Winterfell was quiet but it was the quiet before a storm.
Three months had passed since Andar left. The snows had grown deeper turning the Kingsroad into a treacherous ribbon of ice. But the news traveled faster than wagons.
King Robert Baratheon was dead.
The raven arrived at Deepwood Keep at dawn. It was a black bird larger than the usual messengers carrying the seal of the Hand of the King.
But it was not from Ned Stark.
It was from the Grand Maester Pycelle.
To all Lords and Bannermen of the Realm
His Grace King Robert of House Baratheon First of His Name has died of wounds sustained during a hunt. His son Joffrey of House Baratheon First of His Name has ascended the Iron Throne.
All Lords are commanded to swear fealty to the new King.
Andar stood in his office staring at the parchment.
"It has begun," he whispered.
He looked at the second scroll that had arrived just an hour later. This one was from Robb Stark.
To Lord Andar Stark
My father has been arrested for treason. The Lannisters hold him in the Black Cells. I am calling the banners. Winterfell rides for Kings Landing. Bring your men. Bring your thunder.
Robb Stark Acting Lord of Winterfell.
Andar put the letter down on his desk which was now made of polished oak and covered in maps.
"Cullen," Andar said.
The old steward stepped forward. He looked worried. "My Lord? Is it war?"
"It is war," Andar confirmed. "Robb is marching South."
"Then we must muster the levies!" Cullen said his old habits taking over. "I will call the farmers. We can raise maybe two hundred spearmen if we scrape the barrel."
"No," Andar cut him off. "No farmers. No spears."
He walked to the window that overlooked the new parade ground.
Below the Iron Squad which was now the First Musketeer Battalion was assembled. Two hundred men in black coats with silver buttons. They did not hold rusty spears. They held Type 2 Muskets with bayonets fixed. Their boots were polished. Their faces were clean.
Behind them stood the Artillery Company. Ten light 6 pounder cannons painted dark grey hitched to teams of four strong horses.
"We take the professionals," Andar said. "Leave the farmers to harvest the crops. If we starve in winter winning the war means nothing."
He turned to Jory who was now wearing the insignia of a Major which was a silver star pinned to his collar.
"Major Jory. Is the battalion ready to move?"
"We can march in the hour My Lord," Jory saluted. "Ammunition wagons are fully loaded. Eighty rounds per man. Five hundred rounds of canister for the guns."
"Good."
Andar walked to a large covered object in the corner of the room. He pulled the cloth away.
It was a strange device made of brass and mirrors. A heliograph. A signal lamp.
"Cullen," Andar said. "You stay here. You are the Castellan of Fortress Deepwood."
"Me? My Lord I am just a steward!"
"You are the keeper of the factory," Andar said sternly. "Your job is more important than fighting. You must keep the furnaces running. Mott knows the production schedule. Do not let him stop. If the Lannisters try to send spies hang them. If the Ironborn come back close the blast doors and wait for them to die against the concrete."
He handed Cullen a heavy key.
"This opens the powder magazine. Only you and Mott have a key. Guard it with your life."
The march to Winterfell took five days.
This time Andar did not travel in a slow ox wagon. The artillery horses were strong and the infantry marched at a grueling pace that Andar called a forced march.
They arrived at the gathering point just as the sun was setting.
The area around Winterfell was a sea of tents. The banners of the North flapped in the wind. The Giant of Umber. The Sunburst of Karstark. The Merman of Manderly. The Flayed Man of Bolton.
Twelve thousand men had gathered.
It was a medieval army in all its chaotic glory. Knights in plate armor were drinking and boasting. Levies with sharpened hoes were huddled by fires looking terrified. Whores were working the edges of the camp.
Andar's column marched right through the center.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The sound of two hundred boots hitting the frozen ground in perfect unison cut through the noise of the camp.
The Northern Lords stopped their drinking. They watched.
The Black Army looked alien. They carried no shields. They wore no mail. They marched with a strange stiff discipline that made the unruly Northern berserkers uncomfortable.
