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According to the traditional laws of war, noble lords who retreat within their castles are not necessarily doomed, even in the face of defeat. As long as they surrender in time, their lives are, at least in theory, protected.
There exists an unspoken hierarchy that governs the worth of every noble rank. A knight has his price, a lord commands a higher one, and a lord paramount holds even greater value. These are unwritten rules that do not appear in any official treaty, yet every noble understands them instinctively.
Warfare follows a pattern: when defeated, one throws down their sword and surrenders, waits for their family to pay a ransom, then returns home to raise another force and march back into battle. This cycle repeats over and over again.
As for the fate of the soldiers who are recruited to fight and die for their lord's ambitions? Apologies, but the noble masters have never cared.
However, the fall of the Twins this time has nothing to do with any of those established conventions. To begin with, seizing the Twins meant uprooting the very foundation of House Frey.
When your ancestral stronghold has been taken, who can you count on to pay your ransom? The armies of the North have completely taken control of the castle. If there is gold to be had, they will simply take it for themselves. Why would they allow the surviving Freys to live, only to use them for ransom? That is nothing more than a delusion.
Moreover, just last night, between the raging inferno and the swing of well-aimed swords, over a dozen direct descendants of House Frey were slaughtered in a matter of hours.
By the time the massacre ended and the few surviving Freys—lucky to have escaped death—were gathered, they discovered a bitter truth. The family's right of succession had fallen upon a fool, one who was mockingly known as "Jinglebell."
This poor soul was a member of the Stevron line who had just witnessed his relatives beheaded. All the male heirs with higher claims had perished, leaving the right of inheritance to him.
And thus, the question now fell squarely on everyone's shoulders: What should be done with House Frey?
In truth, there were four possible options before the nobles of the North.
The first option was to simply throw this mess into the lap of Riverrun, since House Frey remained, at least nominally, a vassal to them. Technically, it was the duty of the old Lord of Riverrun to determine their fate.
Yet the situation was painfully awkward. Lord Hoster Tully, the Warden of the Riverlands and master of Riverrun, had been bedridden for a long time. No one knew when he might breathe his last and depart to meet the Seven.
As for his heir, Ser Edmure Tully, it was more than likely that he was currently rotting in a Lannister camp as a prisoner of war.
So yes, this problem did belong to Riverrun. But after going in circles and looking at it from every angle, it became clear that the burden would ultimately fall upon the North to resolve it.
The second option available to the North was to swallow their pride and support Aegon Frey, a man whose position within the Frey family was no higher than that of a fool, for the title of Lord of the Twins, in accordance with the strict and legitimate inheritance laws that governed Westeros.
The advantage of this plan was that placing him in power was essentially no different from not placing him at all. A man with a feeble mind could never govern the Twins. True control would remain in the hands of those Northern men stationed there.
However, even a fool could see the hidden danger in this arrangement. Everyone would know that Aegon Frey was a mere puppet. The many lower-ranking members of House Frey would never truly acknowledge him as their lord.
Worse still, the Northern noble appointed to oversee the castle would inevitably become the target of hatred and resentment from those same Frey kin.
Maintaining stability would quickly become a pressing and difficult issue.
The third option was to abandon the sacred traditions of Westeros' inheritance laws and instead pick the most capable among the remaining Freys to take control of the Twins.
This would, at the very least, prevent the family from remaining leaderless. Under the looming shadow of Northern swords, the scattered members of House Frey could quickly reorganize under a single banner once more.
But such a solution carried its own risks. From the very beginning, the legitimacy of this new lord would be in doubt. Even if he remained loyal and held fast to the support of the Northern forces to maintain his position as the head of the House, the moment the North's influence began to fade, a backlash from the Freys would be unavoidable.
It was a problem waiting to erupt. Still, that was a concern for the future.
The final option was to banish House Frey entirely, and for the North to swallow the Twins and the vast lands surrounding it.
This was certainly possible, as long as the North firmly insisted that House Frey had stood with the Lannisters, placing themselves in opposition to both the Riverlands and the North. If that stance was clearly established, then the act of absorbing their land could be seen as a just and reasonable course of action.
