"Lord Robb!"
Amid the rising clamor, a low male voice sounded. It was not loud, yet it cut through the hall with ease. Roose Bolton, wearing a masklike smile, spoke. "It is always valuable to hear a neutral opinion from someone uninvolved. Jon's words, as well as the thoughts of the Lords, all have merit. This matter requires careful thought, and a decision should be made only after hearing everyone fully. However, I have a small suggestion. As a special participant, Jon has completed his duty in sharing his view. We thank him for taking the time to offer us his insight. But now, should it not be time for we Northmen to make our decision alone?"
Though the words were polite, the meaning was clear. He wanted Jon gone.
But this was Winterfell, not the Dreadfort, and the host here was a Stark, not a Bolton. Robb frowned, thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Jon is my brother, and he is part of the North. Even if he says nothing, he has the right to stay."
"No."
The host could not push him out, but Jon himself could not remain. Being forced to speak against his own heart had been agony. His face burned with shame. He had already given everything he was capable of giving. Staying longer would only invite more questions he might mishandle, which in turn could worsen the final outcome.
He rose slowly, bowed to the assembled Lords, and said, "My Lords, I have duties to attend to, so I will take my leave. I must go now. Farewell."
Robb had no real authority to force him to stay. He could only watch as Jon walked toward the door, accepted his cloak from a servant, put it on, opened the door, and stepped into the howling wind outside.
The door closed softly, shutting out the cold.
Roose Bolton, who had been watching from the corner of his eye, lowered his head slightly. A faint smile flickered across his lips. Even as Commander of Castle Black, the boy was still a boy, too young and far too naive. It was obvious Jon did not want to become Lord Commander, but truly wished to stop a conflict between the North and The Gift. But if he had even a little more experience, he would know that at a moment like this, even with a blade at his throat, he should remain seated. How could he walk out because of a little provocation and a subtle hint from someone who was not even the host?
Putting away the smugness, Roose replaced it with a calm, serious expression. He had just removed the most unpredictable element in the room. Now it was time to steer the great ship of the North back toward a path where House Bolton could profit.
...
"I object to the views of Lord Karstark and Lord Glover. Whether going to war with The Gift or remaining neutral, neither is a wise choice."
Jon had barely stepped out when Roose Bolton's unexpected declaration immediately seized the room's attention. Both factions, which had been in the midst of heated argument, fell silent. Even the silent half of the assembled Lords looked toward the Flayer of the Dreadfort.
"Then let's hear your brilliant idea," Karstark growled, eyes blazing.
"I would not dare call it brilliant. War is no game. I only hope to offer Lord Robb a calm perspective, free of emotion," Roose said mildly, his slight smile failing to reach his eyes. "Going to war with The Gift is the worst of all options. The Free Folk surrendered to the Night's Watch because they were desperate, seeking survival alongside the living south of the Wall. There is no unity among them, nor between the North and the Free Folk. If we provoke war, we will give them a common enemy. That pressure will bind them together."
He paused, then continued in that soft, steady voice. "Perhaps we could avoid the dragon's fire through clever deployment, but men can run. Castles cannot. The Dragon Queen can fly. And unless we can shoot her from the sky, the war cannot be won. The only difference is how badly we lose. The best result would be merely using the vast North and its people to stall her until she misses her chance to take King's Landing. It harms others and harms ourselves as well. What is the point?"
"Life is fought for with breath and steel!" Rickard roared. "What is the point of living if all you do is tremble and weigh every possibility? The White Walkers shot down a dragon. Why can't we? You always act careful and cautious, Bolton, yet when has House Bolton ever prospered from it? A man survives by courage, not by cowardly calculation!"
"Lord Karstark," Robb cut in sharply. He was growing impatient with the insults. "Let Lord Bolton finish."
Two years ago, when Eddard Stark had just died and Robb first became Warden of the North, an argument between two great Lords might have left him unsure. But time had tempered him. Now he was growing into his authority.
Rickard flushed, but held his tongue. Roose continued.
"Direct war cannot be won. Neutrality, however, is even more foolish in the long run." Roose's tone dropped into something colder. "Lord Robb, do you truly believe the North, as part of the Seven Kingdoms, can be neutral?"
"The answer is no. We are not Braavos or Pentos across the Narrow Sea. Once you order Egor's army and the Queen to pass through the North, you stand against King Stannis. Even if you give the Queen no grain or soldiers, it is false neutrality. The worst part is that you are not supporting the Queen either. Fewer casualties, yes. But this so-called neutrality is a taboo for any power."
The Lords leaned forward, listening.
"The war for the Iron Throne is not like disputes over a river or a patch of forest. It cannot end peacefully. Whoever wins must destroy the other. With no unexpected changes, the South has only three possible outcomes. King Stannis stays on the throne. The Dragon Queen takes the throne. Or Young Aegon takes the throne. Whoever wins will reward their heroes with land and wealth."
He paused, letting the question hang.
"And where will that land come from?"
"From the defeated," came the answer. It was spoken by a quiet man with a crocodile sigil on his chest. Many young nobles did not recognize him, but Robb did. Howland Reed, loyal Lord of Greywater Watch, guardian of the Neck. Not powerful, not wealthy, but valued for his loyalty and the vital role of his territory.
"Exactly," Roose said. "The victor will not recognize Northern neutrality. If the Queen wins, she might not treat us as enemies, but she will not see us as allies either. She will think we yielded out of fear of dragonfire. And if King Stannis wins? All the loyalty and blood we shed for him would vanish in an instant. Betrayal at the final moment is far more hated than an enemy from the beginning."
He continued, his voice smooth and persuasive. "If we break with the war early and claim neutrality, the Riverlands and the Vale will lose trust in us. Our long-held alliance collapses. The victor will punish us. The defeated will not welcome us. Surrounded by hostility, unable to unite with anyone, we will be in a far worse state than if we fought."
Karstark could not stand it anymore. "So according to you, we cannot fight, and we cannot stay neutral. Should we just fly the three-headed dragon banner and kneel to the Mad King's daughter? She has two dragons and half of Westeros behind her. Any fool could win with that!"
He meant it as sarcasm, but he had walked neatly into Roose's hands.
Roose nodded calmly. "If the North truly wishes to avoid war, then independence is the only way. But no King will allow the North to break away. Even with the Neck as a natural barrier, the North cannot feed a million people without grain from the Riverlands and the Vale. So, Lord Karstark is correct. If we want to avoid becoming losers of this war without fighting, then the North must either fight for King Stannis to the end, or switch allegiance and support the Queen."
He smiled faintly.
"Whichever path you choose, do not dream of neutrality without paying a price. There is no such luxury in this world."
(To be continued.)