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GOT : Chapter 192
🕑 Added 2025-03-03 10:00:07 +0000 UTC"And blocks Moat Cailin as smallfolk start to realise the folly of trying to cross the Neck," Harlon Knott, a Mountain Clansmen with a thick, brown, beard and long hair scoffed. "They run south, and then realise that south of Moat Cailin lies the graveyard of the Andals, with swamps as far as the eyes can see."
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"Did Marlon Manderly not complain about this a few days ago?" asked Lyessa Flint. "If so, it presents another problem for the defense of the Moat, especially with the Reachers and Dornish taking quarters there.
"One at a time, please!" Catelyn calmed everyone down. "Yes, there is the problem of the bottleneck of Moat Cailin, but there are solutions. First of all, the empty carriages that carried grain from the south will be used to carry the smallfolk from the Neck towards the Twins. As many as possible, but also enough to not be a hindrance to the constant supply of food and weapons."
Catelyn paused. She also knew that such displacements would be a massive loss for the North if they were to win the war. Most of the resettled populations likely would not like to come back to their devastated lands and simply choose to settle in Blackwood lands in the Riverlands, Royce lands in the Vale, or any other lands that let them worship the Old Gods in peace. And there would be many that would welcome these new faces in the Riverlands after the hardships of these past years.
"As for the Kingsroad, its defense and proper circulation will be enforced by Lord Reed's Crannogmen, along with my brother's forces and the Crown's forces," Catelyn added. "Therefore, you can consider this point to be moot. The issue we have at hand, though, is the overcrowding of castles on the Wall, which goes directly against my orders!"
"I don't want any wildlings on my lands," the Smalljon gruffly replied.
Harrion Karstark nodded. "Neither would I."
Catelyn resisted the urge to slap them both. The issue of the wildlings was one that was long resolved, or at least, resolved in her mind. Anyone without a weapon and more suited to agricultural tasks would be put on Stark lands, or houses that wished to accommodate them. No one was forced into anything.
As for the warriors, they were lined at the Wall, in each castle. About twenty thousand warriors in total, enough to man a few castles. Then, how in the seven hells were they overcrowded?
"No one is talking about letting any wildlings through," Catelyn gruffly pointed out. "What I wish to know, is how each castle on the Wall is putting a strain on our reserves. Surely, we have enough castles to garrison elsewhere?"
"Orders take time to travel from Winterfell to Castle Black, especially in this weather, Lady Regent," Ser Leobald Tallhart politely replied. "And then, from Castle Black, they have to be dispatched elsewhere. Everything takes a lot of time, and when we have sorted it, more problems arise."
"More problems that could be easily solved if everyone followed the predetermined instructions instead of absolutely wishing to be the first to slay an Other." Catelyn sighed. "Send for the five hundred men stuck at Torches and Long Barrow and move them back to Last Hearth.
They are taking enough of a strain on our already stretched lines. As for Brandon Lightfoot's men, I wish to move them out of Eastwatch and back to Last Hearth as well. His six hundred men are appreciated, but I do not wish them to overcrowd Eastwatch when the Braavosi and Lorathi are already finding it hard to find shelter. Find a messenger and be quick about it!"
Leobald Tallhart inclined his head and left the room, leaving Catelyn to have to deal with the rest of the lords.
"Right, as it stands, how many more men can Last Hearth and Karhold take?" she asked.
The Smalljon bowed. "Last Hearth can probably sustain another thousand men, Lady Regent.""Karhold can sustain five thousand. We have not been very solicited." Harrion Karstark bit his lip.
"Good. Well, the Lychester and Bracken men will go to Last Hearth, and Karhold can have the Freys, Waynwoods, Royces and the small contingent of Westermen that arrived yesterday." Catelyn breathed a sigh of relief. At least she would not have to worry about them.
Winterfell, mighty as it was, already hosted twenty thousand warriors and would soon greet twice as many more. All for the defence of the heart of the North…
In any case, there was not much else to be done. Count the barrels of wine, count the sacks of grain, count the men, the swords, the axes, the hammers, the arrows...and the number of smallfolk who had left.
A trying task, but one where she did not have to bear the burden alone. She had dozens of girls who knew their numbers helping her in this task, mostly lowborn or merchants' daughters.
