18 Ned VIII & Viserys II (AC 289)

Ned VIII

Since the Westerlands were the first targets of the Ironborn, Ned wasn't surprised to learn that Benjen had brought almost a hundred of his swornswords south to join the muster. Queenscrown couldn't support many armsmen yet and formally their obligations were to support the wall and not the Starks. Nonetheless, the Ironborn's burning of Lannisport had cut close to home for a number of the Westerlanders who had settled on what had been the New Gift.

Since Longlake was on the road south from Queenscrown, the column being a mix of Lyanna's men and Benjen's was only good sense and he'd not held any hope out that Lyanna wouldn't accompany them.

Seeing Cersei Lannister on a warhorse beside his sister was definitely a surprise, as was the mail shirt she was wearing.

"What's she doing?" hissed Catelyn.

"I suppose we'll have to ask." He walked forwards. "Benjen! Lyanna!"

Lyanna scrambled down and hugged him, while Benjen turned and helped his wife dismount. "Ned!" She lowered her voice. "Don't worry, we left the boys at Long Lake. All three of them will be safe there."

"And our goodsister?"

Lyanna laughed. "She heard about the Mormont women and decided she wasn't going to be left behind."

Still on his brother's arm (and wobbling a little as she walked), Cersei showed no other sign of discomfort. "Prince Eddard, Princess Catelyn. It's my pleasure to meet you again."

"The pleasure is ours, Cersei," Cateleyn said smoothly. "Please, don't dwell on titles, we are all family here."

"Thank you, Catelyn."

It was young Robb, standing beside Ned, who asked the obvious question. "Why are you wearing armour?"

Cersei leant slightly more heavily on Benjen. "Your uncle wouldn't agree to let me go to war with him unless I wore it."

"But no one's going to attack you here, Aunt Cersei."

"It takes some time to get used to wearing armour, Robb," Ned explained. "We've made some quarters ready and I'm sure you're more than ready for warm baths."

"Oh gods, yes." Cersei let Lyanna and Catelyn guide her away and Ned gave Benjen a sceptical look.

"I thought it would deter her!" his younger brother hissed. "The closest she's been to war was the tourney at Harrenhal and hitting at sticks with her brother!"

"You aren't actually going to take her to war, are you?"

"I promised her that if she wore armour she could come with me." Benjen shook his head. "I didn't realise she'd be so stubbon - by the time we got to Long Lake I was sure she'd never want to see that mail shirt again."

"And if she was staying at Long Lake you thought you could convince Lyanna to stay with her?"

"I didn't have much hope on that score," Benjen said sourly. "I can probably persuade her to visit Casterly Rock rather than sail to the Iron Islands when the time for that comes."

By unspoken accord the two brothers left the yard and walked towards the Godswood. "How well are things going up at Queenscrown?"

Benjen considered. "It was looking bad for a while. I warned the southerners who came north with Cersei about what winter would be like but I don't think they believed me. Fortunately Cersei is good at handling them."

"And how is she managing?"

"I think she was having doubts until Joffwyn was born." Benjen puffed up like the proud father he was. "He's a good boy, although Cersei spoils him a little. It might do him good to stay at Long Lake for a while."

"Will you bring him down to Winterfell once the war is done? Introduce him to his other cousins?"

"Of course! And what are you feeding Robb? He's growing like a weed!"

"Just the usual. It seemed to work for us, after all."

"Aye. And your daughter - word was that she's Lyanna all over again?"

"In looks," Ned allowed. "She isn't as wild as Lyanna was - I think."

Both men chuckled at that, glanced around to ensure their sister hadn't overheard them and then met each other's eyes.

"It's good to see you again, Ben."

"Aye, and to see you Ned. Now I'll ride south and meet Robert again. Although it's hard to picture the roisterer you brought here that time as a wise and sagacious king."

"Well, I have trouble seeing him like that myself. But he's a goodhearted man and I think it's that he wants to do well by the Kingdoms. There are worse starts for a king."

"I was worried for a bit when I heard he'd given Lord Bolton a position, have you heard aught of him? You know the hold stories of the Dreadfort."

"Those days were long ago. Bolton does well in the south - he's wed, I don't know if you heard?"

"No! Again? To a southern woman?"

"Aye, one of the Stokeworth heiresses." Ned saw his brother's blank look. "The Stokeworths' land is just north of King's Landing, near the King's Road. It's a good marriage."

