Eddard Karstark and several hundred riders had left Karhold in search of a stream of migrants that were to be escorted to Karhold. Torrhen, although only thirteen, had been allowed to join his older brother. Rickard had said it would be good for him to ride in an armed company – Eddard doubted it. At long last they had discovered by a series of patrols along the road the migrants headed in their direction. A sorry lot they looked, dragging their only possessions with them. Still, Karhold had grown since they set off for war. More accommodation, more laborers needed, and even men with some experience drawing a bow or holding a spear. They would be provided for.

Eddard rode forward. “I am Eddard, son of Rickard, of House Karstark. While we rode south to avenge our murdered lords the Ironborn, opportunistic and cowardly as ever, seized the opportunity to lay low our coast. The man entrusted with your defense, Maric Stark, failed in his duty to protect you. The good people of Karhold welcome you warmly, and as denizens therein you fall under the protection of House Karstark. Serve us well and you shall have nothing to fear in the way of raiders.” This well rehearsed speech being over, Eddard motioned for the mounted knights to form a rearguard and flank the travelers. The pace back east was unbearably slow…