Eagle of the Valley of Ice and Fire

Brynden Tully listened to the bugle call in the distance and looked at Edmure with a little surprise.

Edmure looked up at the distance with a puzzled look on his face, and said uncertainly: "Is this bugle call asking for orders from the support team?"

"Let's stop talking nonsense!" Blackfish jumped up and raised his long sword, "Warriors of Riverrun! Follow me to attack!"

The cavalry of Tully's headquarters followed Blackfish and rode away.

More subordinates looked at Edmure hesitantly, and the Duke of Riverrun nodded slightly, and the cavalry followed.

Edmure took a deep breath and was about to whip and follow behind, but his right hand holding the whip was held down.

He turned his head, and Harry Rivers, the bastard of the Bracken family, bowed slightly to him with a little respect, "I'm sorry, Duke."

Edmure frowned, he could hear the guilt in the bastard's tone, "Why did you."

The long sword pierced through his chest, and the gushing blood stuck in his throat. Edmure opened his eyes wide, lowered his head and looked at the long sword that pierced him, and blood permeated the sword.

"You killed the Duke?" The guards around Edmure exclaimed, but were instantly buried under the blade of the Bracken cavalry.

The young Duke of Riverrun grabbed forward with his hands, and his fingers slipped on Harry Rivers' smooth breastplate. He left the last words weakly, "Bastard"

Harry Rivers frowned slightly, drew out his long sword, and swung it fiercely. With a "bang", Edmure's head fell to the ground.

"For the Iron Throne!" The bastard raised his long sword, and the Bracken cavalry around him quickly swung their swords and pounced on the Tully cavalry who were still unaware of the situation.

The red comet is like a candle lit by the gods in the sky, but it drips blood instead of oil.

The scarlet light accompanied by the candlelight burned the sky red, and also burned the treetops and flowers in the riverlands red.

The autumn of Westeros came uninvited, like a gift from the red comet.

There were broken armors, broken swords and spears, deflated shields and mud-stained unrecognizable family emblems everywhere.

The most eye-catching ice wolf flag was held in Attis's hand, and the rising flames in front of him baked the ground and dispelled some of the cold.

Attis threw the ice wolf flag into the fire, and watched quietly like the nobles who surrounded the fire and prayed silently to the new and old gods.

The silver-gray ice wolf head was entangled in the flames, and black debris was carried out by the wind at the edge of the gap where the wolf's neck was burned through. The gap gradually expanded until it was completely swallowed by the flames.

Robert Royce rode up behind him, "Lord Arryn, Robb's guards went north along the Red Fork and entered the dense bushes ahead."

Harry Rivers looked at Artis Arryn, knelt on one knee and lowered his head, "Lord Arryn, I ask that the important task of killing the traitors of the Iron Throne be entrusted to me. The Bracken family's troops often operate in this area and are very familiar with the terrain. There is no way they can let the traitors escape."

The knights of the Vale surrounding the fire looked at the kneeling bastard with contempt. In their view, although the North was an enemy and Robb Stark had broken his oath, the bastard in front of them was the real traitor, a traitor who turned his back on the battlefield.

Artis glanced at him twice, and Robert Royce looked at him with a little expectation in his eyes.

"Who is guarding Riverrun?" The Duke asked the bastard.

Harry Rivers replied immediately, his tone seemed to contain a hint of sarcasm, "Lord Raymond Darry of 'Lost Darry' has already regarded himself as the old steward of Riverrun, which is ridiculous."

"Take your troops and move towards Riverrun at full speed, help me trick the city gate open, and capture the castle where the two rivers meet." Artis did not look directly at the bastard of Bracken when he spoke, but only looked at Anguy who had been looking around behind him.

"Anguy!" Artis shouted, jumped lightly, and turned to look at the Duke, "Robb Stark is a king after all, I will lead the troops myself."

The bastard sighed lightly, he stood up, patted the dust on his body, looked up at Artis Arryn and the elite Eyrie guards behind him, and a gloomy look was hidden in his eyes.

But he soon restrained his eyes, still with that playful smile, ignoring the strange looks of the knights of the valley around him, and turned to walk towards the team of the Bracken family.

