(Val, ???)
When Mance left his tent, it was obvious to everyone that something had changed within the Free Folk leader.
Oh, the strength that had made him so formidable and respected was still there, but it was waning. Like a smoldering fire that had been doused with snow, barely regarded as kindling.
Val had been uncomfortable with the change. Mance had never been loud, but his emotions had never seemed so dull. Everything about him felt wrong, this was not the same man who once declared that he would guide their people to a new future, one where the kneelers would not dare look down upon them from the safety of their castles and great halls.
Dalla had approached her, concerned about the state of her husband. He hadn't even reacted to his son, sparking fears that something unthinkable had happened to the man.
Spurred on by sister's worries, she and the other Chiefs approached the man, questioning him and demanding answers. Looking back at it now, that was unwise of them.
The King Beyond the Wall did not react well to being surrounded so suddenly by so many influential figures.
It was a miracle no one died in that clash, as Mance, for the first time in a long while, showed just exactly why he was so respected amongst their people. That ferocity and fury were unconcealed as the man vented his anger on the other Chieftains. Val, not one to give up, worked with Tormund to subdue her good brother, eventually calming him long enough for Dalla to talk some sense into him.
Having gotten free of whatever was ailing him. The King Beyond the Wall declared to the whole camp that they would be migrating toward Skagos and Skane.
With that said, he returned to his tent, ignoring everyone and looking defeated. Mance had no interest in arguing with everyone, leaving the fire in their hands and running for the hills.
Understandably, many protested this decision.
This would mean abandoning their homes and their traditions by giving in to the Southern King. Spitting on the graves of their ancestors who had fought to keep the kneelers at bay, sacrificing blood and spirit for their freedom.
If the fucking Starks could not subdue them, what right did this foreigner from the East have to do the same?
It was Tormund who'd silenced them all. The usually headstrong Chief had admonished everyone, pointing out the fate that awaited them should they follow in the footsteps of the Weeper and his band of misfits.
He showed no emotion as he described vividly what befell their fellow free folk. The fate that few would wish upon themselves, least of all their blood.
Val had chosen to remain silent during it all, unwilling to involve herself and divide their people against her good brother.
Better to sacrifice the idiots now and gather what remains. True to her prediction, many headstrong fools, especially those who had nothing to lose, refused to acknowledge the decision, insisting loudly on their rights and cursing their fellows' cowardice. They proclaimed vengeance against the Sorcerer King who dared to bring them so low.
She would not deny that at that moment she wanted nothing more than to do the same, but her mind kicked in and gutted her heart.
Reminding her of the uncomfortable impasse they were in.
Death by the sorcerer's hand or eternal servitude to the monster that everyone hated and feared. It was an unenviable situation, no matter what decision they made. So, a new idea arose in her head. One that only Mance, in his right state of mind, would be able to think of. Convincing this Mudd Sorcerer that their home was not worth it,
Easier said than done. The suspicions their 'allies' held against them were too strong, which meant that getting near him wasn't something she could see happening any time soon.
Not unless her contributions were so great that she could not be ignored.
Glancing at Giantsbane, "Tormund, gather the Chieftains. We have to talk." She said calmly.
In return, the infamous Chief grunted in agreement, unaware of her thoughts but trusting that she knew what she was doing.
She wasn't sure this would work, but she had heard of the Kneeler King's penchant for supporting those who earned their position. Maybe the fucker would listen to their demands if he saw merit from her people.
…
(Lorimas Mudd, Castle Black)
"You look like shit."
Not taking that lying down. "Jeor, you old bear. Shut the fuck up and help with this Seven forsaken paperwork!" Lorimas demanded of his old friend.
"Now, why would I do something so stupid? I've had to deal with that shit for decades, it's your turn to suffer a little, you lazy bastard." His friend's response nearly made him want to throw the whole pile straight at the old Bear's face.
"Yohn told me all about your lazing ways. At least have some self-respect."
