In front of the Stark tent, the two young warriors drew their swords, but someone quickly stepped forward to stop them.
It was Catelyn, deeply worried for her eldest son, who was not yet sixteen.
"Two brave souls," she said. "A great battle is imminent. Can you not unleash your anger on our enemies—the Lannisters—instead of drawing steel against your own?"
Daisy Mormont obediently stepped aside. Eddard, hearing this, also sheathed his axe, nodded to Catelyn, and left with Abel.
He felt a bit of sympathy for the grieving woman whose husband was about to be executed.
Yes, at this moment, the innocent—though not entirely blameless—Lord of Winterfell, Eddard Stark, was set to suffer for trumped-up charges. He would be executed by the so-called "Wise King of his generation," Joffrey Baratheon, without even the chance to take the black.
Perhaps the deed had already been done, and raven messengers were even now flying toward the Riverlands.
This war was far from over.
---
Inside the House Karstark tent:
"Eddard, go tell Robb that I accept this mission, but I'll need five hundred mounted archers. No, let Morrison deliver the message—you stay here and accompany Toren. We'll leave him here when we depart."
Count Rickard's face was grim, his expression haggard—like a man risen from the grave.
On the blanket in front of him lay Toren Karstark, truly dead—his right hand severed and his neck pierced by a longsword.
Eddard sat silently, unwilling to speak.
The memories he had inherited were far from complete—like watching a blurred video through AR glasses. He understood little in detail.
"Eddard, we must make the Lannisters pay. Even if the Kingslayer is exchanged for the Duke and those two ladies, five Lannisters must die to join your brother in the grave."
Count Rickard's voice was cold and brittle, like the wind beyond the Wall—full of ice and pain.
"Yes, Father. It will be so," Eddard replied solemnly.
He had transmigrated, and the moment he awoke, he witnessed Toren's death. The two had never met, so he felt no great emotional sway regarding Robb's actions.
Feelings can't be forced.
But to play a role well, one must not betray one's identity. So his face remained grim, his tone resolute.
Fortunately, Count Rickard had not turned his anger on the Starks but instead directed it at the Lannisters.
That made things easier.
The tent fell silent again, while the Northern army camp bustled with activity.
The victory the night before had filled the Northern warriors with confidence. It seemed to them that the Lannisters were nothing but chickens and dogs—easily slaughtered.
Victory—especially continuous victory—is the greatest morale booster.
Warhorses neighed. Voices shouted. The Stark banner rose high, fluttering in the wind.
Beside it flew the Karstark banner. Then came the bear of House Mormont. Soon after followed the silver armor on red, the silver eagle on indigo, and the white sunburst on black.
One by one, the banners gathered beneath the direwolf.
The cavalry beneath the banners were sharp-eyed and high-spirited. Their armor gleamed, their weapons were polished, and their will was strong.
They passed Fairmarket, forded rivers, crossed forests, cut down enemy scouts, and arrived in the woods north of Riverrun before sunset.
They would rest here briefly before launching a surprise attack on the Lannister army besieging the Tully stronghold.
The Lannisters still believed themselves in control, convinced their forces swept all before them.
Their officers and men celebrated recent victories and the siege of Riverrun, unaware that the Kingslayer had been utterly defeated and the Northern army was already at their doorstep.
---
Night fell.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The sound of hoofbeats echoed like rain on banana leaves. Eddard pulled a javelin from his pack and hurled it at a Lannister scout in gold and red.
With a thump, it struck the man squarely in the back. He screamed briefly before falling from his horse.
Lando galloped forward and seized the riderless horse.
Karas Snow thrust his spear into another enemy's waist with lightning speed as Abel cut off the man's escape.
Dita Callander fired three arrows into a third horse, causing it to bolt and toss its rider.
The downed Lannister scrambled up to flee but was decapitated by Mam, who charged in on horseback.
"Young Master Eddard, that's the third scout team we've eliminated," Abel reported in a low voice.
He wasn't the best fighter, but he had sharp eyes, excellent night vision, and strong riding skills. He served as the team's lookout and skirmisher.
