Chapitre 87: Wildlings, Dragons and Passionate Speeches
Tapping his foot anxiously against the ground, Jon looked over the map of the North. His brow furrowed as it had been for many hours, there was a few empty bowls stacked to his right, an empty cup tipped over and a half-full jug of ale resting at the far end of the table.
Accommodations in Mormont Keep were small and cramped, there were tens of thousands of people scattered all over the island home of House Mormont. All those still alive that were west of the Northern Mountains.
Food was becoming scarce as well and while they had boats sailing out to collect fish, there wasn't enough being caught to feed all the hungry mouths. They needed to do something and fast. 'But we can't do anything.' Jon thought angrily, frustration prevalent upon his face as he collapsed back into his chair.
Castle Cerwyn had been taken by Lord Bracken a few weeks ago and while Lord Vance had managed to retake Flint's Finger, that was the extent of their counterattack upon the Ironborn. They themselves were hunkered down in Torrhen's Square and had secured Barrowtown as well. Ensuring they had access out into the Saltspear and then out to the Blazewater Bay. As for the Bolton's, well they had were hunkered down in both the Dreadfort and also in Winterfell, unable to move without leaving themselves exposed.
The biggest threat was Stannis Baratheon, Sam had managed to send a few ravens detailing what the Baratheon King was doing. For now, he was remaining where he was, trying and failing to open negotiations with Mance Ryder, the two men unwilling and unable to find common ground. In the meantime though, the troops he had were training extensively.
Though on the upside, a great deal of trouble was brewing between the Brothers of the Night's Watch and the forces of Stannis Baratheon. Not only were the Baratheon troops eating their food and taking up a vast majority of room within Castle Black.
'Some good news at least.' Taking a deep breath, Jon rose from his chair and strolled out of the room. Just a nice gentle stroll to clear his head so he could hopefully come up with a way to rectify their situation. 'The Ironborn possess over five thousand men, the Boltons a similar size. We possess just over three thousand men. Mors Umber has five thousand. Ideally, I'd like to push in, retake the Wolfswood and Deepwood Motte so my men can hunt. But I don't possess the numbers to do so.'
"Jon!" Looking up, he saw his squire, Ryon Forrester rushing towards him. "I think the Old Gods have answered our prayers."
Confused, Jon followed Ryon down to the open courtyard where he looked to see a dozen Wildlings entering, led by a beautiful blonde-haired woman who attracted the gaze of many men, Jon himself included. 'How did they?' He questioned, quickly brushing it off and walking to greet them. "Welcome, Free Folk of the North. May I ask, how you managed to do this."
"Your friend, Owen Norrey helped us." The woman explained. "He remains at the coast, seeing to the ships that had ferried across me and a few hundred Free Folk to help you."
"You?" Jon asked unsurely.
The woman nodded. "We, the Free Folk while not bending the knee, recognise House Stark and King Robb Stark as our new ruler. Mance Ryder sends me in his place while he keeps Stannis Baratheon at the Wall."
Jon could breathe a sigh of relief at that moment, instead settled for a small smile. "May I know your name?"
"Val." The woman responded.
-X- Line Break -X-
The Great Hall was tense, lords and ladies shifting uncomfortably upon their seats as they waited anxiously to see how the King would respond to the news they had just been given. Randyll Tarly as of two days ago had taken Casterly Rock and now the entirety of the Westerlands had bent the knee to the Young Wolf.
It had great news for a multitude of reasons, but most importantly they now had twenty thousand men ready to be deployed, all waiting for the King's instruction. Their meeting had been about finalising their plans going forwards, the distribution of troops in the various campaigns. Should they march south in full force, take Kings Landing and route the combined Dornish and Golden Company host? Or should they wait, bide their time and open negotiations while sending Randyll Tarly to the North and aid the war effort there?
Opinions had been split and while remaining silent, Robb had listened to every suggestion put forth. The Vale and even Edward had been adamant about marching North and Robb could understand why. Every day he had to remind himself that Bran, Rickon and Catelyn were there, their whereabouts unknown.
It took everything he had not to order a march North in order to find them. To reunite his family once more, but just as this war had grown beyond his expectations, so had the responsibilities placed upon him.
He'd heard the rumours, the questions as to whether he cared for his family. Everyone could see the distance and aloofness Robb showed towards his father. There was an anger there that everyone was aware of but no one brought up in front of either man. Many questioned why but it was a matter both Robb and Ned understood.
Both men cared for their family, Robb had gone to war to save his family, later going to war to avenge the deaths of his father and sisters. Ned's survival and subsequent arrival was a shock and had overwhelmed Robb. So he had used the one emotion that had fuelled him throughout the war, rage. As wrong as it was to blame everything upon his father, Robb did and Ned in turn took it all upon himself because he understood Robb's irrational anger and above all else, loved his son.
They were united in their cause, but separated by their emotions.
That was something no one understood and they whispered about. Questioned whether Robb was just another power-hungry King who would sacrifice his family in order for more power. They never said as such to his face, but Robb had heard all the rumours. Garlan, Smalljon, Marq and many others told him them.
But he did nothing, let them talk he cared little for their words. All he cared about was ending this war and saving what remained of his family. He didn't need others to understand him, they were but stepping stones upon his path to save his family.
Yet as they debated about their next move, Olyvar had entered, bringing with him news that had silenced them all. News none had expected and now they waited, gazes looking towards Robb who remained silent as he reclined lazily upon his chair. His face gave nothing away as he looked out towards the young Frey.
"Is that everything, Olyvar?" He asked and the young man in question flushed when Robb looked pointedly towards the letter in his grasp. The initial news he had told had shocked him enough that he forgets entirely about the letter he had come to deliver in the first place.
Moving around the table, Olyvar handed Robb the letter and bowed his head in apology. Robb dismissed it with a wave of his hand, turning to the letter with a frown. All in the room were left shocked when they saw the symbol emblazoned upon the wax before Robb broke the seal.
A Dragon.
'So the rumours are true. The Targaryens have returned.' Ned bemoaned, frown deepening as his leg ached at the name.
For a few moments, Robb silently read through the letter before handing it back towards Olyvar. "It seems, we have not one, but two enemies to deal with. Two factions of Targaryens. One that has taken Kings Landing, Aegon Targaryen. Under him the Dornish and Golden Company. Another at Dragonstone, possessing three living Dragons and under the command of Queen Daenerys Targaryen." Those words alone caused the throne room to erupt into chaos. Some outright refusing to believe the truth while others panicked.
"Silence!" Smalljon roared. "Have ye no pride or sense?! How dare ye interrupt the King!"
And just as Smalljon finished and wanted, silence filed the Great Hall once more. "I share your thoughts and your fears. We know the power Dragons possess, we have been told stories of what the Targaryens accomplished with them. But they are but beasts and just like every beast, we know they can be killed. The Dance of Dragons proved that."
Murmuring filled the room, Lords and Ladies looking to one another, Robb rising to his feet. "Here in this new kingdom, stands the greatest minds in Westeros. We know Dragons can be killed, but we also know their power. The Targaryen came to Westeros with the same guile and stance as Aegon the Conqueror, they want to bring about a new Targaryen dynasty. But we can do something our ancestors, our forefathers never could, we can defeat the Targaryens and their Dragons. We can rewrite history!"
There was a cheer that sprung about from those words and Robb smiled.
Beside him, Ned looked upon his son as if seeing him for the first time. And despite the situation, Ned couldn't help but smile. This was the Young Wolf. This was Robb Stark. This was his son and Ned had never been more proud of him than he was at that moment.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone