Alaric's expression didn't so much as flicker. He held the old gaze for a long moment, the wind tugging at his cloak while he digested the news.
"Lady Stark," Alaric repeated quietly. He looked past Ser Rodrik toward the rear of the column, though the dust of their march obscured the view.
"Have the column halt for the evening and begin making camp," Alaric ordered, his voice steady and carrying the weight of command. "Once my tent is raised, escort Lady Catelyn to me. We will discuss whatever brings her out here in private."
Ser Rodrik gave a stiff, immediate nod, looking relieved to have a clear directive. "At once."
...
Soon as the tent as his tent was raised,
Alaric walked into the command tent, his boots caked in thick gray mud. He did not bother to clean them. He tossed his horse's reins to a stable boy and dropped into the heavy chair at the head of the map table.
Soon, the tent flap swung open.
Catelyn Stark walked past the Blood Knights stationed at the entrance and saw him sitting there like a king.
She stopped, unsure what to say.
"Welcome back, Lady Catelyn," he said, looking at her. He did not bother to stand up.
She stared at him. Then her eyes shifted and glanced at Roslin.
"Alaric, explain what you are trying to do," she said, standing in front of him.
Was she blind? Could she not see that he commanded an army here, preparing to march against the Lannisters?
Alaric shifted in his chair, keeping his voice carefully even. "What is it you are trying to say, Lady Stark? I am only doing exactly as Lord Eddard instructed me after you took Tyrion Lannister captive."
"Not to be rude," he added, "but everything happening now began with you."
Alaric leaned back in his chair, fingers resting on the edge of the map table.
"Lord Ned knew this would happen," he said. "He understood the risks the moment you seized Tyrion Lannister. Tell me, my lady, what did you gain from it? From the reports I have received, he has already escaped. So we carry the burden, and the Lannisters carry the story."
His gaze stayed steady on her, calm but sharp.
"You forced a move before the board was set. Now the everyone thinks we started this."
He paused, as if weighing his next words.
"I do not question your courage," he said at last. "But courage without foresight leaves others to clean the field after the charge."
His tone stayed polite, yet each word pressed harder than the last.
"You put us in a war we were not ready to fight. That is the truth of it."
He folded his hands together.
"And now you stand here asking what I am trying to do. I am trying to turn a reckless beginning into something that does not end in ruin."
Her jaw tightened.
"Obviously Tyrion Lannister was behind the attempt on Bran's life," she said. "How could I let him walk free after that?"
Alaric did not move. "And how do you know he was?"
She hesitated, then lifted her chin. "Petyr Baelish told me. He said the dagger used against Bran belonged to Tyrion."
A faint look crossed Alaric's face. Not surprise.
"Baelish," he repeated.
"Yes," she said. "He had no reason to lie."
Alaric let out a slow breath.
"Baelish has every reason to lie."
She frowned. "What are you saying?"
"I am saying," he replied, voice steady, "that Petyr Baelish sits in the capital. It was his false counsel that led Lord Ned into a trap. He promised the City Watch would stand with him. Instead, he turned them. That is why Lord Stark was captured."
The moment stretched.
"He betrayed your husband," Alaric went on. "And you trusted him over a Lannister you barely knew."
Silence filled the tent.
"You seized Tyrion because a man who profits from chaos whispered in your ear. Ask yourself, my lady—who truly gained from that arrest?"
He leaned forward now, eyes fixed on hers.
"Not us."
Ser Rodrik, who had stood silent behind her, shifted where he was. His brows drew together as if pieces had begun to fall into place.
"Wait," he said slowly. "What if the assassination attempt was never the Lannisters' doing at all?"
Both of them turned toward him.
"What if it was Baelish?" Ser Rodrik went on, voice gaining strength as the thought took shape. "He would have known Lady Stark would come south to ask questions."
Catelyn's eyes widened, but she said nothing.
"He tells her the dagger belongs to Tyrion," Ser Rodrik continued. "She acts on that. She arrests a Lannister. The Starks and Lannisters turn against each other. Chaos follows." He shook his head. "That sounds like a man who profits from disorder."
Alaric watched him with quiet approval.
"Yes," he said. "Baelish does not need armies. He needs only two sides ready to draw steel."
Ser Rodrik exhaled slowly, as if the weight of the realization had settled on him.
"Seven save us," he muttered. "We may have been led by the nose from the start."
Alaric's gaze returned to Catelyn.
Alaric's gaze stayed on Catelyn, steady and unyielding.
She was standing there silent and as if thinkin something inside her mind...
"My lady," he said, "this camp is no place for you. The North still stands because Winterfell stands. And Winterfell needs you."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "I will not hide behind stone walls while others bleed."
"This is not about hiding," he replied. "It is about duty."
He rose from his chair at last, slow and deliberate.
"Robb is not waking up. He needs his mother beside him. The lords will look to Winterfell for strength. If they find it uncertain, doubt will spread faster than any raven can fly."
Her expression faltered for the first time.
"You speak of war," Alaric continued. "Then understand this—war is not only fought with swords. It is held together by loyalty, by symbols, by the sight of a Stark ruling her own halls."
She looked away, her resolve shaken.
"He is alone," Alaric said. "And whether he wakes tomorrow or in a month, the first face he should see is yours."
Silence filled the tent.
Ser Rodrik lowered his head. "He would want you there, my lady."
Catelyn closed her eyes for a brief moment. The fight in her seemed to drain, replaced by something heavier.
"You will send word," she said quietly. "Every day."
"You will have it," Alaric answered.
She gave a small nod, though it cost her pride.
"I will return to Winterfell," she said at last.
Alaric inclined his head.
"That is where you are needed most."
Catelyn turned away, speaking quietly with Ser Rodrik as they prepared to leave the tent. The sound of their footsteps faded into the murmur of the camp outside.
For a brief second, the world seemed to still.
Then a faint shimmer appeared before Alaric's eyes — invisible to everyone else.
A translucent panel unfolded in the air.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
Mission Completed: The Northern Usurper
Reward Granted: 4,000 MP
Numbers flickered beneath the message.
Current MP Balance: 6,620
Reward Added: +4,000 MP
New Total: 10,620 MP
Alaric's expression did not change, though his eyes shifted slightly as he read the floating text.
The notification faded, only for another to appear almost at once.
[NEW MISSION AVAILABLE]
Objective: Remove Walder Frey as Head of House Frey.
Secondary Condition: Install Roslin Frey as the new head of House Frey.
Reward: 2,000 MP
The screen lingered for a moment, glowing faintly.
Outside, the red and black armored knights stood unmoving, like silent witnesses to a plan still unfolding.
Alaric leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing as he considered the new task.