Mam swung his axe, beheaded the last two enemies, and grinned as he hung the heads from his saddle.
Military merit. Silver stags. Recognition from the Young Wolf himself.
Lando and Karas Snow led the captured warhorses over, laughing and joking about how to spend their spoils.
Warhorses were valued in gold dragons.
Dita helped drag the bodies into the grass and searched them for valuables.
Eddard observed the bodies. He felt no fear or horror—only a faint nausea.
This troubled him.
Perhaps he was naturally suited for killing, or maybe it was the influence of the original host's memories. In war-torn Westeros, with constant famine and poor medical care, death was commonplace.
He didn't have time to dwell on it.
He had a mission: clear the road of Lannister scouts so the main force and 500 archers could pass unnoticed.
House Karstark had been ordered to flank the enemy from the west and block the retreat of Ser Foeller and Ser Prester.
To do so, nearly 1,000 men had to reach their positions unnoticed—by crossing the two fords on the Tumblestone and Red Fork rivers.
A risky plan. But Robb Stark had stated that even if Karstark's forces were discovered, the battles at the other two fronts would proceed.
If successful, it would be a devastating blow to the enemy. A risk worth taking, said Robb.
Eddard scoffed. Easy to say when House Karstark bore most of the risk.
---
Half an hour earlier:
The Northern army quietly crossed the Tumblestone under cover of night. Robb and other Houses waited hidden in the forest.
House Karstark pushed south, then lay in ambush near the Red Fork.
Count Rickard personally assigned Eddard to lead the scouting force.
Eddard found it odd—why send another son into danger after losing one?
But he stopped trying to understand the logic of a feudal lord. It was pointless.
As one of several scout teams, Eddard and his five men had already killed two Lannister teams.
Previously, Ser Brynden "Blackfish" Tully had led elite Northern cavalry and dealt a blow to the Lannister scouts. Now, Eddard's enemies were just temporary riders, hastily pressed into service.
Their detection skills were poor—especially at night.
As they crossed the Red Fork, Abel once again spotted three enemy scouts. Eddard led his team to encircle and eliminate them.
With their deaths, his five men were promoted to [Descendants of the First Men], gaining a 10% Strength and 5% Constitution bonus.
Eddard noted that by killing one or two veterans, his men advanced quickly to Rank 1.
They showed great promise as heavy infantry. For cavalry, Agility bonuses would be needed.
Soldiers from the Vale likely had different attributes—but those knights were all hiding in the Eyrie under the rule of Lysa Arryn.
A paranoid, neurotic woman. Even with her allies dying, she remained in her castle, unconcerned.
Not far away, Lannister campfires flickered.
Eddard looked at his five companions, whose loyalty had risen to [Excellent] after [Three Small Victories].
He smiled faintly and led them deeper into the forest east of the enemy.
There were preparations to make.
---
South of Riverrun, under moonlight, lay a small plain and a forest beyond.
Villagers had once lived here, farming near the Red Fork. Life had been hard but bearable.
The arrival of the Lannister army changed that. Many villagers fled—some into Riverrun, others into the woods.
Eddard planned to use the eastern forest to his advantage.
Ser Foeller had only two options for retreat: east through the forest or south along the farmlands to Golden Tooth.
In Eddard's memory, they had chosen the southern route.
But things had changed. House Karstark now had orders to intercept them.
So Eddard gathered rope—hemp, straw, and coir. His plan: create the illusion of a larger army in the eastern forest by pulling branches and bushes.
If Ser Foeller took the eastern path, this illusion would trick him into turning south.
If not, a volley of arrows would greet him. Shouts from the north and west would drive him to retreat.
At the same time, Count Rickard would lead 400 archers and 300 cavalry to ambush from the south.
Their job: fire volleys, disrupt the formation, charge in, kill, and withdraw before the spearmen could react.
If successful, the enemy would be thrown into chaos.
The plan was Eddard's, and it had surprised his father.
It relied on terrain, psychology, and timing.
His five men had already set the ropes. One hundred archers were moving into position.
Now it was up to Ser Foeller to make his choice.