The Prince That Was Promised (Old Version)

Chapter 17: Plans of war

Howland Reed

King's Road South of Castle Cerywn

Howland walked through the camp toward the command tent. He had just returned from his latest meeting with the scouts, part of the news was a mix of good and bad.

The camp itself was unlike any he had ever seen. It wasn't just Northmen anymore, not like those who had marched south with Robb Stark. This army was a gathering of many kinds: giants, Freefolk, mountain clans, stormlanders, and even a few mercenaries now sworn to Shireen or Orys after they emerged from the pyre. Despite the fights that flared now and then, this army moved with one purpose: to free the North, to protect the realm from what was coming, and to bring justice for the wrongs done to both the North and to Orys's family.

Yet Howland couldn't help but wonder: what would become of this army when Orys's truth was revealed? And what would happen when they went south to set things right there? They would need all the help they could get against the threat to come. Even now, those blue eyes haunted his dreams.

Yet for now, it wasn't the most imminent problem.

Soon, he reached the tent. Orys's guards stood outside, one hundred picked men from the army. Most were Freefolk, now clad in mail and steel. They resembled mountain clansmen in both manner and appearance, though calling them similar would earn you a growl, or worse. The rest of the Hundred were a mix from all corners of the host.

"Lord Reed," one of the guards greeted, pulling open the tent flap.

Inside, a large table bore a map of the North and the lands just south of the Neck. Gathered around it stood Asher Forrester, Tormund Giantsbane, Maege Mormont, Galbart Glover, Vorrin Flint, Davos Seaworth, and in the center, Shireen and Orys side by side.

"Ah, my Lord Hand. Welcome. We were waiting for you. How did the scouts fare?" Orys asked. It still felt strange being called Lord Hand, but ever since Ironrath, Howland wore an iron hand pin painted Red. He was likely the first Reed, or crannogmen, to ever do so.

"Multiple reports. The scouts I sent toward Karhold returned the warg with them sent his eagle with a letter bearing the seal of House Karstark," Howland reported, handing the letter to Orys.

Orys opened it quickly, scanning its contents. "As we hoped. Lady Alys, together with the Thenns and the Skagosi, has taken Karhold and now marches on the Dreadfort. They seized the castle without losses, word of betrayal reached them, and Alys was able to take command with ease. The second son of Arnolf was captured. Apparently, Arnolf never returned with his other sons from the battle with Stannis, and his eldest son is now sworn to the watch." Orys smiled, and so did the others. Even Tormund, who despised Thenns, gave a nod of approval.

"She's got steel in her, that one, held herself strong when she and Sigmor rallied the Thenn." Tormund cackled softly and scratched his beard. "Not bad for a kneeler."

Orys smiled at the big chieftain but continued and sighed, "In that time, the younger son had proclaimed himself lord. The fool, with Alys and Harrion, still alive, as long as they live, no sons of Arnolf can inherit."

"Indeed, good news, Your Grace," Howland said. "With the Dreadfort under siege, if Roose and Ramsay Bolton escape the coming battle, they'll have nowhere to hide."

"Exactly as we planned," Orys agreed. "Once we retake Winterfell and crush the Boltons and their allies, the Dreadfort will likely surrender, as will Steedridge, the Ryswell seat. Reports say they sent most of their strength to the Dreadfort, as did Lady Barbrey Dustin. Theon gave us that much when he spoke with Stannis, though he betrayed everything my father taught him and stood for, at least he told us that."