Staring unamused at the northerner, Lorimas was ready to throw hands then and there. If words don't work, then his fists will do the job instead.
As if sensing his thoughts, Jeor gave him a dry look.
Coughing awkwardly to hide his embarrassment. "How's your brat doing?" He swiftly changed the topic.
Seeing what he was doing for what it was, Jeor decided an argument wasn't something he was interested in. "Troubling, since his wife died, the idiot has been pining for some las from the south."
Raising an eyebrow at that, "Oh? Who would have caught that dullard's eyes?" Lorimas asked.
"A Hightower, if I recall correctly."
Silence enveloped the solar, as Lorimas' jaws dropped in shock. The balls on that kid must be made of valyrian steel. It's a pity it was never going to happen. That would have made for a hilarious sight.
"Which one? That bastard Leyton has enough to fill a contingent." The sourness in his tone could not be heard.
Hearing the annoyance in his voice, but wisely ignoring it. "Lynesse. His youngest daughter." Jeor answered.
"Isn't that the girl who has taken a fancy to Erlend?"
Huh, while he knew Lenny wasn't actively pursuing the girl, his nephew hadn't outright rejected her. Malora had admitted to him and Dalia that she foresaw no path better for her youngest sister than in Erlend's arms.
Probably something she saw using that special magic of hers.
"Well, that makes it a thousand times worse now." Jeor grumbled in annoyance at his son's choice, "Enough of that, we should prepare to greet the incoming lords, I'd rather keep them right where I can see them."
Ah, there was that inherent dislike every Northerner had for their Southern counterparts. Even the old bear had it.
"Better that than this blasted pile."
…
The welcome party for the arriving lords was as dour as one would expect.
It had been going for an hour or so, the sheer amount of lords gathered easily surpassing that of the Great Councils of the past.
No one was in the mood to celebrate when a literal legend was soon to knock on their doors. Thus, the mood was depressing, to say the least.
Lorimas could have sworn that the sun had set east, with how calm the Blackwoods and Brackens were. Even with Erlend's policies in place, the two Houses managed to find innovative ways to be at each other's throats.
If they had put as much effort into their development as they did trying to kill each other, one or the other would have surpassed the Tullys long before the conquest and united the Riverlands. The Justmans were a perfect example of how powerful they could be.
Unfortunately, they preferred to continuously destroy each other, leaving it to others.
There was none of that hatred to be seen at the moment. The somber faces of their two lords and their grim acceptance of the other were eye-opening. Even while greeting each lord and their entourage, Lorimas could see the plain disbelief shown by the lords around them.
Finally, the main players showed themselves.
Benjen, Tyrion, Stannis, and little Loras had broken protocol, choosing to arrive last, deep in discussion with each other over the organization of the troops, and what lord got stationed where.
It was a delicate matter, and they were careful not to insult the lords stationed there and risk stepping on their toes. Not that it would matter if the lord perished.
Lorimas could already guess that a lot of their enemies would 'conveniently' be meeting an honorable end. It was interesting and probably a humiliating experience for the absent Mace and his ambitious mother, who would have thrived in this situation.
Oberyn was close by, talking with none other than Desmond Osgrey and Mathis Rowan, while Randyll Tarly watched over the trio suspiciously.
The man still hadn't forgotten about the Red Viper's actions before Erlend's crowning, he also had trust issues with his fellow Reach's lords.
Lorimas shook his head at the absurdity of it all, peaceful riverlanders, polite reachmen, and Lord Paramounts not puffing up like peacocks. What the hell is the world coming to these days?
Yohn had arrived earlier than the rest, with Horton temporarily taking up his duties and responsibilities.
Of the Realmscouncil, Lorimas, Yohn, and Raymond were present in the North. The rest remained within the Capital, advising Edmund as he took charge of the Realm on behalf of Erlend.