The fallen leaves fell from the treetops to the ground in the dense bushes, and also fell on Robb's shoulders.

Robb leaned his head against the tree roots, and the sudden drop in temperature made him shiver all over. The chain mail on his body fell off a little, and the drooping appearance made him very uncomfortable. Robb took it off irritably, leaving only the padded armor on his body.

Even the black bear cloak that had been draped behind his back was torn off in large sections, leaving only a pitiful small piece hanging behind his neck.

Robb took it off and threw it aside.

Grey Wind bit the arrow on his hind leg tightly, and kept fiddling with it with his fangs until it was removed.

The direwolf lowered its tail, approached its owner, and stretched out its warm tongue to lick Robb's cold face.

Robb smiled weakly. He reached out and stroked Grey Wind's head. The warmth of his hair was transmitted from his palm to his heart. At this moment, it was better than the campfire in the camp and the fireplace in the castle.

A painful groan appeared beside him, and Robb turned his head to look.

Daisy Mormont lay on a pile of fallen leaves, with several arrows stuck in her body, gasping for breath.

"Daisy!" Robb shouted, his voice was still very low. He propped up his upper body and approached Daisy. "Medic! I need a medic!" He shouted loudly.

"Your Majesty," Rickard Karstark had deep wounds on his face, the leather armor on his shoulders had been completely cut off, and the ancestral longsword was thrown to the ground by Earl Karstark casually, in tatters. "Our team was broken up, and we can't find a military doctor."

Willis Manderly's fat body collapsed in the bushes, tightly holding his right hand with only four fingers left, "Fortunately this is not in the North, otherwise we would all freeze to death."

The Northern Cavalry were all nobles from all over the place, big and small. They looked at each other silently, splashing in the stream water they had just found, washing the blood on their faces and the stains on their bodies.

Robb's eyes suddenly became blurred, and a deep sense of powerlessness invaded his whole body.

"I shouldn't have come to the war," Robin Flint covered the hole in his abdomen, blood gushing out, and looked at the young wolf lord in despair, "I still have a family to inherit, I still have a family, I. Your Majesty, please, please take me home, take me home"

"Coward!" Earl Karstark said viciously, "The Flint family has produced a northern scum like you! I am really ashamed of you for them!"

"I I." Robin Flint opened his mouth, feeling that all the strength in his body was deprived of the air in the surrounding riverlands. His eyes gradually lost their light, and his pupils suddenly opened, and there was no movement.

Rickard's scolding was still on the side, "Coward! Scum!"

"He's dead," Daisy Mormont propped up her eyes and looked at Rickard, "died in a foreign country."

Mormont's daughter weakly looked at Robb Stark, and the disappointment in her eyes was deeply understood by Robb.

The young wolf seemed to have fallen into an ice cave, and his whole body was filled with cold.

"We." Robb wanted to issue some remedial orders. He looked at the tribesmen who were tortured by pain and defeat. The emblems of the major families in the North were in his eyes. He thought of Bran and Rickon who were missing, the fallen Winterfell, his mother and Arya trapped in the Eyrie, trapped in the Vale, and Sansa trapped in King's Landing.

A light laugh came from his throat, and Robb closed his eyes weakly. His family was trapped everywhere, and his loyal subordinates were also trapped in the south.

The myth of the invincible young wolf was also exposed by the fate of the eagle in the Vale. Robb's mouth showed an arc, and a bitter smile was forced on his face.

He is the King of the North, the master of Winterfell, and the eldest son of Eddard Stark. He must fulfill his final responsibility, just as the Stark family heads of all generations have done.

Robb opened his eyes, slowly stood up, and made a decision.

"I'll go see Artis Arryn, I want you to go home."

The young wolf looked at Daisy Mormont and smiled slightly, "Daisy, is the letter I left still there?"

Daisy Mormont nodded gently, "Yes, Your Majesty, it's in my mother's hands. When she knows everything here, she will act according to the contents of the letter." She swallowed twice and looked at Robb, "Your Majesty, we..." She was about to dissuade him, but she didn't know what to say, so she stopped and just looked at Robb silently.

He shook his head, "There's no need, Daisy," Robb took a deep breath, "I've made up my mind."

Rickard stood aside in silence, staring at the ground blankly, indifferent.