Viserys II

"There are excellent latrines in the camps - they were dug for the road repairs - so for the love of the Gods, use them!" Robert scowled at the assembled lords. "I do not want half the army down with the shits. If I find out someones got his pants around his ankles anywhere else in the camp then I don't care if he's taking a crap or shagging one of the smallfolk, they'll be named and shamed before the army before they're allowed to belt themselves up. And flogged if that's what it takes."

This wasn't exactly the sort of conversation that the bards spoke of when discussing war. It was, however, more than typical of the meetings Viserys had stood through, behind and to one side of the Usurper.

"At times I'll have you fetch and carry for me," Robert had explained the duties of being his squire. "The rest of the time, watch and listen because there's no better education for war."

Now the man glared after the lords filtering out of his small encampment. "Fools," he said quietly. "But perhaps no more than I myself." He glanced at Viserys. "So how are you enjoying war, cousin?"

"I'm rather wondering when I'll learn something about war rather than... bread and boots and..."

"And shit?" asked Robert sardonically. "Very well, I shall teach you something of war. Walk with me."

They left the small perimeter around Robert's tents. It was no more than a low wattle fence marking out his headquarters - the King's tent was no better than that of anyone else, save that he shared it only with Viserys and two of the Royal Guards, not ten or eleven more.

"Strategy is not complicated," he was lectured. "It is very little more than an objective: in this case to march up the Riverlands and join forces with other companies until we reach the coast and can spread out to reinforce the defenses of castles and towns there. Until Stannis arrives with the fleet, that's really all that we can do. So much for strategy."

"What about tactics?"

"Tactics are a variable, but until you know the battleground there's little you can do except keep in mind the capabilities of your troops and those of the enemy. Somewhat important but not immediately relevant."

They had walked past the tents of the King's Men and were now among the supply wagons, loaded with disassembled siege weapons. "What a war really hinges on, nine times out of ten, is supplies. Any fool can raise an army - all you need to do is be born in a suitable family. The trick is to feed it, arm it, clothe it and to do so not at a castle or city were the requirements are at hand but on the road, miles from anywhere. If you can do that and your opponent can't then you have a profound advantage."

"Advantage," he said again. "That's what matters, Viserys. Stack up the advantages on your side: position, numbers, training, morale, more and better food, less disease... and then you're unlikely to lose a battle. And the way to get those advantages is to pay close attention to those details."

"That doesn't sound very knightly."

Robert stopped and leant against the side of one of the wagons. "Knights predominantly wear heavy armour, ride large horses and fight with lances, right?"

Viserys nodded uncertainly.

"Tactically speaking, that's ideal for breaking up poorly disciplined infantry. Like a smallfolk revolt, for example. I don't know for certain but I suspect that the tradition of the knight dates back to Andal lords busy beating First Folk conquests back into line. Charge into the mob, break their will, hunt them down as they run." He paused. "I suppose as the heir to such traditions I should admire that but the tools for beating up smallfolk aren't quite the same as those for a serious war."

"But didn't the Storm Kings make peace with the Andals?"

"Only after the vast majority of what were later the Storm Lands had been conquered. Ancient history I suppose." Robert shook his head. "But I suppose you mean is knights who are brave, chivalrous and noble. Who see war as a sort of tournament where glory and wealth can be won but no one important is every hurt."

"Except the villains."

"Oh, I stand corrected." The black-haired man laughed sourly. "No one is a villain in their own eyes. Your father probably thought he was securing his throne and while I've no damn idea what your brother thought he was going to accomplish, I'm sure he didn't see himself as a villain."

"Rhaegar wasn't a villain," snapped Viserys.

"He was a gods-damned fool. If he'd kept his damn head then he'd be king now and I'd have had about half as many headaches."

His squire stared at him.

The usurper sighed. "Fine, fine. I doubt you'll ever believe me on that one. Let's go back to my tent. No doubt I have more letters to -" He broke off.

Looking around, Viserys couldn't see any cause for alarm. The man's eyes were fixed on one of the cart horses being unharnessed. "Sir?"

"I'm a bloody idiot," Robert muttered. "Right. Letters. And while I'm at it, designing a horse collar that won't strangle the poor beasts."

"If you say so," Viserys said dubiously.

"If the horses can pull the carts better they can carry more supplies and that makes it easier to keep the army fed. Little things like that can decide battles, or were you ignoring everything I just said?"

"No but... why are you teaching me how to wage war when..."

"When you might use those skills against me?"

Viserys nodded reluctantly.

"Well you might not use them against me too. I don't think it'd be fair for me to punish you for something you haven't done so far. And who knows: one day you might succeed the throne. I'd rather that if you manage that it wasn't as a complete incompetent. It would make me look bad to be deposed by an idiot."