Council of War
May 8, 2012 2:30:17 GMT
Post by anthony on May 8, 2012 2:30:17 GMT
The Great Hall of Winterfell thrummed with energy as Robb rubbed his eyes slowly. Eight tables lined the hall, each overflowing with Lords and retainers, Great and modest alike. The feast was nearing its end, and Robb was eager to get to the issue at hand.
I did not call these men for a grand feast, I called them for war.
The bannermen had been arriving for nearly a week now, filtering in slowly from the various strongholds of the North. Though Robb was glad to see them come, Winterfell and the surrounding area were full to bursting with men. Men who needed food, men who needed water, men who needed a place to sleep.
Robb could not deny that he was glad for the turnout. The North had loved his father dearly, but Robb was afraid they would be hesitant to follow the Wolf's Son. Surprise was his when, all said and done, every Northern house of note had arrived. Their presence was a good sign, he knew, but they were here for more than one reason, he knew.
They will want to see if their new King is a suckling pup, or the Wolf his father was.
Finally, Robb decided it was time to get to business. Washing the foul taste in his mouth down with his last dregs of wine, he stood. Only the Lords seated closest to him noticed at first, so he allowed a few seconds for the Great Hall to quiet down before he began.
"Lords of the North. Thank you for arriving promptly." Letting his gaze fall upon as many faces as possible, he continued.
"Our need is great, and the time for us to act is now. The North was once a great Kingdom, revered by all of Westeros as the seat of the Stark Kings and their loyal vassals. But when these false Southern Kings swept into Westeros, Torrhen Stark became the King Who Knelt. The last King in the North."
As he built momentum, he paused a moment to close his eyes and gather himself.
Eyes snapping open, Robb let his frustration and anger seep forth.
"The Wolf will no longer be a subject to the Lion!"
Raucous cheers greeted this declaration, and Robb breathed a sigh of relief. He had the men for now, he would earn their respect later.
As the cacophony faded, Robb adopted a quieter tone. "Now, if the Lords of each house would please dismiss all but his closest advisors, I think it is time for our war council to commence."
Men and women, serving wenches and bards, squires and wives all filtered slowly from the Hall, and Robb sat down to wait for the Lords to gather around the Great Table. Robb nodded to Bran and Rickon, granting them permission to sit in on the council, though he suspected they would say little. If the Night's Watch did not oblige his request for the return of his half-brother Jon, Bran may well be the one to sit the North's throne. Robb would only do him a disservice by excluding him from meetings and councils.
As his vassals gathered around the table, Robb spoke.
"I have done enough talking as it is. I would like to hear how the North thinks we should deal with this abomination on the Iron Throne. Speak freely, men, we have no secrets from each other."
I did not call these men for a grand feast, I called them for war.
The bannermen had been arriving for nearly a week now, filtering in slowly from the various strongholds of the North. Though Robb was glad to see them come, Winterfell and the surrounding area were full to bursting with men. Men who needed food, men who needed water, men who needed a place to sleep.
Robb could not deny that he was glad for the turnout. The North had loved his father dearly, but Robb was afraid they would be hesitant to follow the Wolf's Son. Surprise was his when, all said and done, every Northern house of note had arrived. Their presence was a good sign, he knew, but they were here for more than one reason, he knew.
They will want to see if their new King is a suckling pup, or the Wolf his father was.
Finally, Robb decided it was time to get to business. Washing the foul taste in his mouth down with his last dregs of wine, he stood. Only the Lords seated closest to him noticed at first, so he allowed a few seconds for the Great Hall to quiet down before he began.
"Lords of the North. Thank you for arriving promptly." Letting his gaze fall upon as many faces as possible, he continued.
"Our need is great, and the time for us to act is now. The North was once a great Kingdom, revered by all of Westeros as the seat of the Stark Kings and their loyal vassals. But when these false Southern Kings swept into Westeros, Torrhen Stark became the King Who Knelt. The last King in the North."
As he built momentum, he paused a moment to close his eyes and gather himself.
Eyes snapping open, Robb let his frustration and anger seep forth.
"The Wolf will no longer be a subject to the Lion!"
Raucous cheers greeted this declaration, and Robb breathed a sigh of relief. He had the men for now, he would earn their respect later.
As the cacophony faded, Robb adopted a quieter tone. "Now, if the Lords of each house would please dismiss all but his closest advisors, I think it is time for our war council to commence."
Men and women, serving wenches and bards, squires and wives all filtered slowly from the Hall, and Robb sat down to wait for the Lords to gather around the Great Table. Robb nodded to Bran and Rickon, granting them permission to sit in on the council, though he suspected they would say little. If the Night's Watch did not oblige his request for the return of his half-brother Jon, Bran may well be the one to sit the North's throne. Robb would only do him a disservice by excluding him from meetings and councils.
As his vassals gathered around the table, Robb spoke.
"I have done enough talking as it is. I would like to hear how the North thinks we should deal with this abomination on the Iron Throne. Speak freely, men, we have no secrets from each other."