One week ago.
I was still stuck outside the walls of Lannisport, playing foreman to a bunch of prisoners who were digging "siege trenches" that were mostly for show. I was just waiting for a sign that our little theater production had actually tricked Tywin when Jon Umber showed up with a message from the King.
I followed him to the main command tent. As soon as I lifted the flap, I knew the vibe was off. The room was small, but it was packed with every heavy hitter we had. The Blackfish was the lowest-ranking guy there. Everyone else was an Earl or a direct heir, including my "cheap" father, Rickard.
The weirdest part? Everyone was looking at me like I was a steak and they hadn't eaten in a month. Even the Greatjon was leaning in, looking uncharacteristically eager.
"Eddard, glad you could make it. Have a seat," Robb said, pointing to the chair right next to him.
I sat down, not bothering with the formalities. "What's the word, Your Majesty? News from Harrenhal?"
"The best," Robb said, handing me a scrap of parchment. By the dim orange light of the lanterns, I scanned the note. Tywin has left Harrenhal. He's marching for Riverrun. The bait is taken. It was stamped with the Tully trout.
I leaned back, a small smirk on my face. "That's huge. So, next move: we leave a skeleton crew here to keep up the act, and the rest of the cavalry slips out through the Golden Road tonight?"
"That's the plan," Robb nodded. But then he hesitated, a look of intense anticipation crossing his face. "But there's one more thing. Eddard, I've been watching the way you handled Lannisport. The trenches, the 'siege engines' your guys built... you've got a real head for this stuff."
He leaned in. "Tell me, is there a way we can take the Golden Tooth? Fast?"
I stared at him, my brain stalling for a second. Wait, if I had a magic way to take that fortress, why would I have spent three days looking for a goat path?
But then I looked around the room. Every lord in that tent was hanging on my next word. I realized I'd fallen into the classic "Capable Man Trap." If you do your job too well, people stop asking if you can do something and start assuming you already have a solution for everything. I'd accidentally made myself the army's IT guy, and now they wanted me to fix the server.
Robb saw my hesitation and glanced at the Blackfish. Apparently, they'd discussed this.
"Eddard," Robb whispered, loud enough only for me to hear. "If you can pull this off, the Golden Tooth is yours to manage. You'll be a Lord in your own right. If you want to stay North, I'll give you whatever land you want near Karhold to build a new castle. I'll even back you for Harrenhal if you want it. Just give me the Tooth."
I blinked. Okay, wow. He's really dangling the carrot now.
An Earlship. A gold mine. A seat at the big kids' table that didn't depend on my brother dying. It was a hell of an offer. I closed my eyes and started racking my brain. I thought about every strategy game I'd ever played, every documentary I'd watched, and specifically, the layout of that fortress from the mountains.
The tent went dead silent. You could hear the torches flickering.
"I've got it," I said, snapping my eyes open.
I remembered the view from the cliff when we were bypassing the castle. The East Wall was built right at the base of a hundred-meter drop. "Seizing it from the front is suicide," I told the room. "But we've got a back door. Or rather, a skylight."
The lords crowded around the map.
"We take a hundred of our best guys," I said, tracing a line on the parchment. "They rappel down the cliff face under the cover of night. If they can hit the East Gate from the inside while the garrison is sleeping, they can open it before the guards even know they're under attack."
The atmosphere in the tent shifted from tense to electric in an instant.
"I remember that cliff!" someone shouted.
"I saw the guards down there," another lord added. "They never even looked up."
The Greatjon slammed his fist on the table, nearly toppling a bowl of soup. "I'm in! The Umbers are the bravest bastards in this army! This is our mission! Don't you dare give it to anyone else!"
"Shut it, Jon," Maege Mormont snapped. "Bear Island women can climb better than your giant lugs any day."
"Our scouts live in the woods," Galbart Glover cut in. "We're the ones for the job."
"We're mountain people," Owen Norrey boomed, his voice rattling the tent poles. "Who's better at cliffs than a Norrey?"
I watched them bickering and realized they weren't just being brave, they were dizzy from winning. They thought we were invincible.
"Quiet!" Robb roared, hitting the table himself. He looked at me. "Who do we use, Eddard?"
I looked at the eager faces. "We'll split it. Owen, give me thirty of your best mountain climbers. You guys are the vanguard. You go down first and set the rope ladders."
Owen puffed out his chest like a proud rooster. "Consider it done."
"The other seventy come from the Umbers," I said, turning to the Greatjon. "Your guys are built like tanks. They can climb a rope ladder even with armor and shields on. Once the Norreys clear the path, your boys are the muscle that takes the gatehouse."
The Greatjon let out a laugh that sounded like a bark. He looked like a kid who'd just been told he was getting a puppy.
"That's just step one," I cautioned them. "We also need five hundred of our best riders to loop back through the smuggler's path the night before. They wait in the Riverlands side of the Tooth. The second that gate opens, they charge in and turn the courtyard into a graveyard."
"I'll handle that part," Robb said, his eyes gleaming. "We'll use the Karstark riders, the Glovers, and the Mormonts."
Lord Tytos Blackwood stood up, looking a little left out. "And the rest of us? Are we just supposed to sit around here and play house while you guys have all the fun?"
He'd already looted every village in sight and was itching for a real fight.
I looked at him and gave him a reassuring smile. "Of course not, Lord Tytos. Trust me, I've got a job for everyone."