DAGGERS TO THE HEART Part 1 - GAME OF THRONES

Robb IV

Following the accord with Lord Umber, Robb understood that replicating his success was improbable across the board. He possessed a list of anticipated events, but its foresight would diminish as he continued his journey. The most momentous occurrences, unforeseeable and beyond prediction, included Robert's death, Renly's demise, and the appearance of the comet. His fervent hope was he had garnered sufficient support from the lords before Renly's death. Though not imperative, the backing of the northern lords could prove advantageous in Jon's pursuit of the Iron Throne, particularly if the wildlings' allegiance couldn't be relied upon.

Upon reaching Karhold, an austere and formidable stronghold surrounded by woods, Robb was met in the courtyard by Rickard Karstark. Rickard, a tall and gaunt figure with a stern countenance, sported a thick grey beard and matching flowing hair. Even in his own domain, he wore black chainmail and a black woollen surcoat bearing the Karstark sigil of a white sunburst.

The reception at Karhold lacked the grandeur and warmth of Greatjon Umber's welcome. Robb suspected that Lord Rickard had already received word of the purpose of his visit. Nevertheless, Robb had a task at hand, and whether or not he secured immediate support, he aimed to persuade Lord Rickard that the threat posed beyond the wall eclipsed that of the wildlings.

Lord Karstark offered no feast, citing a lack of provisions for the unexpected visit. Robb knew the visit was no surprise; it had been planned for months, and Lord Rickard was well aware of it. The man was simply being obstinate.

The pair convened in Rickard's solar, with Greywind accompanying them, to discuss what Robb perceived to be the wildling problem. Robb had been at Karhold for a day already, yet he hadn't spoken with Lord Karstark since their meeting in the courtyard. The welcome thus far had been as frosty as the weather. At least the solar was warm; a sizeable hearth cradled a welcoming fire, casting light across the room with its flames.

"Lord Robb," Rickard said, gesturing to the plain but sturdy wooden chair opposite his own, a large wooden desk separating them.

"This came a sennight ago from Lord Umber," Rickard said as Robb opened the scroll to read it.

Rickard

Robb Stark claims the King will soon die from a hunting accident, run through by a boar. This was foreseen by his sister, who he claims to be a seer. Should this come to pass, I have agreed to listen to his council. Should the next prediction come to pass, I will support his campaign. I am writing to you as I know he is riding for Karhold.

Lord Greatjon Umber

Robb's eyes scanned the letter, noting the straightforward words etched on the parchment. Rickard Karstark sat across from him, a stern figure with a countenance as unyielding as the stone walls that enclosed them. The solar, though warmed by the crackling fire, offered little in the way of hospitality.

The message from Lord Umber hung in the air, a pact sealed in ink. Robb carefully rolled the scroll and looked up, meeting Rickard's gaze. The silent exchange conveyed more than words could. The northern lords were a stoic breed, and alliances were forged in the crucible of necessity, not sentiment.

"Lord Umber has pledged his support," Rickard stated, breaking the silence that had settled between them.

"Aye," Robb replied, his voice steady. "For now, we share a common cause."

The Lord of Karhold leaned back in his chair, his eyes studying Robb's face for nuances that might reveal more than words. The game of thrones was not played solely in the south; its echoes resonated even in these colder realms.

"Your sister's visions," Rickard began, his tone measured, "are they to be our guiding light?"

Robb leaned back in his chair, pondering the implications that rippled across the continent. The scroll was returned to Lord Karstark, the parchment a vessel of fate in their hands.