Last night, after Robb Stark finished praying in the Godswood, he held a brief but focused meeting with his commanders.
The ambush on Tywin Lannister, though dangerous, was not complicated. Each lord only needed to bring his cavalry and appear at the correct location at the appointed time. There was no need for elaborate strategies or complex maneuvers.
The discussion lasted about half an hour. Eddard Stark contributed a few insightful suggestions, which were met with nods of agreement. Afterward, Robb assigned positions for the castle's defenses, and the meeting was adjourned.
Once dismissed, the soldiers and lords dispersed to their respective quarters. Everyone wanted to rest and prepare for the battle that loomed the next day. The city had a tense but excited atmosphere; the soldiers, despite fatigue from yesterday's brutal fight, found themselves buzzing with anticipation.
Eddard himself did not emerge from his room until the evening. After finishing his wash and dressing, Abel, his young companion, approached him with wide eyes.
"Young Master," Abel blurted out, "I heard the waitress at the Golden Glow Tavern is especially beautiful."
Eddard looked up from his towel, a hint of amusement in his expression. "Hm? Do you want to see for yourself?" he teased.
Abel, tall and broad-shouldered as most of House Karstark's men were, flushed slightly at the teasing but remained cheerful. Then Eddard remembered something. He grinned. "Oh, right. Today is your fifteenth birthday, isn't it?"
"Hehehe," Abel replied, scratching his head, his shyness tempered by gratitude.
Fifteen was an important age according to village customs. It marked the transition from boyhood to manhood, though in the eyes of the community, a boy was not considered a full man until he had been "initiated" by a woman. Otherwise, ridicule and teasing could follow for years. It was customary, therefore, for a boy to find a woman to mark his coming-of-age on this day.
Abel had only mentioned it once, and he had not expected the Young Master to remember.
"Alright, then. Let's go see for ourselves," Eddard said with a smile, picking up a longsword from a nearby rack and hanging it at his waist. In battle, axes might be more effective than swords, but in daily life, swords were more convenient.
The two Karstark brothers, Matthew and Martin, were stationed at the door to guard it. Since Eddard intended to visit the tavern, he called them along.
As they locked the door and walked through the quiet streets, casual conversation filled the air. They learned that others had gone out in pairs to spend some of their hard-earned coins. Meanwhile, Matthew and Martin were unlucky; when they flipped a gold dragon for heads or tails, they lost both times and were left behind. Seeing their frustration, Eddard simply smiled and said nothing, amused by the situation. Abel, by contrast, laughed freely, a boy fully enjoying his first taste of independence.
The Golden Glow Tavern was not far from the inner castle. By the time they arrived, the tavern was alive with laughter, shouting, and the clatter of mugs. The festive sounds spilled out from the open windows, mixing with the smells of roasting meat and ale.
"That battle last night was exhilarating!" a soldier exclaimed. "I followed Lord Umber across the city wall, swinging my axe. I even nicked it on several helmets!"
"Oh, please! What we faced was truly brutal! Everyone wore chainmail and shields, yet we were pierced by the giant ballistae on the walls. These Southerners deserve the Others themselves—they have so much gold!"
"Calm down, everyone. If not for House Karstark's Young Master's plan, who knows how many of us would have died?"
"Tch! What's there to brag about? That Young Master is a coward! I heard he hid behind his armor, chainmail, and a wooden wall, afraid to be seen. What a chicken!"
At that, Abel's face flushed crimson with anger. He pointed at the speaker and shouted, "Damn it! What did you just say?"
"What? Not convinced? I said it. Your Young Master is a cowardly egg!"
"Shut up!!" Abel roared, fists clenched.
Eddard recognized the man immediately—it was Mata Norrey, the younger brother of Owen Norrey. He too was in plain clothes, his expression a mixture of sorrow and lingering anger, still raw from the death of his elder brother on the battlefield.
