"During the time I am away, command of the main army will be temporarily entrusted to Earl Roose Bolton. Earl Maege Sevin will assist him, and Lady Maege Mormont will continue to be responsible for supervising military discipline within the army."
Earlier, when Robb had rearranged and reassigned personnel within the main force, it had left Greatjon Umber and Rickard Karstark seething with anger. In their eyes, it meant that their abilities had not received Robb's full recognition.
However, they did not openly refute Robb. They had already learned the importance of upholding their lord's authority in front of outsiders.
So after the meeting ended, the two of them sought Robb out in private.
Greatjon huffed angrily, breathing heavily. "I don't understand, my lord. Roose Bolton is a schemer—how can you hand the army over to him?!"
Rickard Karstark said nothing, but the look on his face made it clear that he agreed with Greatjon.
Robb poured each of them a cup of ale. "What do you think of Lady Maege Mormont as a person?"
Greatjon answered without hesitation. "Loyal, hot-tempered, and a bit stubborn and willful."
"Then do you think she's done a good job as the head of military discipline?"
Greatjon hesitated for a moment, but still answered honestly. "Of course. Her temperament is best suited for that kind of thankless work."
Robb took a sip of ale. "Then what if I promoted her to be the overall commander? Do you think she could do that job well?"
Both Greatjon and Rickard Karstark fell silent.
They were smart men, and they had already grasped the hidden meaning in Robb's words. After a while, Rickard Karstark spoke resentfully:
"I know we're not suitable, but you can't let that skinning-obsessed lunatic be the overall commander either. He's a thorough schemer. As far as I know, he's kept quite a bit of cavalry back in the Dreadfort—who knows what crooked thoughts he's hiding."
Robb soothed them calmly. "The waters of the Green Fork are clear. The waters of the swamps are foul. But both have their uses. The Green Fork irrigates the land; the swamps block the enemy. Can I favor only the Green Fork and despise the swamps?"
"If the Green Fork floods, I will do my best to repair it. If the swamps grow too foul and affect my people's living conditions, I will lead men to manage them as well. Though there is good and bad between the two, in my eyes there is no good or bad—only whether they can be used appropriately."
"In a distant land of wisdom, there is a saying I like very much: clouds circle the sky, water rests at the bottom of the bottle. Each of you has your own place. If you are clouds, I will let you be in the sky. If you are water, I will let you stay at the bottom of the bottle."
Greatjon and Rickard Karstark stared at him, dumbfounded, not knowing what to say for a long while.
A large part of the reason was that they hadn't really understood what their lord was talking about at all—but they still grasped the gist of it: Roose Bolton is more suitable for this position, but I trust you more, and there will be chances for you to prove yourselves later.
As for trying to make them fully understand those metaphors and whatever nonsense about proverbs from distant lands, it would have been quicker to just kill them outright.
This half-understood confusion gave them a distinct feeling—Robb seemed smarter than them, and by quite a lot.
If some ordinary lord had dared to chew words at them like this, speaking in such cloudy riddles, they would have long since lost patience and drawn their swords to shut him up.
But they both knew how terrifying and mysterious Robb was, and neither of them had the courage.
Rickard Stark rose helplessly. "Very well. We submit to your decision."
Having settled Greatjon and Rickard Stark, Robb immediately gave the order for the army to set out.
The main force followed Roose Bolton along the Kingsroad, their primary objective being to intercept Tywin's army, which was burning and pillaging its way down the Kingsroad.
As for Robb himself, he took fewer than three hundred wolf cavalry and prepared to head for the ford at Luanhe City, cross the Green Fork, and reinforce Riverrun, which was currently under siege.
...
Luanhe City was not far from Robb's position, and the wolf cavalry were all mounted troops, their marching speed utterly incomparable to that of the main army. In less than an hour, Robb could already see Luanhe City on the horizon.
Theon Greyjoy glanced around, his tone relaxed. "They've tied people to these road markers. All Lannister spies. Looks like Lord Frey of Luanhe City is standing with us."
The Blackfish's expression, however, was far more solemn. "That proves nothing. Luanhe City has gathered a force of four thousand men, yet when House Tully summoned its bannermen, Lord Frey did not go to Riverrun. Defending one's own lands is one thing; going to war for honor against House Lannister is another matter entirely."
Robb neither agreed nor disagreed inwardly. He knew that Lord Frey had no honor to speak of—only sufficient profit could move such a man.
What that man did not know was that Robb was, in fact, the same kind of person as him.
The group soon arrived outside Luanhe City. This was the first time Robb had ever laid eyes on the castle that would later become the site of the infamous "Red Wedding."
It had two keeps, each spanning one bank of the Green Fork, forming a mutually supporting, horn-like formation. It was truly easy to defend and hard to attack. Even if Robb brought his main force to assault it, twenty thousand against the four thousand within the walls, it would still take an enormous amount of time.
That was, of course, assuming Robb did not go all out.
Looking at the tightly shut gates, the Blackfish ground his teeth in fury. "That old bastard didn't take his oaths seriously at all. No wonder my brother never trusted him!"
Robb said evenly, "I've heard that Lord Frey is advanced in years—possessing an old man's caution, a young man's ambition, and no shortage of shrewd calculation. A person like that will always help whoever is winning."
"That old turtle!" the Blackfish cursed. "The Lannister army is burning fields and looting farms in his lands, and he just hides inside and refuses to come out."
From a distance, the walls of Luanhe City bristled with spearpoints, sword gleams, and massive crossbows. Every battlement and arrow slit was manned by archers. The drawbridge had been raised, and the portcullis lowered.
Clearly, Lord Frey had gathered all four thousand of his levied soldiers inside the castle.
Just as they were observing the fortress, a side gate suddenly opened. A wooden plank bridge extended across the moat, and a dozen or so knights rode out toward them.
They bore banners of silver-gray ground with dark blue twin towers, and each of them looked like a weasel.
One rider came to the front and stopped before Robb's party. He looked especially like an old, weary weasel, though he was quite polite. "My father has sent me to convey his greetings to you all. May I ask who leads this fine force?"
Robb urged his horse forward. "You should have heard my name. Robb Stark."
Grey Wind followed at Robb's side, savage ferocity gleaming in his eyes as he stared at the other man's mount.
A flicker of interest passed through the old knight's watery gray eyes, but his horse snorted uneasily and shied away from the direwolf. "If you are willing to enter the castle and dine with my father, and explain your purpose, I believe he would be greatly honored."
(End of Chapter)