ASOIAF: King of Winter

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Chapter 40

Robb Stark

The morning air was crisp, tinged with the faint metallic scent of forged iron and worked wood. Robb Stark stood in the center of a makeshift shooting yard hastily erected on the fringes of their encampment. The ground was churned with the footprints of men and the occasional hoofmark, blending into the damp earth.

Target dummies, little more than hastily stitched sacks stuffed with straw and bound to crude wooden frames, stood at varying distances.

An aged craftsman approached, his hands rough and stained with soot and oil, clutching a bulky crossbow. The design was rudimentary—far from the polished weapons that graced the armories of proud lords. Its frame was plain, the wood unpolished, the mechanism exposed with crude metal fittings.

"As you instructed, my lord," the craftsman said, holding the weapon out. "We've managed to separate the parts for easier assembly. It's simple enough now that each component can be made independently. But, in exchange, the performance..." He hesitated, glancing at the weapon, "...is below what you'd expect from a standard crossbow."

Robb took the weapon without a word, his face a mask of impassivity. He inspected it, fingers tracing the lines where wood met iron, then loaded a bolt with methodical precision. Raising it to his shoulder, he aimed at one of the distant dummies. The bolt loosed with a mechanical thunk, its flight slower than expected, embedding into the target with little more than a shallow bite.

He lowered the crossbow and gave a single nod, devoid of disappointment or approval. "How many of these could you produce if you had a large number of unskilled apprentices?"

The craftsman's eyes lit up, understanding dawning. "With the old design, we were lucky to manage ten in a month, and each apprentice needed near a year's training to handle the full process. But with this method? I could teach new apprentices to craft just one part each. Simple tasks, easy to master. I can't give an exact figure, but... at least fifty per month, provided I have the hands and the materials."

Robb nodded again, handing the crossbow back. "The design isn't ready. Work on improving its performance. You'll receive the usual payment."

The craftsman bowed slightly, relief and ambition mingling in his features. "Of course, my lord. I'll see to it."

As the man disappeared into the bustle of the camp, Brynden Tully approached, his easy stride contrasting Robb's stoic stillness. His sharp eyes glanced at the retreating figure of the craftsman before settling on Robb.

"Crossbows? I've always preferred a good longbow in a man's hands. Faster reload, better range. Why bother with these cumbersome things?" he asked.

Robb's expression remained unchanged. "A skilled bowman takes years to train. Sometimes, starting with his grandfather. A crossbowman requires weeks. Their lack of power and precision is irrelevant when there are hundreds firing together."

He turns to his grand-uncle. "We know that Tywin headed southeast from Harrenhall, this clearly is to establish an alliance with the reach." He explains. "His own armies are very depleted, and the Crownland's shall be too, once they face Stannis, that leaves the Reach."

"These crossbows are meant to be used in a strategy against them?"

"To a certain point, yes." Robb nods. "The Reach can raise as many men as 100 000, out of that number we can reliable gauge that roughly 60 to 70 thousand of the, are levies, poor, mal-equipped, and without discipline, and no match with our experienced infantry in quality. The issue is their 30 to 40 thousand cavalries, the Reach have a great culture of chivalry, their knights may have heads filled with tall tales and exceedingly inflated self-worth, but they are also well trained and equipped, even if they lack experience."

Brynden, with a thoughtful look on his face, nods. "That is true, and worrying, I cannot imagine what a charge of 40 000 knights would even look like."

"If we are to contend with it, better strategies and tactics may not suffice." Robb elaborates further. "We need the necessary tools to employ these, our smaller size allows us quicker movement and alacrity within the battlefield, but we will need better methods to hold strategic points without significant defenses, crossbowmen are going to be one part of that effort."

'The Red' scratches his chin in thought. "That is a valid point, provided we have the numbers, digging trenches against a hill and filling them to the brim with crossbowmen." He almost blanches. "Additionally, if we give the enemy a single path to cross, pitting them against a wall of pikemen… That would be a nightmare to breach."

"That is one way to make use of crossbowmen, yes." Robb replies. "Nonetheless, I don't need all of our infantry forces, I am of the belief that a smaller yet more disciplined force with a skilled commander always triumphs against a larger one with lesser quality and a bad general."

"Yet things are not that simple, and more versatility won't do us any wrong, so finding a use for the left overs is a good use of resources." Brynden follows. "I understand." Robb nods in assent.

"We march soon," Brynden added after a pause. "The men are ready. Our next stop is High Heart. Might be the hideout of the Brotherhood Without Banners. Or just well-armed bandits."

Robb's gaze remained fixed on the distant horizon. "My father sent Beric Dondarrion to deal with the Mountain. The Mountain is dead. They should have disbanded."

Brynden shrugged. "Men who fight together often find reasons to stay together. Camaraderie, purpose. Even after the cause is gone."

Robb stared into the distance, his face an unchanging mask. Only his words hinted at the thoughts beneath. "We'll see."

The wind picked up slightly, ruffling the banners of the Stark host, as silent and steadfast as their young lord.

*-*-*

Robb rode on his horse on a sedate pace, the sound of the march echoing through the lands.

He couldn't help but think about his recent endeavors, especially during their travels toward Harrenhall.

There were several reasons why, despite having a large army as a future adversary, Robb opted to take his time moving the army to Harrenhall.

First, there is the whole Frey fiasco, with Stevron Frey and his closest family members sent in advance to take and prepare Harrenhall for their arrival, it would behoove him to secure his hold over the Twins.

Securing the Frey's allegiance and loyalty is even more important for him than it was for the Tully's, after all, his greatest support comes from the North, and the Frey's -with their strategic location- have the ability to cease all transport from and to the North by land by simply shacking up their 4000 men on the Kingsroad, at least before an army is sent to chase them back to the Twins.