Gods knew this was an endeavor, but one she was proud to have brought to fruition. These girls came from all over the North, and even some from the Riverlands. She doted on them as if they were her daughters, educating them on the political classes of the North, teaching them numbers and letters…she felt like her pride had swollen as they began to work to direct the massive undertaking the North was doing.
The women were not the only ones put to work. Every abled-bodied man or child that could not hold a weapon or was not training or resting was assigned to work on rebuilding Winterfell's defenses after what the Turncloak had done to them.
Surely, while Winterfell is not as proud as before, it is slowly making its way towards that goal.
Catelyn looked at the paper in front of her, and kept making her way down the lists. All of the points she wished to address had been discussed, the only thing remaining was to warn Ser Marlon Manderly of the arrival of the Reacher and Dornish hosts in the coming days, along with the Royal forces soon following.
Then, they would have amassed in the North what would probably be the largest fighting force the world had ever seen.
"I think, my lords, that this session of the Council is closed." Catelyn scratched her brow. "We can…"
Suddenly, the door flew open and Catelyn just sighed deeply. What kind of inconsiderate fool would barge in like this and not have the decency to close the door?
"Lady Regent!" the man, out of breath, called out to her.
Annoyed, Catelyn didn't flinch.
"What is it, ser?"
"I…" the man's chest heaved, clearly gasping for air.
"Well, come now, lad. Out with it!" Harrion Karstark laughed.
"You must come into the courtyard at once my lady. It is…unbelievable."
"What is?" Catelyn asked. "I have seen dead men and dragons, ser, I think I can stomach about anything. What are we dealing with?"
"It's…it's your son, Lady Regent. He's come back."
Catelyn's face suddenly drained of color as she and Arya rose almost simultaneously from the table.
"What are you saying?" she narrowed her eyes.
"It's…it's him, Lady Regent. You must come."
Catelyn did not even think twice about that. Any hope she could get, she would. And if it turned out that the poor lad just confused another crippled boy with her son…well that was just another disappointment she would have to live with.
Escorted by several guards, she made her way with Arya and Rickon down towards the courtyard, where quite the crowd had assembled.
Once everyone realized Catelyn arrived, the crowd parted to reveal a young girl with brown hair, along with a chariot with a lot of furs…and then her heart almost stopped.
In it, her son, little Bran, was there, sitting without a care in the world.
Catelyn raced towards the cart, and immediately jumped into Bran's arms, hugging him tightly.
"Bran!" she clutched him in her arms, hugging him tightly. "Gods, I thought we had lost you for good. I thought you were…"
"Lady Stark!" the girl called out to her. "There is no time!"
Catelyn wanted to shout at her, to tell her that she had no right to speak like that when she was seeing her son for the first time in…gods, years. The son she thought was long dead, that she wept over every night.
"Where did you come from?" Arya asked, wide-eyed.
"From beyond the Wall," Bran replied simply.
Catelyn stopped hugging him and looked him in the eyes.
"That can't be."
Bran spoke without the hint of any emotion, "Yet, that's where we were." "There have only been dead men past the Wall for the past weeks," Catelyn replied. "How could you have avoided them?"
"They were not there." Bran's answer was as cold as ice.
"And how did you even get here? Surely the Watch would have seen you."
"We came through the giant breach in the Wall," Bran continued.
Silence.
"Lady Stark, the Wall has fallen. The Nightfort is no more," The brown-haired girl said swiftly. "As I said, we have no time."
Catelyn's eyes widened.
"We would have had word. From the Wall, Queenscrown, Last Hearth, anywhere…"
"Magic," Bran answered. "The Great Other cloaks his army in a dark veil. An illusion forms to stop those who cannot see properly. One that will not last. But I can see properly, and I am warning you now. The dead have breached the Wall and are marching towards us, and you will not know of that until they set upon your castles. I can see, and I am warning you now. We must prepare for the fight that is coming."
"Ser Harrion?" Catelyn asked.
"Yes, Lady Regent?" the Karstark boy approached.
"Send word to every single castle, holdfast and fortified keep in the North, then the rest of the damn Seven Kingdoms. The dead are coming, prepare for war."
