Moat Cailin, the first day of the fourth moon, 282 AC.
Torrhen looked at them once strong fortress of defense, the Moat Cailin, where all the Andals failed to cross. Its unassailable marshes slowed the Invader's march and the castle's formidable tall towers held high on the invasion. Now, it's a broken castle, long gone of its uses and magnificent legends. 'He who holds the Moat holds the North'.
But he turned to the lively camp of the Northern host, seeing the different tents of different Houses. The Umber's four chains connected in a ring, Mormont's standing bear, the Glover's iron gauntlet, the Manderly's Merman holding his trident, the Bolton's flayed man. and... the Karstark's white sunburst. Others are probably on the road, maybe a day or two rides away. The Cerwyns, the Hornwoods, the Tallhart, the Dustins, the Flints, the Lockes, the Ryswells are not here yet. But the most prominent sigil of all, the Stark's grey wolf in a green field, the House that paramount all other Houses, the House which defeated all the kings of the North and won all of them, submitting them to their rules.
Torrhen hurriedly walked to the Stark tent, where, hopefully, he can find his friend, now the Lord Stark of Winterfell. He burst into the room, expecting his friend inside. And he is, but with so many others, the Lords of the North.
Ned turned away his focus on the map, eyed the visitor, who interrupted their battle plans, but seeing it was his friend, he smiled. He was about to speak, when Lord Karstark harshly berated, "What are doing, boy! You're disturbing Lord Stark."
Torrhen scoffed, "Your looks are disturbing enough, brother." He turned his attention from his red-faced brother to his smiling friend, albeit awkwardly, "Did Robert departed from Storm's End?"
Ned smiled faded, "Aye, but their number dwindle fighting loyalist forces, namely Lord Fell, Lord Cafferen, Lord Grandison. They battled at Summerhall, and though Robert won all of them, Lord Randyll Tarly ambushed them at Ashford. They were retreating, when Lord Mace Tyrell's bulk forces chased them at their backs, but Robert quickly retreated his forces north." He sighed, "Thankfully, Lord Mace Tyrell did not give chase, and instead besieged Storm's End."
"And by besiege, means eating and drinking in front of the castle gates of Storm's End." Jon "Greatjon" Umber laughed, slapping his laps. "The fat flower thinks he defeated the Stag's forces, boasting about his great achievement and stealing his bannerman's merit."
Torrhen nodded, a very serious look on his face, "And Robert?"
"Injured, but still drinking, as said in his letters," Ned said with a small smile, before continuing. "He's going north, probably recover at Stoney Sept... and Lord Hoster Tully has half a mind to stay neutral."
"There's a price, isn't it?" Torrhen said.
Ned was crestfallen, "Aye, honor Hoster's and my father's agreement. I need to marry his eldest daughter, Brandon's betroth, Catelyn Tully."
Torrhen gritted his teeth, "That opportunistic bastard. I'll bury his head on rivers, see if he can survive, the trout waggling his big mouth in it." He turned to Ned, "...And? What do you plan to do, Ned?"
"...I'll do it." His eyes turned to Torrhen, "We need his army to win this war."
Torrhen sighed, but he nodded. "In any case, Brandon said about his betroth's large teats. At least, you've got that in return."
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Seagard, the eighteenth day of the fourth moon, 282 AC.
Three days was wasted for the Northern House to gather at Moat Cailin, and after another two weeks of riding, the Northern army finally crossed the Twins.
"D*mn that old man! Another opportunistic bastard." Torrhen growled. Lord Walder Frey made them sit on their asses for two weeks, maybe longer if the raven to Riverrun did not arrive. The Lord of Riverrun commanded Lord Frey to let the Northern Host on their damn bridge. And how did it take two weeks? Because Frey men shoot every raven that flies over their castle.
He delayed the Northern host, and the Northern Lord wanted to butcher the Freys for delaying them, but Ned did not agree, as this would break the trust with Hoster Tully. Attacking his bannerman will be seen as betrayal, not that what they're doing is already betrayal. Usurping is another word for betrayal, after all.
But Torrhen wanted to secretly use his Philosopher's Stone to destroy the damn bridge in secret, but decided against it in the end, as the bridge has no-fault and it will be a complete waste of soul energy of the stone.
Now, they are traveling within the Mallister Territory, five days ride to Riverrun. the agreement is simple, marry the Eldest Tully, get to the Stony Sept to retrieve Robert, and finally, march to king's Landing. Simple, but takes a long time to do and probably longer from an unexpected event.
And the Vale finally reunited in arms, killing Marg Grafton, a Targaryen loyalist. Lord Jon Arryn will meet the Northern Host to Riverrun, supplying their rebel forces with 25,000 Vale soldiers for their 30,000 Northern soldiers.
"If I get to chose castle, I would choose to destroy that bridge of his and build a new one. A much prettier one." Torrhen said.
"No more complaining, Torrhen. We don't have time to think about the past." Ned said.
Torrhen grumbled but nodded. Ever since the end of the Tourney, Torrhen was prone to anger, grumpy all the time.
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Riverrun, the fifth day of the fifth moon, 282 AC.
The Northern host was amazed by the Tully forces and Vale forces outside the castle of Riverrun. The Tully forces must be range into some 20,000 to 25,000.
"Go on, Ned. I'll manage the forces. You go and talk with the bastard and our foster-father." Torrhen said.
Ned nodded, "Aye, thank you for being on my side, Torrhen."
"It's Ser Torrhen to others, but a friend to you, Ned." Torrhen laughed.
Ned entered the drawbridge of Riverrun, seeing the high defense of the castle by being built on a strategize position, the rivers of Red Fork and Tumblestone. With the rivers, Riverrun is protected by its natural moat. The only way in is the drawbridge, then the portcullis.
"Right, set up camp!"
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