It is that strategic location that forced his hand, the Late Walder Frey is only loyal to himself, so his influence within the castle has to be diminished, shifting to the hands of Stevron Frey and his grandson, Black Walder, who both hold a life dept to him, and would acquiesce to most of his demands as long as they didn't bring ruin to their house.

Second, is giving Arya some much needed tutelage on the Force, it is unfortunate that all of his siblings are not old enough to receive a comprehensive education in the Jedi ways, giving them well rounded abilities in most disciplines, but Robb's second life was one as a Jedi Lord, and as the Masters of his time were forced to, he had to take in many apprentices as long as they were force sensitive, no matter their age.

War always forces one's hand.

A person strong enough with the Force can catch up to normal Jedi as late as 16 years old, but aside from probably Bran and Jon, the rest of his siblings lack the sensitivity necessary to bridge the gap without the necessary mindset.

Not only that, but opening their minds to different aspects of the force might lead them to be scattered enough to be corrupted by the dark side, and we can't have that.

So, he needed to find the best suitable training plan for each of his siblings, Sansa was honestly simply a fluke, he simply hypothesized that her connections with beasts might be heightened after her bond with Lady was broken with the latter's death, his gamble paid off, as Sansa seemed to almost overspecialize in the art of animal bonding, her bond with the Weirwood Network helping things along.

But Arya's situation is different, for one, her bond with Nymeria is still intact, lacking any to the Weirwoods. Secondly, He doubts Arya has the patience to sit still long enough to learn anything worthwhile.

So, he has ideas, but none are concrete enough to put in actions yet, plus, Arya just began feeling safe enough to be comfortable, some more carefree days won't hurt.

Third, and most importantly, is to consolidate power, aside from the Freys, both the Riverlands are ripe with countless nobles with oversized ego and an abundant desire to defy authority.

The winds seem to blow one way, the way of his coronation, most do not know of the fact, the people that matter have no issue, as they are too big and influential to be ignored, yet small enough to be cannibalized by their smaller competitors, which puts their interests alongside his, as long as he was a barrier keeping their houses safe from the jackals.

The issue are the smaller and mid-sized houses who'd gladly betray him for a large sum of gold, or the promise of bigger lands, and the generation long grudges between all of them, the Bracken and Blackwoods, the two Vances, the Smallwood and Vances, a lot of others and house Frey, grudges grow like weeds on these lands.

One way to deal with these grudges, is to simply be scary enough that the relevant parties are more terrified of earning his ire rather than make their issues big enough to bother him.

He has done that, spending enough time in the yard with the wizened knights and their eager heirs, putting them on their asses with the needed brutality, using his Force Empathy liberally to reinforce their feelings of respect and dread.

But emotions often deaden when their source is absent, so the time has come for the second solution, marriage.

Some comments here and there, putting the needed people together in the required position, giving hinting comments to the relevant people, and suddenly a bevy of people are suddenly betrothed, lords that would have usually never met each other find themselves future family.

His mother, at his urging, was somewhat useful. She wasn't the best manipulator or smooth talker, but that isn't the point. All she needed was to send a message to the ladies of the Riverlands, that he would be grateful if some matches were arranged, often times all that is needed is to light up the path for people to walk it.

Plus, it would be useful to make his mother feel useful, at least for the time being, until his coronation, where he will definitely send her back to Winterfell.

The final nail in the coffin was the Lefford Girl, apparently, she was less interested in learning to defend herself as she was in the woman she sought to teach her.

Seemingly on the first lesson, the woman gave up, finding the physical exertion too much for her tastes, yet using the meeting as an opportunity to get to know Dacey Mormont.

After a while, she finally shot her shot… and was faced with a wall.

Turns out, the Lady Mormont didn't enjoy people of the same persuasion, and had rebuffed the lioness somewhat politely.

They are still friends, but the issue is that some rumors were scattered from the debacle, somewhat marring Alysanne Lefford's reputation.

'Rumors with no relevance.' Robb thought. 'Despite the truth behind them, not many put much stock in those tales, believing that it was simply some scorned suitor attempting to dirty her reputation.'

The issue wasn't that, but with her… nature, it seems that the Lefford Lady will take her sweet time chosing a suitor, which is disadvantageous, as it is in Robb's advantage to tie her to the riverlands as soon as possible.

It seems that he will have to approach the woman with a proposal, the problem is that it must be someone easy going with no qualms being inferior in station to another woman, especially one of her persuasions, yet with the bloodline necessary to tie her to an influential house.

'Doesn't Bracken have a son?' He muses.

Then he remembers, Janos Bracken had been blessed with naught but daughters from his wife, yet he has a bastard son, one Harry Rivers, known to be fair and comely, and one with a pretty good reputation, all things considered.

For one, he is a bastard, his greatest ambition would be to become a knight under his father's banner, a much lowed position than the husband of the Lady of the Golden Tooth. Secondly, Robb had met the man, and he had seemed very laid back and humble in both appearances and to his senses, and he doubts he'd find any issues with Alysanne taking charge.

And finally, Janos Bracken is quite fond of the boy, which will make him interested in securing a higher position for him. It would be a great method to get in his good graces, facilitating the marriage that is, and would put down any rumors of Robb favoring the Blackwoods over his house.

'Perhaps a meeting is on the horizon.' He thinks.

And so, the path to high heart is filled with plans put in motion, and Robb's position grows more and more secure in anticipation of his Coronation.

[A.N: This chapter is meant to be a glimpse into Robb's inner thoughts, the idea is to emphasize that there's a lot of things that happen behind the scenes, a lot of politicking, planning, and putting things in motion so everyone goes the way he wants it.]