12th Month of 299 A.C. Castle Black
Lord Robb Stark
It did not seem that long ago that he had been riding south for war, to avenge his father's death, truth be told it had not been that long ago, he had only managed to stay at home for a moon this time around, before his duties as Warden of the North had required him to muster the men who had not left Winterfell and march north to the wall. Robb had not wanted to go, not truly, he had wanted to spend more time with his wife and son, to get to know them better, to make love to Wynafryd, to sleep in his own bed, but duty had called, and Robb was not a man to shirk his duty, and so leaving his wife in charge of the running of Winterfell, he had marched north to Castle Black, bringing with him some twelve thousand men, the remnants of the host that had marched south alongside those northmen who had joined him now. His cousin Torrhen was amongst them, and where once Torrhen had been a cheerful lad, now he was grim and solemn, the heavy weight of being Lord of Barrowton and Lord of the Rills resting on his shoulders. It was a sad thing that, that war had robbed them all of their fathers and their childhoods, Robb was determined to ensure that the wildlings did not get the chance to do more damage.
Castle Black seemed to be in all kinds of chaos, Maester Luwin had not been lying when he had said that the Watch had been divided into two factions, and currently there was one faction, the one led by Allister Thorne in command of the castle and the Lord Commander, a man known by his friends as Dolorous Edd, a fitting name, given the man's grim personality. Robb marvelled at how far the Watch seemed to have broken down since the death of Lord Commander Jeor Mormont, something that had caused Beron, now Lord of Bear Island to snort in disgust. There seemed to be a lot of work that needed to be done before the Watch was even anywhere near ready to face whatever threat was coming toward them, but there did not seem to be any time to bring about such a change. As such Robb found himself having to hold the meetings together.
Yet another meeting being held in the Lord Commander's solar was looking as if it might erupt into a fight, and so Robb spoke, his voice firm. "My lords, we cannot argue and bicker over what to do with those wildlings that might look to seek sanctuary now. They are not the issue here, the issue is that there is a host of a sizeable amount coming towards the Wall commanded by Mance Rayder, a man who knows the Wall and the Watch and no doubt knows some of the tension that is within these walls. So tell me, what have your scouts learned Lord Commander?"
If he is being honest with himself, Robb is quite surprised that the Lord Commander actually answers his question, he had thought that someone else, most likely Thorne would answer that question. But, here he is, answering in that dulcet tone of his. "Well my lord Stark, our scouts seem to have gotten lost somewhere between leaving the wall and returning. The last piece of information we got from them was when they were somewhere near the Fist of the First Men, they reported that there were around eighty thousand wildlings under Mance Rayder's command coming toward the Wall, to take it."
"Eighty thousand men?!" Lord Umber exclaims. "How the bloody hell has Mance Rayder managed to get that many wildlings under his command?"
At this Bowen Marsh speaks. "Mance Rayder has a glib tongue my lords. He has no doubt made promises to the Wildlings about what they can expect when they cross the wall under him."
Robb sees Lord Umber's hand curl into a fist then, and he remembers that Lord Umber had lost a cousin to a wildling raid once. He runs a hand over his beard and asks. "Mance Rayder, how long did he serve at the Wall for?"
"Long enough to learn about the defences, long enough to know that nothing has really changed." Allister Thorne barks out.
Robb looks at the man and asks. "What do you mean by that Ser Allister?"
The man's lip curls into a snarl, and his voice is harsh when he replies. "What I mean is that he was always looking around, snooping around things, he will send men to scale the wall whilst others try to assault it from below. He will send men out to the east and to the west, and try and break us off."
"Then we do not allow him to do that." Robb responds simply.
"And what? Allow Wildlings to overwhelm our brothers at Eastwatch as well as at the Shadow Tower?" Thorne asks scornfully. "I think not. No wildlings will get through the wall, not as long as I live."
Robb looks at the man, feeling his temper beginning to grow slightly. "Ser Allister, forgive me if this sounds off putting, but you have just admitted that Mance Rayder will try and spread our forces out, so then why would you want to play into his hands? It is better to allow a few wildlings few and then break them off from their support, the main threat is where Mance Rayder is."
"I will not allow there to be a foothold for the Wildlings to emerge from." Thorne barks back. "We have been fighting the Wildlings for centuries, we shall not give them an inch."
"Then you will have eighty thousand wildlings at Castle Black without the resources to deal with them." Robb responds. "What is it if a few dozen wildlings manage to break through the defences elsewhere, the main body is here, we can deal with them. Kill Mance and they will break."