However, if this path was taken, one question would immediately arise before everyone: Who should be granted this rich and fertile land?
On the map, the territory of the Twins and its surrounding lands appears to border the North. It seems easy enough to annex with a few strokes of ink.
But reality is far from what maps suggest. The terrain makes things far more difficult.
To the north of the Twins lies the Neck, the traditional border between the North and the southern kingdoms. Other than a narrow stretch near the eastern coast, most of this region is swampy and nearly impassable.
If the North were to claim the Twins, it would take a significant amount of time and effort to truly integrate the region. Until then, the Twins would effectively be an isolated enclave, cut off from the rest of the North.
Consider this example: suppose the land is granted to House Umber of Last Hearth. Then an interesting question arises—how far is it from Last Hearth to the Twins?
Even if the Umber banner flew high over the walls of the castle today, within a few years, it would likely be replaced. The simple truth is, they could not possibly hold it.
Setting aside all the complexities of local customs, beliefs, and loyalties, the distance alone guaranteed that whichever Northern house took control of the area would, in a few decades, evolve into a new southern house—one that might remain friendly to the North, but would no longer truly belong to it.
Among all the Northern houses, the Manderly family, to which Clay belonged, was actually the most suitable candidate for this responsibility.
Geographically speaking, the Manderlys held White Harbor, controlling Bite Bay and the Three Sisters islands. By sea, they could completely bypass the treacherous terrain of the Neck and reach the Twins directly.
Culturally and religiously, despite their long residence in the North, House Manderly still kept the faith of the southern Seven Gods.
Though truth be told, by Clay's generation, their piety had waned considerably.
More importantly, there was one critical fact that could not be overlooked. The conquest of the Twins was achieved largely through Clay's strategic planning and leadership. His forces had struck in perfect coordination, both from within and from without. It was a military triumph carried out in full view of all who were present, an undeniable feat of arms that no one could dispute.
If the matter of dividing the spoils were to be taken seriously, then Clay held a clear advantage. Unless the Northern lords were willing to cast aside their sense of honor, his claim would be difficult to oppose.
…
After witnessing that unsightly scene known as "The Jinglebell," all the northern nobles present fell into silence.
"Last night… was it truly that many Freys who were killed?" Roose Bolton spoke up at last, his voice barely above a whisper, each word uttered with some difficulty. Sharp and calculating as always, he understood the complexities of noble conduct better than most. The moment the current situation became clear, he immediately realized the trouble it entailed.
"I seem to recall," he continued, "that Walder Frey had a rather vast number of offspring. Could it be that… there has been a mistake?"
Robb Stark, by contrast, appeared rather slow to grasp the implications of the situation. He simply shrugged, still seemingly basking in the triumph of having taken the Twins.
"I am truly sorry, Lord Bolton," the young lord said calmly. "But we captured every direct descendant of House Frey who was present within the city. Among those who survived, the one you just saw… he is the first in line to inherit."
"The most sacred laws of inheritance in Westeros have made this so. It is… quite the spectacle."
The youth added this final thought with a trace of awkwardness. For a moment, he struggled to find an appropriate word to describe the absurdity of the current state of affairs.
House Frey, infamous for having perhaps the most offspring among the Seven Kingdoms, had now somehow ended up with a simpleton as its heir. It was a mockery, a bitter irony if ever there was one.
It was likely that Walder Frey, a lord who had spent his entire life caring more for his family's legacy than anything else, could never have imagined, not even in the most ludicrous of dreams, that his family line would end up like this.
"We cannot entrust the Twins to someone like that," came the immediate objection from Lord Rickard Karstark. "Unless, of course, one of us is willing to stay behind and play 'mother' to that half-wit Frey. Would anyone here like to volunteer for that task?"
His words rang out with the bluntness of a soldier's instinct. It was a simple truth, one every commander understood: warfare relied heavily on logistics. And as an experienced military leader, Rickard Karstark naturally desired a reliable and stable rear base that could supply food and provisions for the front lines.
If that fool of a Frey were to take over the castle, then the North would have no choice but to leave men stationed here to oversee and manage affairs— a needless burden.
"I also oppose allowing someone like that to inherit the Twins," another voice joined in. "Besides, we fought hard to take this place. We cannot simply hand it back so easily."