Monford had grown more agreeable over the years. His loyalty towards the Mudds strengthened as his House gradually regained its reputation and prestige. It helped that the Targaryens and Mudds were practically merging, and thus, future Mudd Rulers would carry the last pure dragonlord bloodline in their veins.
The Grand Admiral was charged with guarding the continent's coast.
With so many of the most powerful men in Westeros far away from their seats, it would not surprise anyone if any enterprising raiders with more ambition than brains decided to try their luck.
Deciding to join the paramounts, "Well, if it isn't the honorable Palatine himself. Good to see you doing well for yourself." He said to Stannis whilst chuckling.
Stannis, who was deep in conversation with his fellow Paramounts, froze at the mention of his newest title. It was a new title Erlend created, a non-hereditary title granted to a meritorious official and placed them in charge of a kingdom-sized territory within the Essosi Dominions.
Stannis was currently the Palatine of Pentos, with the reduced Pentoshi governor and his lesser equivalents reporting directly to the rigid Stormlander.
Tyrion and Loras had looks of envy on their faces at the mention of the title, a godsend for any Kingdom or House still recovering from the effects of the clusterfuck that was these recent decades. Not only did it give its holder numerous privileges, but it helped them establish favorable trade agreements between the two regions under their command, within reason, of course.
There was also the benefit of showing the crown's favor. The only Palatine besides Stannis was Visenya, who ruled over the former territories of the three daughters.
Of course, the title wasn't as powerful as one would expect it to be. Merely meant to keep the lesser Governors in line and acting similarly to how the Warden title worked in Westeros, albeit with more immediate benefits to its holders.
"Thank you, Lord Lorimas. I only do what my liege demands of me." Stannis answered diplomatically, pointedly ignoring the looks of envy from the two beside him.
Benjen watched the charade with a neutral expression. The last thing he lacked was territory and resources. Aside from the trade benefits the rank provided, it provided little else for him.
Oberyn, deciding that the conversation was done and dusted with, laughed at the paramounts and grasped Lormias' arms. "My friend, it's been too long."
"We saw each other only a few moons ago." Lorimas pointed out.
"Bah... far too long for my taste."
The Lord Marshal stepped back, he knew all too well of the Dornish bastard's tastes, never a day passes without him and his paramour attempting to tempt him and Dalia into their bed.
Unable to get a hold of Erlend, the two set their sights on the more grizzled elder, much to his dismay.
"Father, you can flirt with him later. I want to see the top of the Wall." It was the familiar voice of Obara, The girl looked annoyed with her father.
It was an expression Lormias was well acquainted with, rarely did a day go by without the eldest Sand Snake looking annoyed with her sisters, cousins, and the rest of the kids in Firmridge.
"Don't be such a bore, Obara. I'm sure Father will eventually get his prize." Joked her fellow Sand Snake. Nymeria trailed Obara, her angelic sister Tyene close behind her.
Lorimas wasn't fooled. Not a day had gone by without those two hellions having tried to get into Lenny's bed. Tyene was the most persistent of the three, much to Danaerys' fury.
No doubt, all three took the chance to get some private time with Erlend, far away from the vigilant eyes of the unnerving dragon princess. Elia, bless her kind soul, thought it was amusing but had disapproved of their pursuit, seeing it as nothing more than misplaced childish affections and inexperience.
Whether Erlend would return their affections was still up for debate. Right now, he had more important issues to deal with.
"For Fuck's sake, Oberyn!"
…
With the men all stationed in key locations. The Lords could finally take a breather and use that time to air out their grievances.
Not many were keen on facing the undead, even more so in the case of the Night King and his Walkers, who could only be killed through special means. Erlend's absence left a lot of people nervous, many of whom wanted to use the dragons to simply burn their enemies into cinders without losing a single life in the process.
Lorimas did see the logic in it. As long as Erlend's dragons appeared, the wights would be sitting ducks.
Yet, he could also see right through the agitated lords. While most were loyal, they also did not wish to sacrifice their men and strength if they could help it. That would leave them at Erlend's mercy if they lost too many.
