Chapitre 45: Shadows of Change
299 AC, Lannisport…
The following day, the war council slowly gathered once again in the grand hall of Lannisport. Lords and knights conversed in hushed tones, their voices laden with the weight of yesterday's decision. Speculation and uncertainty lingered in the air, as each noble contemplated the implications of the choices before them.
Lord Rickard Karstark approached Rody, his face etched with a mixture of weariness and determination. He placed a hand on Rody's shoulder and asked, "What do you think we should do, Rody? Should we press on or retreat to the safety of the Golden Tooth?"
Rody took a moment to gather his thoughts before responding. "My lord, I agree with your decision to retreat," he replied earnestly. "We have already achieved a significant victory by capturing Lannisport, and it has sent a clear message to House Lannister. Pressing on to Casterly Rock would be a dangerous endeavor, risking unnecessary losses and potentially diverting our attention from other strategic opportunities."
Lord Rickard nodded approvingly, his gaze filled with respect. "You are a valuable asset to the North, Rody," he said sincerely. "Not only for your skill with a sword but also for your strategic thinking. Many nobles appreciate the sacrifice you made by sneaking into Lannisport and opening the gates for our army. Your actions have not gone unnoticed."
Rody felt a surge of gratitude at Lord Rickard's words. The support and recognition of the northern lords meant a great deal to him, reinforcing his commitment to their cause.
Their conversation was interrupted as Lord Rickard's attention was drawn to a commotion among the gathered nobles. Black Walder Frey, accompanied by a few of his men, entered the hall with an air of arrogance. The room grew tense as whispers spread among the Northern lords, their eyes narrowing with disdain.
Lord Rickard's voice dropped to a low, disapproving tone. "The Freys have no honor," he muttered to Rody. "Black Walder should have been punished for his role in the desecration. But alas, House Frey's ties to House Stark through the upcoming marriage make it complicated."
Rody's expression remained neutral as he considered Lord Rickard's words. He understood the delicate political situation that House Stark now found themselves in. Accepting House Frey as kin by marriage meant navigating treacherous waters, and certain compromises had to be made.
"But, my lord, we must consider the bigger picture," Rody replied, yielding to the current situation of war with a measured voice. "House Frey's alliance is crucial to the success of our cause. It may be distasteful, but we must tread carefully. The Northern nobles may not accept a southern queen, let alone a member of House Frey, but we must prioritize the greater good."
Lord Rickard shook his head, his expression a mixture of frustration and resignation. "I fear the repercussions of such alliances, the Northern nobles are not happy about the situation," he murmured. "But you speak true, Rody. Our cause requires sacrifices, even if they are hard to swallow."
Their conversation was cut short as the grand doors of the hall swung open, revealing the crown prince himself, Robb Stark. The room fell into a respectful silence as all eyes turned towards him.
Robb's presence commanded attention, his demeanor composed yet burdened with the weight of responsibility. He approached the table at the center of the hall and took his place, his eyes sweeping across the assembled nobles.
"Good morrow, my lords," Robb greeted them, his voice steady and authoritative. "We find ourselves at a critical juncture in this war. The decision we make today will shape the course of events in the days to come."
The nobles leaned forward, their attention fully focused on Robb's words. It was a moment of great significance, as the fate of their armies and the future of the North hung in the balance.
Robb's gaze swept across the assembled lords, his expression grave. "My lords, we face a difficult decision," he began, his voice echoing through the hall. "Casterly Rock, the ancestral seat of House Lannister, stands before us as a formidable obstacle. Its defenses are strong, and the reports of its defenses bolstered by the enemy make our task even more daunting."
Black Walder, his face etched with determination, spoke up. "We must not let fear dictate our actions," he declared. "We have come this far, endured countless hardships. To abandon the siege now would be a grave dishonor to our fallen comrades."
