Chapter Text
Another helping of hot and thick stew was ladled into the bowl of Barth Snow, bastard of Willam Dustin the son of Lord Dustin and head of his grandfather's household guard. To any of the highborn of the south the idea of putting a bastard in such a position of power would have been unthinkable but Barth Snow was a northerner and thus honour flowed in his blood as much as iron and ice. Lord Dustin had dismissed his guards to find themselves food, ale and entertainment for the night as he would be residing in the Children's tower, itself only a short walk from where the Lords of the North were to meet in The Gatehouse Tower to feast and discuss matters of war and lordship, no doubt also to talk amongst themselves on the revelation that Ser Aiyana the Lord of House Bloodtide was in fact Lady Aiyana of House Bloodtide. Barth had of course kept his ear to the ground as he was requested to do by his father and grandfather, it truly was amazing how much the common soldiers heard and could be put together from a dozen little snippets of conversation into a cohesive whole.
The Lords of Barrowtown had yet to make their own position known on whether they were outraged at Lady Bloodtide having hidden herself in men's armour and guise for years and so until that time came Barth was keeping his own council. The thick stew was freely available and ale flowed without care amongst the armies of the Northern host gathered at Moat Cailin. Benjen Stark had met the remainder of the host from Barrowtown when their banners had arrived that very day and informed them that night was to be a celebration of the mustering of the North's armies, some thirty thousand men once one took into account the troops left behind the guard against the predations of the Iron Born and any other forces that might seek to use the absence of the Northern armies to cause issues. Their own supplies would not be needed as House Bloodtide would be extending guest rights to every one of the thirty thousand soldiers and the support staff who accompanied the army by freely sharing bread, stew, salt and ale.
Tents had been set up at the edges of the camp where coin could be exchanged for a woman's warmth provided the customers in question submitted to inspection for the pox or any other ailment. Barth had even heard it said that those who did suffer from the pox and other such were taken to one side and offered a cure to ensure that such illnesses were limited within the camp and reducing outbreaks in the North as a whole. Digging into the stew around afire with a few other men from Barrowtown, he savoured the rich meatiness of the stew and freshly baked bread as music was played nearby by a pair of young women..girls really barely into their fourteenth year who were producing a jovial jig that had more than a few of the northern soldiers banging fists into their hands to match the beat. A enormous man with bandages across his eyes was laughing close by to the girls, the facial resemblance clear.
"By the Gods...its her.." Barth tore his eyes away from his stew to see young Bodric, to differentiate from old Bodric, looking at where a commotion was being caused as Lady Bloodtide, dressed in all the finery one expected of a Lady of the Northern Houses swept through the fires and accompanying bands of soldiers. He took pause at the blood that dripped from one of the Lady Aiyana's hands though..the blood in fact went up the hand and halfway up her forearm. Behind the woman strode two men carrying a body with a gaping wound in its chest, the young man was obviously dead with dark hair and pale skin. The dead youth's face was set in a rictus of pain and terror and Barth looked closer to see the sigil of the Flayed Man stitched into the man's tunic, though dirty and ragged.
Lady Aiyana pitched her voice to be heard far and wide as she slowly turned and met the eyes of many of the watching soldiers. "Be warned soldiers of the north, I do not tolerate rapists and murderers. They are nought but beasts wearing the faces of men and neither I or my Hunters will allow them to roam free. Carnal pleasure can be sought with wives and paid companionship..if you have other problems you seek to address through murder..bring them before your Lords or myself. I am the Lady of Moat Cailin and take my duty to judge most seriously. The consequences of your actions will find you even if I just hunt myself, such was the case of Ramsey Snow the bastard of Roose Bolton. You have been warned."
The woman pulled a pristine white handkerchief from within her dress and cleaned the blood from her hand and wrist as the faint murmuring of the other Northern troops was silenced by the low banging that grew in sound as the Northmen wearing the sigil of the Chalice started stamping their feet and banging their tankards on any hard surface nearby. Lady Bloodtide simply raised a hand in acknowledgement before she continued onwards towards the Gatehouse Tower. Barth took another spoonful of stew and glanced around, seeing fear and some level of awe on the faces of the other Barrowtown guards. It had been one thing to hear stories of Lady Bloodtide fighting both here and the tale of The Demon of the Ford during the Bolton rebellion, but to see and hear the woman was something else.
Rickard Stark sat with Wyman Manderly at the head of the long table in the Gatehouse Tower. One of Lady Bloodtide's stewards, a stern matronly woman who wore the oddest garment of a cloak of feathers had informed him that the Lady had been dealing with an issue in the camp and would be here presently. Ale and wine was flowing freely with heavier drinks being held back until after the meal for which Rickard was feeling grateful, whilst his Bannerman may have respect for The Demon of the Trident the Lady Bloodtide did not have the centuries of history that the She-Bears of house Mormont had which had forced acceptance amongst the Northern Lords for their fighting prowess, not did she have the same size and obvious strength of the Mormonts. But Rickard had heard the reports...Lewyn Martell taken apart like a child by the Lady Bloodtide..the woman standing in the blood and shit of battle with her troops and leading ten or twenty sallies in a day to beat back the army of the Reach. And that was just the combat prowess, not even talking about the weapons she had brought with her. White Harbour had lost not even a single ship and in turn decimated the Redwyne fleet due to the 'sea mines' that one of the Lady's Hunters had overseen the construction and placement of.
That Wyman Manderly was here and not trapped in a city under siege spoke in large about the advantage that had been gained by courting House Bloodtide, along with the revelation of the true sex of Lady Bloodtide had come many second and third sons..those of homely complexation and less abrasive personalities being summoned to join the forces of their fathers as the Northern Lords hoped to make a match with the powerful Lady of Moat Cailin.
Rickard drained his ale, realising that the balance of power in the North was shifting. With the destruction of the Karstarks, was House Bloodtide going to step in as one of the new major powers amongst his Bannerman?