Thorne looks as if he is about to respond, when Bowen Marsh speaks. "Lord Stark is right Ser Allister. We cannot allow Mance Rayder to remain alive, and we both know what the Wildlings are like, if we kill their King they will fall and break. And besides, it does not matter how many men they have, they will have women and children as well, and that will hamper their strategy, furthermore, Lord Stark and his men are here, we have mounted fighters now, the wildlings will not know how to deal with that."
Thorne seems to want to argue the point, but instead he looks at Robb and asks. "How many men did you bring with you my lord?"
"Twelve thousand give or take. Enough mounted cavalry to cause issues for the wildlings, and enough spears to create even more issues." Robb responds. "The wildlings might have more numbers, but they do not have as much skill as we do."
He can tell that Thorne is waging a war internally, he still finds it rather unsettling how it is Thorne or Marsh who is making the decisions at Castle Black and not the Lord Commander, who simply sits there and looks at them all as if this is some big joke, it angers him and worries him in equal turn. He finds himself wondering if the false Stark might have disappeared in amongst the brothers at the wall, or if he is somewhere else. He shakes his head and tries to refocus, just as he does that, Thorne speaks. "Very well then, I suppose then that we are to hold our positions here. Lord Commander, you might want to send ravens to the commanders of Eastwatch and The Shadow Tower to ensure that they know what to expect."
"Of course." The Lord Commander says. There is a brief pause, and then the Lord Commander speaks once more. "Lord Stark, do you know if the King might come himself to aid us?"
The question surprises Robb, the issue with the Wildlings does not seem to be a pressing one, at least not to Robb, so he is not sure why the King would need to come. "I am not sure; why do you ask Lord Commander?"
He sees a look pass between the Lord Commander and his two main commanders, and wonders at it. "Nothing, I was merely wondering, it would do the lads well to see the King and his dragons." The Lord Commander responds, in an oddly evasive tone.
Robb nods. "Well I shall see what I can do." With that the meeting comes to an end, and as he walks down the stairs, Robb says his farewells to the lords as well as the others and makes his way over to where Maester Aemon resides, the King's great, great uncle, it seems, and a man who has lived through a century as well, something remarkable in that. Robb has questions that he thinks only the maester could answer. He stops before the man's door, knocks and when he hears the man say enter, he opens the door and walks in. He stops before the man and says. "Maester Aemon, I hope I am not disturbing you."
"No, no of course not my lord. Please sit." The maester responds, gesturing to a chair.
Robb sits himself down in the chair, and then looks at the maester, the man is very old now, though his age seems to make him exude confidence and reassurance, not brittleness. The man might be blind, but Robb can still tell there is an exuberance in him, a desire for knowledge, eventually Robb speaks. "Did you manage to figure out anything more about what I had told you maester?"
"Ah, about the horn, yes I have done some reading, and what I have found suggests that it might well be an original creation from the Age of Heroes." The maester responds.
That information completely surprises Robb. "How… how do you know that for certain?" he asks.
"There are runes on the horn my lord, and whilst the First Men wrote their tales in runes, these runes are not like those. They are from a time when there was more development in society, when there was magic within the world." The maester responds.
Robb wants to laugh and dismiss the words the maester is telling him, but some part of him knows that what the man is saying is true. "Why was it in the Riverlands then? Where did the horn come from?"
The Maester chuckles softly. "You remind me a lot of your great grandfather my lord."
"You knew my great grandfather?" Robb asks surprised.
"Oh yes, I knew Lord Edwyle well, I knew him when he was a child, such an intelligent boy. But yes, that is not what you wanted to know." The maester responds, his voice becoming serious. "I think that the horn came from the north, it was created for one specific purpose, and as you have told me, it destroyed the army of the false Stark, though not without consequences. And now it is here, my lord, I believe you might have found the Horn of Joramun."
The Horn of Joramun, that woke the giants from stone. Robb thinks to himself and then he asks. "But, I thought that was merely a story. A story told to frighten children in the north."
"My lord, for many years' people thought that dragons were merely stories, and now the King has three dragons, a dragon of ice no less. I do not think it is as farfetched to believe that the horn you carry is the Horn of Joramun, and now that you have it, I must ask you intend to do with it?" the maester replies.
"I am not sure I understand what you mean maester." Robb responds.
"Well, are you going to use the horn or destroy it?" the maester asks.
"I… I do not know." Robb replies, though somewhere deep down, he thinks he might well know what he is going to do.