The events that had occurred just a few hours before scared them straight and further deepened those worries.
Thankfully, Erlend had already sent word that he would be arriving with Jinhua and Verna any day now and that Velskud would remain in the South, guarding the capital.
Velskud was with Visenya. Lenny had left his most fearsome child in the hands of his partner so that she could move back and forth from the Capital and Essos at a moment's notice.
Alongside Monford, she was responsible for keeping their borders secure.
Personally, Lorimas and the rest of the royal family saw it as another move by Erlend to cull the military strength of the Noble Houses and further shatter their influence.
This was seen by the fact that just hours ago, thousands of wights had been sighted marching towards the Wall, their Walkers close behind. Many 'brave' lords had boldly gone out to confront these walking abominations on foot.
There would always be a few glory hounds, and Lorimas had decided to use those fools as examples of what would happen to those who ignored orders and decided to do their own thing.
Initially, against all odds, they did quite well for themselves, slaughtering wights en masse, which emboldened a large number of the lords and their levies to march out as well, choosing to build up merit for themselves.
Stupidity had to have a limit. As expected, a few egotistical fools ended up overstretching themselves, forgetting orders to never break line, and sought out the commanding Walker on their own.
The killing blow was what many sought, and they got it alright, right in their fucking hearts or skulls. The death of their lieges and subsequent raising destroyed the morale of many of the troops, sowing chaos and disorder in the formerly confident forces.
It didn't help that the chaos had spread to the battles of their fellow glory hounds, with only a fraction managing to escape at great cost. Benjen, unwilling to see so many men perish, marched out to rescue the stragglers and those who'd managed to get their shit together.
In the end, more than ten thousand men and their lords fell… All because a few glory hounds sought personal merit above common sense. Ten thousand out of fifteen thousand that went out.
Thankfully, while this hurt the numbers of the gathered forces, it wasn't enough to put a sizable dent. It also got rid of the most troublesome elements within the armies. As much as Lorimas hated to admit it, sacrificing ten thousand men to beat some sense into two hundred thousand was a worthwhile endeavor.
Some good news to be had was that, reportedly, a few walkers had been killed during the fiasco, constantly wiping thousands of wights and making it easier for Benjen to carry out his rescue.
According to Erlend, the process of creating a Walker was not something the Night King would be capable of doing at the moment. So, every Walker dead was a great blow to the icy cunt.
As soon as the remaining Walkers saw Benjen's rally, they decided to cut their losses and retreat. Not before raising at least half the idiots that had perished in their pursuit of glory and using them as cannon fodder to cover their retreat.
This marked intelligence had chilled more than a few of the gathered lords, reminding them that they weren't dealing with beasts but actual intelligent enemies.
Once the raised wights were defeated, Benjen had the rest of the bodies burnt, not wanting a repeat when Walkers inevitably returned.
Sighing out loud, he just wanted this bullshit to be done so that he could enjoy his retirement with Dalia.
'Fucking glory hounds, they're useful sometime but god can they be insufferable."
======
Note: I wasn't sure what number I should give in regards to the whole United Army, in the end settling for approximately two hundred thousand. The events that made it difficult to go any higher were;
- The War of the Ninepenny Kings (Occurred only two to three decades ago).
- Robert's Rebellion (The Stormlands and Dorne suffered the most) and the subsequent clusterfuck, where most of KL was wiped out.
- Erlend's Conquest (the Reach and the Riverlands suffered the most).
- The Greyjoy Rebellion.
- The Conquest of Western Essos (Ironically, the least bloody for Westeros).
Theoretically, the Kingdoms could have recovered to decent numbers and the fresh infusion of pops from Twilight Isles, but keep in mind that Erlend is subtly suppressing the recovery of his vassals throughout all of this under the excuse of an Eternal Winter. They're scraping the Barrel here, this is, of course, excluding the Banners guarding the South and his Essosi Dominions.