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CHP 12: Awe & Respect
🕑 Added 2024-08-09 13:58:39 +0000 UTCRobb Stark treaded across the walkway overseeing the main courtyard with hurried, almost desperate, footsteps on his way to confirm if the one bit of good news he'd received in such a dreadful time was true.
He passed armed men, older than himself, bearing the Sigil of House Stark, a House he now led after what the bastard King Joffrey had done to his father, Eddard Stark... Robb had steeled himself, but was still understandably nervous.
He'd known the day he would have to rule would come eventually but not this soon, and most certainly not like this... It was a prospect he hadn't even considered but now, he would have to lead tens of thousands of men into war... with his mother missing.
If a dynasty could be ended over love, then why could the North not wage war against injustice?
It made him nervous, but he steeled himself, maintaining a stoic expression much like his father's as men bowed and paid their respects... His blue eyes briefly flickered to them, and he acknowledged them with a small nod of his head.
A Stark couldn't show weakness... Perhaps, if his sisters truly were here, then he'd have a moment to be himself... but that moment wasn't now.
Robb found his attention drawn to the lean form of Theon Greyjoy.
Dressed in a coat and leather pants, he was leaning over the wooden railings and observing a commotion down below with a somewhat sadistic grin etched on his thin lips.
"What's so interesting, Theon?"
Theon Greyjoy was the sole living son and heir of House Greyjoy, whose numbers were quelled after they rebelled against the Iron Throne, and Theon himself was taken as a ward by Eddard Stark, raised as his own son.
One might have thought that Robb and he would harbour feelings of discontent for one another but nay, Robb thought of Theon as a brother in all but blood, believing fully that the latter thought the same of him.
"Oh nothing..." Theon briefly looked over his shoulder, nodding his head slightly before running his fingers through his dark hair, "Someone thought challenging the Greatjon to fisticuffs was a bright idea. Come on, take a look."
Well... that was an incredibly stupid idea... but in a way, brave?
Robb knew he wouldn't do such a thing of his own will.
"I'd like to." He answered calmly, "But I have matters to attend to."
"Oh come on, it'll take a moment at best. How long do you reckon this 'bout' will last?" Theon countered, flashing him a small grin, "You need a laugh, brother. It'll do you well."
Robb nodded again and walked up to Theon, "Be that as it may..."
A strange sight greeted his eyes, his words trailing off.
Surrounded in a makeshift gauntlet composed of the hardy bodies of Northmen clad in winter coats and thick cloaks, was Greatjon Umber, a giant of a man... but that was a sight Robb wasn't unused to, no, his challenger was the odd one.
With short, almost colourless blonde hair shaved neatly at the sides, he stood almost as tall as the Greatjon himself, but with much less thickness to his body... The odd thing was, he was grinning toothily, brimming with excitement at the prospect of being broken into two?
"Come at me, lad!"
"Where do you folks even get that boy thing? Do I look like a boy?" The unknown challenger quipped back as the two men began circling each other.
Greatjon grinned, "By the time I'm finished with ya, you're gonna be a lass."
What happened next was something Robb believed none of the onlookers were expecting.
The two men rushed at each other, grabbing at each other with their arms.
The first shock came when they came to a standstill, neither even flinching as they pushed against each other. Which was unbelievable enough, until Robb saw the Greatjon's feet slowly leave the clean training grounds, rising into the air.
"What in the seven hel-"
Before Theon could express his shock, Greatjon was sent flying through the air.
A giant of a man, one who'd possibly never be brought down by lessers, was, quite literally, flung through the air until he crashed into one of the brick walls and skidded to the ground with eyes that seemed to convey his own shock.
The jeers and laughter from the onlookers disappeared in a way one would think they'd seen a ghost... And to be honest, this wasn't all that different.
Robb's eyes widened as much as they could, but even then, he maintained his composure, putting both hands on the railings, "...Who is that?"
