Catelyn Stark stepped between us before anyone could actually lose a limb. She looked like she hadn't slept in a week, pale, eyes bloodshot, her face a mask of pure anxiety. She was terrified for Robb, and having two of his best fighters pulling knives on each other right outside his tent wasn't helping her stress levels.
"You two," she said, her voice shaking but firm. "We're about to go into a massive battle. Can you please save that energy for the Lannisters instead of trying to kill your own team?"
Dacey Mormont huffed and stepped back, sheathing her sword with a metallic snick. I didn't push it. I gave Catelyn a respectful nod and signaled Abel to move out.
Poor Catelyn, I thought as we walked away. She has no idea her husband is about to get a haircut he won't survive.
Back at the Karstark camp, the vibe was a lot darker.
I walked into my dad's tent and found him sitting in the shadows, staring at Toren's body. Toren was laid out on a fur blanket, his right hand missing and a nasty hole in his neck where Jaime's sword had found its mark. Rickard looked like he'd already been buried and dug back up. He was a ghost of a man, fueled entirely by spite.
"Eddard," he rasped, his voice sounding like dry leaves blowing over a grave. "Go tell Robb I'm taking the job. But I want five hundred horse archers. No, send Morrison to tell him. You stay here. We're leaving Toren behind when we move out. We'll come back for him later."
I sat down across from him, not saying a word. The "memories" I'd gotten from the original Eddard were still coming in like low-res video clips. I didn't feel the soul-crushing grief Rickard did, but I knew my role.
"We're going to make them pay, Eddard," Rickard whispered. "Even if they trade the Kingslayer for the Duke and those girls... five Lannisters are going in the ground for your brother. Not soldiers. Lannisters."
"I'm on it, Dad," I said, keeping my voice low and steady. "We'll get them."
The Northern army was a well-oiled machine of hype. After the Whispering Wood, every guy with a sword thought they were invincible. They were laughing, sharpening their axes, and talking about Lannisters like they were just target practice.
As the sun started to dip, the banners began to move. The Stark wolf led the way, followed by the Umber giant, the Mormont bear, and finally, our white sunburst. We rode past Fairmarket, crossed rivers, and cut through dense forests, killing every enemy scout we came across. By the time the moon was up, we were in position north of Riverrun.
The Lannisters had no idea we were coming. They were still patting themselves on the back for winning the earlier battles in the Riverlands. They thought they were the ones doing the besieging.
"Target ahead," Abel whispered.
He was my squad's designated "night vision" guy. He saw them before I did a team of Lannister scouts in their flashy red-and-gold gear.
I didn't hesitate. I reached into my quiver, pulled out a javelin, and put everything I had into the throw.
Thwack.
The spear caught the scout right between the shoulder blades. He let out a choked scream and tumbled off his horse.
"Go! Go! Go!" I hissed.
The rest of the squad moved like ghosts. Karas Snow lunged forward with his spear, catching one guy in the side. Abel intercepted another, throwing him off balance just long enough for Karas to finish the job. Dita Calandre was already off her horse, firing arrows with machine-gun precision into a third guy's mount. The horse went down, and Marm was on the rider in seconds, swinging his axe with a terrifying grin.
"All clear, Boss," Abel reported, wiping blood off his spear. "That's the third team we've cleared out."
Marm was busy hacking the heads off the dead scouts to hang from his saddle. To him, those were trophies and literal cash bonuses from Robb. Lando and Karas were busy rounding up the Lannister warhorses. Those things were worth gold dragons on the open market.
"Check the bodies for jewelry or purses," Dita said, already looting the first corpse. "No point in letting it rot."
I looked at the pile of bodies in the bushes. I expected to feel sick, or at least a little guilty, but there was nothing. Just a mild "ugh" feeling. Maybe it was the system, or maybe this world was just rubbing off on me. Death was everywhere here; you either got used to it or you were the next body in the pile.
We had a job to do. Robb wanted the Karstarks to loop south and block Ser Forley Prester's retreat. Prester had 4,000 men - half spearmen, half archers and we had 300 riders and 500 horse archers.
It was a total suicide mission if we fought fair. So, I wasn't going to fight fair.
"Status report," I muttered.
[Squad members promoted to Rank 1: Descendant of the First Men][Strength +10%, Constitution +5%]
I felt the stat boost hit me as my men leveled up. They looked bigger, more confident. We'd cleared the scouts, and now it was time for the "Ghost Army" play.
I'd spent the last few hours gathering every spare rope I could find. My plan was simple: use the 100 archers I'd been assigned to set up a massive illusion in the eastern forest. We'd tie ropes to the trees and bushes. When the Lannisters tried to retreat, we'd pull the ropes, making it look like a thousand men were hiding in the woods.
Prester was a cautious guy. If he thought the eastern road was an ambush, he'd veer south right into the path of my dad and the rest of the Karstark cavalry.
We'd spend the night playing mind games, and then we'd start the slaughter.
"Archers in position?" I asked.
"Hidden and ready, Young Master," Abel said.
I looked toward the Lannister campfires in the distance. "Alright. Let's see if this 'Lion' is as smart as he thinks he is."