"Of course, we'll be taking the three thousand Frey soldiers with us when we march south. They'll be most helpful in draining Lord Tywin's strength."
It was Clay who spoke this time, fingers interlaced and resting beneath his chin, his tone calm and unhurried.
"I do not know how many more men House Frey still has hidden away," he continued. "But what I do know is this: as long as we keep these three thousand soldiers under control and prevent them from causing trouble, even if the Freys crown a pig as their family head, they wouldn't dare raise a hand against us."
This was not a veiled scheme. It was an open strategy, laid bare for all to see. Clay was fully aware that the Frey family, now humiliated, would surely hold resentment in their hearts toward the nobles of the North. But what could they actually do? Their soldiers were in his grasp. Even if they wanted to act out, they simply couldn't.
Moreover, Clay had already resolved to exhaust the strength of these three thousand Frey soldiers in the upcoming battles, ensuring they posed no threat in the future. At the same time, he would need to devise ways to keep the other northern nobles under careful watch.
Another Red Wedding? They must be dreaming!
It was not that Clay wished to be a loyal bannerman to House Stark for the rest of his life. Rather, in the current circumstances, he simply lacked the strength to stand alone. He needed the banner of House Stark to shelter beneath.
House Stark must not suffer devastating losses in this war— at least, not yet.
"Lord Clay," came a new voice from among the group, "there are no outsiders here. We all know very well that the Twins fell because of your efforts. You deserve more praise than anyone. Now, we would like to hear your thoughts on how this place should be handled."
The speaker was Lord Glover, and it seemed his friendship with Ser Marlon had caused him to lean slightly in Clay's favor during the meeting. No one objected to his words; in fact, several of the northern lords nodded approvingly, including the young heir of the North, Robb Stark himself.
This was, in truth, the shared belief of most of the Northmen. In war, there were always spoils, and whoever conquered a city naturally claimed it as their own. That, too, was a kind of strength.
Clay furrowed his brow. In truth, for him, the issue was no longer one of making a decision. He had already made up his mind long ago.
"If you ask me," he said after a long pause, his voice steady and composed, "I believe it is time to change the banner flying over the Twins. I have seen enough of those two towers."
The moment the words left his mouth, they sent shockwaves through the assembly of northern lords.
The meaning behind those words was far too significant to overlook. These were not simple frontier nobles, but long-standing, prestigious families who had inherited their status across generations. How could they possibly not understand what Clay was implying?
It was now clear that the Manderly family had set their sights on the Twins. And now, this young lord of House Manderly intended to plant his own banner across its walls.
Roose Bolton, who was intimately familiar with the geography of the North, immediately recognized the feasibility of the plan. In theory, if the North truly wished to seize the Frey family's lands and foundation, House Manderly would face the least resistance of all.
And yet… if this plan truly came to fruition, if Robb Stark, who shared a deep and brotherly bond with Clay Manderly, truly gave his approval, then what would follow was inevitable.
The power of House Manderly would surge and expand at an astonishing pace. Back when the Manderly family proposed to occupy the Three Sisters Islands and to blockade the Bite Bay, everyone present had agreed to the plan without much hesitation.
By sealing off the Bite, the route from White Harbor to the Twins would become entirely secure. As long as the Manderly fleet patrolled the waters, communication and travel between the two regions would remain uninterrupted and safe.
Even if the Kingsroad were to twist upon itself and spin in place, rotating clockwise ninety degrees, it would not affect the strategic value of that waterway.
Lord Wyman Manderly had remained in White Harbor, managing affairs from there, while Wendel Manderly led troops to conquer the Three Sisters. And now, the third-generation heir of the family had entered the Twins alone and taken it from within, working in tandem with forces outside to break the castle in one decisive stroke.
Each link in the chain had connected to the next with flawless precision. Roose Bolton could feel a long-forgotten sense of conspiracy hanging in the air, thick and chilling.
Perhaps House Manderly had been aiming for control over the entire region surrounding the Bite Bay from the very beginning. From the Three Sisters to the Twins, everything might have already fallen within their carefully crafted plans.