The so-called stupid challenger turned to look at his surroundings with a smug grin, one that he'd earned the right to have, in all fairness.
"Do that to the King, out his castle window." He smiled, barely having broken a sweat.
Then, in proper Northern fashion, loud shouts and congratulatory roars thundered in the courtyard.
Even Robb smiled slightly at the boosted morale of his men, moreso because the strength of the Greatjon was such that none could question it.
"...Who is that?" Robb asked in a low voice.
"I think he's the one that brought Arya and Sansa here." Theon replied in an estranged tone, still processing what he'd witnessed.
Robb looked at his dear friend stoically, "You've seen them then?"
Theon didn't answer, he only nodded.
"That man just lost me a lot of coin."
Shaking his head, Robb started walking again, his lips dry from the sheer noise his men had started making.
-
With a smile, I counted my winnings with Benford sitting by my side on a bench, muttering to himself about monsters or something... I didn't bother asking.
Once I challenged Jon Umber to a fight, people naturally started taking and making bets... There wasn't much to do for entertainment in these times so I joined in on the fun.
The prospect of Greatjon breaking my back over his knee was so expected that none had bet in my favour... except Benford for some odd reason, so I bet on myself to win, staking all the coin I'd looted from the dead Lannisters I'd left at the Ivy Inn.
And when I won, I'd taken everything.
At the same time, I'd also garnered awe and respect from the Northmen with my actions... A thing I didn't particularly need but welcomed all the same after my time in the Lands Between.
Even the nobility seemed joyous and welcoming.
I'd been hated and feared as a heretic traitor... so being offered drinks and the likes was a good change.
The Greatjon himself had the most surprising reaction out of them all.
"Hahahaha! Good lad! Next time I'm going to throw you!" Greatjon bellowed from across me, scratching his thick beard before gulping down a flagon of ale, "Or better, I'm going to snap your back!"
It was odd to consider that this man was the head of House Umber, one of the largest Houses of the North, and one who could field numbers many would think impossible.
"Aye!!" One of the men sitting nearby raised his drink, before gulping it all down, "But next time I bet on Karl! My old lady will tan my hide otherwise!"
"True that!"
His comment was met with a round of laughter.
The Northmen were simple, and simple was good.
"Benford, come on, what's got you so shaken?" I nudged the kid with my elbow.
He looked at me, but only for a few seconds at best, before returning to his own mumblings, "Sixty silver stags... Seventy... One hundred?"
I had no idea what had gotten into him.
"Bah!" Greatjon interrupted me, "His balls haven't dropped is all. We're going to war, lad. No one's going to look down on you for a whore or two."
Maybe banging somebody would really set Benfred right?
But, enough messing around, I needed an audience with Robb Stark, the new Lord... but also confirmation.
I leaned onto the plank table between us, staring at Greatjon, "Is it true then? Eddard Stark is dead?"
The giant's gaze sharpened and he smashed his cup down on table, splintering it into a mess that dug into his own skin, drawing blood, "The bastard sent us our Lord's head, and told us to swear fealty in place of the 'traitor', fucking cunt bastard."
I pursed my lips.
This was a realm of stupidity beyond stupidity... He could have twisted the accounts in a way that may have avoided a massive war but... to send the man’s severed head to his family?
Bloodier wars were waged for less.
"I didn't know that..." I admitted calmly.
"I don't blame you for it." Greatjon answered before shouting for more drink.
To be honest, I... didn't know how to feel about the information.
If he'd listened and let me stay, I could've ended Joffrey's whole lineage in a fraction of a second... but he didn't.
At the same time, we weren't close, I didn't feel anything for him beyond a modicum of respect for putting his daughters first, something even Marika stood to learn from.
I owed nothing to the Starks, if anything, I had to admit that a war of this magnitude would make my stay in this world interesting beyond measure... More so because it was a war I could end with a single action.
But... Marika was Joffrey stupid.
With this one action, he'd thrust the whole realm into war.
What did he even think would happen if he did something like this?
-
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