Lord Mallister, known for his strategic acumen, raised an eyebrow in response. "While I understand the importance of perseverance, my lord, we must also consider the cost," he countered. "Our forces are weary, and Casterly Rock's defenses have proven formidable. A hasty assault could lead to unnecessary casualties and further drain our resources."
The hall buzzed with murmurs of agreement and dissent. The nobles from both the Riverlands and the North voiced their opinions, their arguments echoing off the stone walls.
Rody stood among them, his mind still reeling from the recent events. His loyalty to their cause burned bright, but he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that their resources were stretched thin.
Each noble present contemplated the gravity of the decision before them. It was a choice that would shape the course of the war and determine the fate of countless lives.
As the discussion intensified, voices began to rise, filled with conviction and urgency. The air crackled with the clash of differing opinions, as noble after noble put forth their arguments.
Lord Rickard Karstark, his voice resonating with authority, stood up to address the council. "Retreating to the Golden Tooth is a prudent choice," he asserted. "We have made our point by capturing Lannisport, and we cannot afford to squander our forces on an uncertain assault. Let us consolidate our strength and seek other opportunities to weaken House Lannister's hold."
Lord Mallister nodded in agreement. "Indeed, Lord Karstark speaks wisely," he concurred. "The risks of attacking Casterly Rock far outweigh the potential gains. We must consider the long game, and strategic retreat can be a means to bide our time and strike when the odds are more in our favor."
Not all were in accord, however. Ser Harold Ryger, a knight renowned for his boldness, challenged their stance. "If we shy away from the challenge now, we risk appearing weak and indecisive," he argued. "Our enemies will seize upon our hesitation and use it to their advantage. We must press forward and maintain the momentum we have gained."
The debate raged on, with each noble presenting their own perspective and rallying their allies. The room grew increasingly tense, as the stakes of their decision loomed larger with every passing moment.
"My lords, your perspectives are invaluable, and I appreciate the depth of your considerations," Robb finally interjected, his voice commanding attention. "This decision weighs heavily upon us all, and I will take each of your arguments to heart."
As Robb prepared to offer his thoughts and bring the discussion closer to a resolution, the heavy wooden doors of the war council chamber swung open with a creak. All eyes turned towards the entrance, and a hush fell over the room as a Stark guard hurriedly approached their prince. The guard whispered something urgently into Robb's ear, his expression tense and troubled.
Furrowing his brow, Robb nodded to the guard and instructed him to bring the messenger inside. The atmosphere in the hall became even more charged as everyone anxiously awaited the news that had interrupted their deliberations. A runner swiftly entered the room, his breath quick and his face flushed with exertion. In his hands, he held two sealed missives.
Robb reached out and took the letters from the runner, his grip tightening around them as his eyes scanned the contents. His features darkened, and a palpable sense of tension settled over the room. Sensing the gravity of the situation, Robb handed the missives to his brother, Jon Snow, who stood beside him.
Jon unfolded the parchment and cleared his throat, his voice resonating through the hall. "My lords," he began, his tone serious and measured, "these letters bring dire tidings."
He raised his eyes, meeting the gazes of the assembled nobles, and continued to read aloud the distressing words contained within the missives. The words echoed through the chamber, carrying a weight that hung heavily in the air.
"The second missive brings tidings of another tragic event," Jon began, his voice resonating with determination. "Renly Baratheon, the self-proclaimed king who held court in the capital of the Reach, Highgarden, has met his untimely end."
Murmurs of surprise and speculation rippled through the chamber. Some lords exchanged glances, their minds racing to comprehend the implications of such news. Jon continued, his voice steady despite the weight of the revelation.
"The exact circumstances of Renly Baratheon's demise remain uncertain," Jon explained. "There are rumors that he was assassinated by his own Kingsguards, but the truth of his death is shrouded in speculation."
A hushed tension settled over the room as the implications sank in. The death of a contender for the Iron Throne had far-reaching consequences, and the nobles understood the potential ramifications for the ongoing conflict. Whispers filled the air, speculating on the loyalty and motives of the Kingsguards involved.