Andar rode at the front on a black stallion.
He rode straight to the Great Keep where the war council was being held.
The guards at the door who were Stark household troops recognized him. They opened the heavy oak doors without a word.
Inside the Great Hall was tense.
Robb Stark stood at the head of the table. He looked young. Too young. His red hair was messy and his eyes were red from lack of sleep. Grey Wind his direwolf paced nervously at his feet.
Around him stood the Great Lords. They were arguing.
"We must march down the Kingsroad!" The Greatjon roared slamming his fist on the map. "Smash through the Lannister lines! Tywin is old! We will break him!"
"And leave our flank open?" Roose Bolton spoke softly his voice like dry leaves. "We should be cautious. Wait for the Riverlands to bleed Tywin first."
"Cautious?" Lord Karstark spat. "While Ned Stark sits in a dungeon? We march now!"
The doors banged open.
Andar walked in. The snow on his cloak melted instantly in the heat of the hall.
"Lord Andar," Robb said relief washing over his face. "You are here."
"I am here My Lord," Andar bowed. "And I brought the thunder."
The Greatjon snorted. "Thunder? I heard you killed some pirates on a beach boy. Good for you. But killing Tywin Lannister is different from shooting fish in a barrel."
Andar looked at the giant.
"You are right Lord Umber. Tywin is smarter. That is why we are not going to fight him with swords."
Andar walked to the map. He picked up a wooden marker.
"Where is the Lannister army?"
"Here," Robb pointed to the Trident. "Tywin is moving North. He has twenty thousand men. Heavy horse. Pikes."
"And Jaime Lannister?"
"He is besieging Riverrun. Another fifteen thousand."
"Thirty five thousand," Roose Bolton whispered. "Against our twelve thousand. We are outnumbered three to one."
The room went silent. The math was grim.
"Numbers do not matter," Andar said.
He placed a black marker on the map near the Twins.
"If we cross at the Twins we can split our forces. One army distracts Tywin. The other rides fast to Riverrun and captures Jaime."
"We know that!" The Greatjon yelled. "But Walder Frey holds the bridge! That old weasel will never let us cross!"
"He will," Andar said calmly.
"How?" Robb asked. "He will demand a toll. A marriage. A castle."
"He will demand nothing," Andar said.
He looked around the room at the confused faces of the medieval lords.
"Walder Frey is a pragmatist. He bets on the winner. Right now he thinks Tywin is the winner."
Andar pulled a small object from his pocket. It was a canister shot. He slammed it onto the table. It rattled ominously.
"When I arrive at the Twins I will not offer him a marriage pact. I will offer him a choice."
Andar leaned over the map his eyes burning with cold fire.
"Open the gates within one hour. Or I will turn his precious towers into gravel and float them down the river."
Robb looked at Andar. He saw the change in him. This was not the polite cousin from the feast. This was a warlord.
"Can you do it?" Robb asked quietly. "Can you breach the Twins?"
"My Lord," Andar smiled. "The Twins are made of stone. Stone breaks."
"Good," Robb nodded. He stood up tall looking like the King in the North he was destined to be.
"Then we march at dawn. To the Twins."
[Quest Started: The Crossing]
[Objective: Secure passage through the Twins.]
[Method: Intimidation / Artillery]
[Reward: The respect of the Riverlands.]
Outside the wind howled. But inside the hall the Lords were silent. They looked at the small black canister on the table.
They realized suddenly that the war had changed. The age of heroes was ending. The age of iron had begun.
.....
Author Note
Hi guys! Thank you for reading my fanfiction.
I wanted to let you know that I'm releasing bonus chapters for Power Stones. Here are the goals:
25 Power Stones: 1 Bonus Chapters
50 Power Stones: 1 Bonus Chapters
75 Power Stones: 2 Bonus Chapters
100 Power Stones: 2 Bonus Chapters
Thanks for the support!