Robb stood on the warhorse, he leaned over the horse's back, and gently touched the warhorse with both hands.

"Sorry, buddy." Robb stroked the warhorse's hair, took a long breath, shouted softly, kicked his legs, and the warhorse galloped out of the dense bush.

Atis Arryn frowned slightly as he watched the figure approaching from a distance.

Ange drew his bow and aimed at the person.

"Don't worry, he's alone." Atis said softly.

Ange nodded slightly, but did not put down the longbow in his hand.

Atis squinted his eyes slightly, and Robb Stark's familiar yet unfamiliar face appeared in his vision.

The broken armor, the leather gloves with gaps and thumbs exposed, and the direwolf emblem on the chest that was blurred by mud and unrecognizable.

"Robb Stark." Atis Arryn said softly.

"Artis Arryn" Robb's tone was slightly hesitant, he stopped his horse and stood dozens of meters away from Atis.

"I'm here to negotiate, in the name of the Stark family," Robb seemed to find it hard to believe what he said, as if he was talking in a trance, "I ask you to exchange my head for my men to return to the north, and return safely."

The leaves fell silently on the ground, and the originally bare brown soil was covered by layers of dark green or light red fallen leaves, which made it softer when stepped on.

The horse's hooves touched the layers of leaves lightly, making a creaking sound of the leaves being trampled, and the sound was very clear.

Rob looked at Artis, who said nothing, and the atmosphere of silence filled the crowd.

"You still don't understand," Artis finally spoke, but it was not the answer Robb expected and feared, "You don't understand anything, Robb Stark."

"You shouldn't be king, too naive, Robb, too naive." Artis sighed softly.

Rob's face was tense, and he didn't know what to say.

"Winterfell fell, Bran and Rickon died there, Arya is in the Eyrie, I will take good care of her, and Sansa is in King's Landing, in the hands of the Lannisters." Artis paused for a moment, looked at the indifferent Robb Stark, and was silent for a few seconds. He chuckled and said, "I should have thought of it earlier."

Attis looked up at Robb, "You have no right to decide your life or death, Robb Stark. A great noble cannot die like this easily." He looked around, "But you broke your oath and ruined your life." Eagle-Wolf's Agreement My vassal, Royce wants your wolf's head."

"I'll give it," said Robb.

"Please at least understand one thing," Attis looked at the ignorant King of the North. "Your life does not belong to you." He paused for a few seconds. "After you die, the child in your new wife's belly will not belong to you." It may be that among the living Starks, Sansa Stark is the heir to the North, and she is in the hands of the Lannister."

Robb pursed his lips, as at a loss as he had been when the Vale Riders suddenly appeared.

What a half-grown boy! Attis Arryn lowered his head and sighed softly.

"Oathbreakers never end well, Robb," Attis said. "I gain nothing more from this war. The Vale is fighting for the Iron Throne."

"You'll get the whole Trident," said Robb.

"Think easy, King of the North." Attis said slightly sarcastically.

"I" Robb lowered his hands weakly. He was not wearing any weapons, not even a dagger.

"Jeanne Westerling, is she in Riverrun?" Attis asked. He turned his horse's head, leaving a cruel figure on Robb's back. "We will decide where you belong after Jeyne gives birth to her child."

"Take it!"

The Eyrie City guards approached Robb and knocked him hard with the hilt of his sword. Robb's vision turned black in an instant, he became dizzy and passed out.

Attis looked at the embarrassed King of the North, then raised his head to look in the direction of Riverrun City in the distance.

Even now, Robb is not clear about his situation and has never learned a lesson. He still does not understand that his life and death, and the belonging of his tribe, are not a "lost North" king with no political value. All he can decide is that he can only say the words "I give it to you" or "negotiation" if he clearly realizes how much value he still has in his final life that can be used as a condition for transaction negotiations. Otherwise, there is no need to negotiate.

He has never met Jeyne Westerling, but in the belly of this noble woman from the West, there is a child that everyone from the North to the Vale, to the Iron Throne, and even the West is paying close attention to. This is related to From the North to inheritance, it is related to the ownership of Winterfell.

The Lannister must have wanted the boy dead, but Attis didn't necessarily.

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