"Furthermore," Jon continued, his gaze sweeping across the gathered lords, "Ser Loras Tyrell, the Lord Commander of Renly's Kingsguard, took action against his own order. He slew several members of the Kingsguard, further adding to the uncertainty and chaos surrounding Renly's demise."
The room erupted in a cacophony of voices as the significance of these events reverberated through the minds of the assembled nobles. Some lords dismissed the events in the Reach, arguing that their focus should remain on their own pressing concerns. Others, with strategic minds and an understanding of the delicate balance of power, recognized the potential opportunities and risks that arose from this sudden development.
Jon's voice cut through the rising tumult, commanding attention once more. "While the situation in the Reach may seem distant to some, we cannot afford to disregard its potential impact on our own campaign," he declared firmly. "The death of Renly Baratheon has shifted the dynamics of power and alliances in the realm. We must evaluate the situation carefully and consider the implications for our ongoing struggle against House Lannister."
The nobles exchanged thoughtful glances, their expressions mirroring the weight of the decision before them. The room grew quiet once more as they contemplated the complex web of politics and warfare that now entangled the Seven Kingdoms.
Rody, standing among the gathered lords, felt a mix of uncertainty and determination wash over him. The path ahead had become even more treacherous and uncertain, but he knew that their cause remained steadfast. The fate of the realm hung in the balance, and the decisions made in this very hall would shape the course of history.
Amidst the fervor, a Riverlander noble stepped forward, his voice trembling with anticipation. "And the contents of the second missive, Your Highness?" he inquired, his eyes fixed on Robb.
A brief moment of silence followed, punctuated by Robb's steely gaze. Rody's heart quickened, sensing that the news contained within the second missive carried a weight even greater than before.
Robb's gaze swept across the room, his eyes reflecting the gravity of the news contained within the second missive. The silence lingered, thick with anticipation, before Robb finally broke the stillness.
"The second missive reveals that King Eddard Stark was grievously wounded during a treacherous attack. Tywin Lannister's hired sellswords ambushed his party after a peace talk," Robb announced, his words reverberating through the hall.
Gasps of shock and outrage erupted from the gathered lords. The room seemed to tremble with the weight of their emotions as they absorbed the news. Rody's heart clenched with worry for his king, and his gaze instinctively sought out Robb and Jon, who bore the weight of this burden with stoic determination.
Robb's voice quivered slightly as he continued, "However, there is a glimmer of hope amidst this darkness. King Eddard Stark has survived his injuries and is expected to recover. The combined forces of the Riverlands and the North continue to hold their ground against the Lannisters."
A collective sigh of relief swept through the hall, mingled with expressions of determination. The news of King Eddard's survival brought a renewed sense of purpose, and the nobles' eyes blazed with a fierce resolve.
Lord Rickard Stark rose from his seat, his voice filled with steely determination. "My lords, in light of these events, it is clear that our priorities have shifted," he declared. "Sieging Casterly Rock no longer holds the same significance. We must swiftly retreat to the Golden Tooth and then march to Harrenhal to reinforce our army."
Nods of agreement rippled through the room as the nobles recognized the necessity of their new course of action. The urgency of supporting their forces in the Riverlands took precedence over any other consideration.
As the murmurs of agreement to retreat to the Golden Tooth began to fill the room, there was a sudden interruption. Ludd Whitehill, a Northern lord known for his uncompromising nature, rose to his feet with a determined expression etched on his face. His voice cut through the air, commanding attention.
"This slight must be answered properly," Ludd declared with conviction, his eyes piercing through the gathered lords. "We sit here, in one of the most important places in the Westerlands. Lannisport has stood as a symbol of Lannister power for centuries. We should raze the city to the ground and leave nothing but ashes in our wake. Let them feel the weight of their own arrogance!"
Nods of agreement rippled among many of the Northern lords, their eyes reflecting a shared desire for vengeance. The Riverlander nobles, however, exchanged worried glances, their expressions revealing their hesitation.