Abel charged forward, furious, but Eddard quickly intercepted him. Fighting in the tavern during a rest period was punishable, though not as severely as death or exile; a few lashes or a fine were more typical. Fortunately, the enforcer present was Ser Brynden, a man on friendly terms with Eddard. A small skirmish could be contained without causing a larger incident.
He stopped the Karstark brothers from joining in, and even Fager restrained four young Norrey men who had intended to help Mata.
Satisfied that the confrontation would remain contained, Eddard led Abel and the Karstark brothers to the bar. He requested the tavern's finest Arbor golden wine and handed a glass to himself, Martin, and Matthew, enjoying the rich, fruity sweetness as the tavern's patrons continued their chaotic revelry.
In the center of the hall, a small "arena" had formed, cleared by cheering soldiers moving tables and chairs. Abel, now confident, charged Mata with surprising speed, landing a flurry of blows. Mata, initially scornful and drunk from sorrow, quickly realized the fight would be serious. He dodged and countered, tripping Abel onto a table and sending bottles and bowls crashing to the floor.
"Lord!" the tavern owner cried, alarmed by the destruction, but Eddard, ever practical, threw a handful of silver stags onto the bar. The owner's expression softened; gleaming coins were always persuasive.
Abel got up nonchalantly, brushing off the debris, and charged Mata again. The two clashed, dodged, and struck in a dizzying display of speed and agility. Sweat formed on Abel's brow, his clothes were tattered, yet his face remained calm, showing no sign of fatigue.
Eddard observed quietly, mentally noting the effects of Abel's newly acquired rank: Ice Warrior. His strength had increased by 40%, stamina by 20%, and he had even gained a touch of frost resistance. This small experiment showed the tangible benefits of the three attributes—strength, stamina, and agility.
Meanwhile, a small man with shifty eyes approached the bar. "My Lord," he said, smiling to reveal a mouth full of missing teeth, "I am Tomallo. Are you participating in the bet? The big guy pays two to one, the small guy one to two. Only silver stags accepted."
Eddard placed a gold dragon on the bar. "I'll bet on the big guy to win."
Tomallo eagerly accepted the coin, calculating quickly how he could cover any losses. Abel, feeling the thrill of combat, grabbed Mata by the collar and crotch, lifting him to prepare to throw him out the window. Mata, dizzy and desperate, cried out, "No! Stop! We surrender!"
Eddard called to Abel, "Alright, put him down." Abel released Mata, and Eddard turned to Tomallo, smiling. "I won."
Tomallo, resigned, handed over two money bags filled with silver stags, his entire collection. Eddard told the tavern owner to pour each of them a generous glass of wine. Then, he looked at Abel, now triumphant, and handed him his reward—a gold dragon and the silver stags—smiling, "This is for winning. Now, go enjoy your coming-of-age ceremony."
Abel beamed with gratitude and quickly headed to the back, whispering with the tavern owner, who nodded and discreetly indicated a young, attractive woman waiting in the kitchen. She was around twenty, with a curvaceous figure and a charming, approachable face that immediately drew Abel's attention.
Eddard observed with quiet satisfaction. Abel had chosen well. The tavern owner, initially hesitant at the sight of so much gold, quickly realized the Northmen were reliable customers who paid without hesitation. He nodded to his staff to prepare, ensuring Abel would have a memorable evening.
Martin and Matthew, watching eagerly, were nudged by Abel, who said warmly, "I've arranged someone for each of you too. Go enjoy yourselves." The brothers, delighted and grateful, thanked both Abel and Eddard before following his instructions.
Eddard returned to his seat, savoring his golden wine. His stomach rumbled slightly, reminding him that even warriors needed sustenance after a day of stress and excitement. He called to the cook, "Bring me your best dinner here."
Tonight, the tavern was filled with laughter, coins, and the smell of roasted meat—a small but well-earned reward after the rigors of battle. For Abel and his fellow soldiers, it was more than a celebration; it was a rite of passage, a glimpse of manhood and camaraderie forged in fire and blood.
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