However, something did not add up. Roose Bolton knew Lord Wyman Manderly well. In his understanding, the Lord of White Harbor was a cautious and steady man, one who would only commit once he had weighed the odds thoroughly.
For something this bold, so meticulously advanced to this point, it was hard to believe it had been orchestrated by Lord Wyman alone.
Roose's gray eyes lingered on Clay's face, examining it with growing suspicion and curiosity.
Was it truly you? he wondered silently.
But there was no one who could answer the question echoing within his heart.
Even more unsettling was this: how had Clay known a war was coming? The intricacies of such a plan could never have been devised after the conflict had begun.
So little time had passed since the incident involving Eddard Stark in King's Landing. How could this all have been arranged so swiftly?
Roose Bolton realized he could no longer see through the mind of this young man from House Manderly. What was he truly thinking? How much strength did he still hide beneath that calm exterior? For reasons he could not name, the Lord of the Dreadfort felt a chill crawling across his back.
In truth, Robb Stark was inclined to support Clay's ideas. Though he was well aware that the ambitions involved were vast, the plan itself had undeniable merit.
Yet his mother, Catelyn, gently restrained him. With a soft and composed smile, she turned toward Clay and asked,
"Lord Clay, may I understand from your words that the Manderly family is prepared to fully take over the Twins and its surrounding lands?"
Unlike her son, Catelyn understood clearly that such a proposal could not be approved lightly. Whether or not her husband would recognize this arrangement upon his return was still uncertain, especially since the region in question technically belonged to the Riverlands. No matter what, she had to make her stance known.
Clay, of course, understood that it was impossible for him to devour all of the Twins in one bite. Though the Manderlys were known for their hearty appetites, even they would suffer indigestion from attempting to consume such a large piece at once.
Therefore, Clay had prepared to offer something in return, to appease the northern lords, to make his ambitions appear more palatable and reasonable.
But just as he was about to speak, a Stark guardsman stepped into the hall and respectfully handed a rolled raven's message to Robb Stark.
Robb opened the letter, and as his eyes scanned its contents, his expression changed immediately. Once he had finished reading, he laid the letter down on the table and slowly spoke:
"My lords, I have just received news. The two younger brothers of the late King Robert— Stannis Baratheon, has declared himself King of the Seven Kingdoms from Dragonstone and demands that we march south immediately to help him overthrow the false king who now sits on the Iron Throne."
"Following that, his brother Renly Baratheon has also gained support from the Stormlands and the Reach. Surrounded by wine and flowers, he has crowned himself king as well."
This revelation instantly shifted the thoughts of all the Northern lords. Moments ago, their attention had been focused solely on the question of who would control the Twins. Now, their minds raced with the implications of this far more serious development.
The continent of Westeros now had three kings. And everyone present understood what that meant.
Originally, after Eddard Stark was betrayed in King's Landing, Robb Stark had rallied his bannermen and marched south, intending to wage war against House Lannister. At that time, it was merely a conflict between the Starks and the Lannisters.
But now, with two more crowns raised in the South, the great houses of Tyrell and Baratheon had also entered the fray. Even Stannis Baratheon, from his stronghold on Dragonstone, had gathered several thousand men to stake his claim in the struggle for the Iron Throne.
It had been barely a month since Robert Baratheon's death, yet the realm of Westeros had already shattered into pieces.
Now came the most awkward and pressing question of all: every other region had already chosen a king—what was the North to do?
They were all Robert's brothers. Were they supposed to unite behind one and wage war against the other? And besides, they still had no word of Eddard Stark's fate. His life or death remained uncertain.
In that instant, many of the lords turned their eyes toward Robb Stark, who sat silently at the table, saying nothing.
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(Author's Note🔔)
Regarding the matter of the Twins—its strategic position made it a target that couldn't be ignored. However, whether seizing it outright would violate the unspoken customs that govern relations between noble houses is a question that will be addressed in future chapters.
As for House Manderly, given their current size and influence, attempting to claim all of House Frey's holdings in one sweep would be unwise. Such a bold move would stretch even their resources thin and risk provoking resentment and hostility from multiple sides—creating enemies faster than they could manage.
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[Chapter End's]
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