Rody, impassioned by a sense of justice and honor, rose to his feet, his voice filled with determination. "My lords, while I understand the anger and frustration that we all feel, we must not abandon our principles and descend into savagery," he implored. "Killing everyone, including innocent civilians, would stain our cause and tarnish the honor of our houses."
His words were met with a mixture of agreement and dissent. Some Riverlander nobles echoed Rody's sentiments, emphasizing the need to uphold their honor and avoid unnecessary bloodshed. Others, swayed by the Northern lords' call for retribution, argued that the Lannisters deserved no mercy.
Before the disagreement could escalate further, Lord Mallister rose to his feet, his presence commanding attention. The room fell silent, waiting to hear his words.
"I understand the rage that burns within each of us," Lord Mallister began, his voice carrying a weight of wisdom. "But we cannot simply kill everyone who resides within Casterly Rock. There are innocent lives caught in the web of this conflict. However, there must be consequences for the Lannisters' actions."
He paused, allowing his words to sink in, before continuing. "I propose a different course of action. Let us force the inhabitants of Lannisport to abandon their home, stripping the city of its wealth and power. Then, we shall reduce the city to ashes, a symbol of their defeat and a warning to any who dare to defy us."
The room was filled with a mix of tension and contemplation. Lord Mallister's proposal offered a middle ground between total annihilation and complete restraint. Some lords, who initially leaned towards extreme measures, found themselves swayed by the reasoned approach, while others remained resolute in their belief that total destruction was the only path to justice.
As the debate unfolded, Rody watched the exchange between Lord Rickard Stark and Robb with growing concern. Their whispered conversation seemed fraught with determination, causing his heart to quicken with apprehension. What were they discussing? What decision weighed so heavily upon them? Rody strained to catch their words, but their quiet tones prevented him from discerning the details.
The room buzzed with fervent arguments and impassioned pleas, yet Rody's attention remained fixed on Robb. The crown prince's brow furrowed, his face a mask of contemplation as he absorbed the varying opinions voiced by the lords. Rody could sense a storm brewing beneath the surface, a hidden fury that mirrored the wintry landscape of the North.
Then, with a sudden and resounding thud, Robb's fist struck the table, jolting Rody from his thoughts. The room fell into a hushed silence, all eyes turning to the young Stark as he prepared to address the assembly. Rody's gaze locked with Robb's, his heart pounding in anticipation of the prince's decision.
"I have heard your arguments, my lords," Robb declared, his voice carrying the weight of authority. Rody leaned in, straining to catch every word that followed. He sensed a mix of determination and compromise in Robb's tone, a delicate balancing act between justice and pragmatism.
Robb continued, explaining their course of action, the plan proposed by Lord Mallister. Rody's heart stirred with relief as he heard the measured approach, the avoidance of unnecessary bloodshed. The fate of Lannisport hung in the balance, and Robb's words sought a path that would both hold the Lannisters accountable and preserve their own honor.
As the room absorbed Robb's decision, Rody felt a sense of clarity wash over him. Though some lingering doubts remained, he recognized the wisdom in their chosen path. The relief was palpable, tempered by the awareness that challenges still lay ahead.
Robb's gaze swept across the chamber, encompassing the lords who had gathered. Rody caught the intensity in his eyes, a reflection of the weight they all carried. "Let our actions be guided by justice and tempered with mercy," Robb's voice echoed through the chamber, reaching deep into Rody's core.
In that moment, Rody understood the significance of their role. Their duty extended beyond vengeance; it encompassed the protection of their homes, the preservation of their principles. Rody nodded, a renewed sense of purpose taking hold within him. They would march forward, united in their cause, guided by the words and actions of their prince.
As Rody looked around the room, meeting the gaze of his fellow lords, he felt a surge of determination. Together, they would navigate the treacherous path before them, bound by their shared commitment to vengeance and the hopes of a better future.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone