You will remain here, Karlon," his uncle stated, his voice brokering no argument. "As Regent, it is my duty to lead the spears. You are the blood of the North, the future if i fall. Winterfell must have a Stark, and you must remain safe within these walls while we deal with the squids."
Karlon didn't flinch. He leaned forward, the firelight catching the violet of his eyes, a gaze that felt far older than his years."If I stay, Uncle, I am not a Lord, I am a prisoner of my own heritage," Karlon said firmly. "You speak of the future, but the future is forged in the Salt and Rock of the Iron Islands. If the Mormonts' and the Tallharts' are bleeding on the western shores, they need to see their Lord's banner not just his Regent's."
His uncle slammed a fist on the table. "It is too dangerous! The Greyjoys are savages. They don't fight with honor."
"Which is exactly why I must be there," Karlon countered, his voice dropping to a calm, steel-like edge. "The North is changing. You've seen the way I've trained the new levies. You've seen the maps. If I am to lead these men through the challenges I know are coming, I cannot be a boy who hides behind the Maester's robes while his people died. I need to see the enemy, and more importantly, the Lords of the North need to see me."
He stood up, looking down at his uncle. "I do not have a Valyrian steel blade like Ice to command respect by name alone. I must earn it with a common sword and uncommon results. I am going, Uncle. If not as your Lord, then as a soldier in the vanguard."
His uncle stared at him for a long moment, searching Karlon's face for any hint of hesitation. Finding none, he let out a long, defeated sigh. "You have your father's stubbornness and a fire I don't recognize. Very well. But you stay close to the Greatjon. If a single hair on your head is harmed, I'll have the head of every man in your guard."
Karlon nodded, a grim smile touching his lips. "Inform Maester Luwin to prepare my armor. We march for White Harbor at dawn."As he turned to leave, Karlon's mind wasn't on the defense but was on the counter-attack. The Ironborn held treasures taken from a hundred raids. Somewhere in the wreckage of the coming war, he would find a blade worthy of a Lord of the North.
Karlon was alone in his solar, the heavy stone walls muffling the sounds of a castle preparing for war. He was packing a small travel satchel with dried venison, a sharpening stone, and extra laces for his boiled leather brigandine. Despite his ten years, his hands moved with a calculated precision.
The door creaked open. Robb and Jon stepped inside, their faces illuminated by the flickering hearth. They stood side-by-side, identical expressions of stubbornness on their faces.
"The stableboy says your horse is being saddled for the vanguard," Robb began, his voice thick with a mix of jealousy and fear. "You can't go, Karlon. Uncle is the Regent—he should go. You're only ten."
"We're all ten," Jon corrected quietly, though his eyes were fixed on the steel spaulders lying on Karlon's bed. "If he's old enough to go, we're old enough to follow. We came to tell you we're coming with you. We'll squire for you, or the Greatjon, or anyone. But we won't stay here."
Karlon stopped packing. He turned to face them, the firelight catching the strange, haunting violet of his eyes. Even though they were the same age, Karlon's recent growth spurt and the way he carried himself made the room feel smaller.
"I didn't ask to go because I wanted adventure," Karlon said, his voice level and cool. "I'm going because the North cannot be led by a ghost. If the Ironborn see only a Regent, they see a house in decline. They need to see a Stark."
"Then let them see three!" Robb argued, stepping forward. "The Greyjoys will think twice if they see the whole pack is coming for them."
"No," Karlon said, his tone shifting from peer to Lord. "Think for a moment. Look at who is left in this castle. Sansa is four. Arya is barely out of her swaddling clothes. And Bran..." He gestured toward the nursery down the hall. "He's an infant."
He walked over to his cousins and placed his hands on their shoulders. "The Ironborn are not like the lords of the south. They don't fight for land; they fight to break things. If their longships slip past the Stony Shore, they will look for the softest targets. If I go, and Uncle goes, and you two go—who is here to draw a sword for Lady Catelyn? Who ensures that Sansa and Arya aren't taken as salt wives?"
Robb winced at the word, the reality of the threat finally piercing through his desire for glory.
"I am entrusting you with the North's most precious treasure," Karlon continued, looking directly at Jon. "The men in the garrison are good, but they need a Stark to tell them to hold the line. Jon, you are the best shot with a bow in this castle. Robb, you know these walls better than the masons who built them. If the worst happens, you are the last defense."
He tightened his grip on their shoulders. "I am going to the islands to ensure the war ends there. You stay here to ensure that if the war comes to us, it ends at our gates. Can you do that? Can you protect our sisters and our aunt?"
The silence in the room stretched out, heavy with the weight of the responsibility Karlon had just thrust upon them. It wasn't an insult; it was a commission.
"I'll keep watch from the Broken Tower every day," Robb finally whispered. "Nothing gets through the gate."
Jon nodded slowly, his eyes meeting Karlon's with a new kind of understanding. "And if they try, they'll have to get through us first."
"Good," Karlon said, turning back to his bag. "Now go. I march at first light, and I want you both at the gate. No long faces. Let the men see that Winterfell is in strong hands."