𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕹𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖍 𝕭𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗

𝕰𝖑𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓

𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐄

Ser Rodrick bowed one last time. "The garrison is ready, we are about to set off. Should the weather remain unchanged, we will reach Moat Cailin in a week's time".

Elise nodded in approval. "And once you're there, you'll personally decide which forces you'd best leave at the fortress" she said, for probably the fifth time that fresh, crisp morning: whether to remind the old Castellan of the plan, or to convince her that it was indeed a good plan, she couldn't tell anymore.

Sending an additional garrison to reinforce Moat Cailin (the bulky fortress that stood as boarder from the North and the Neck) had been her first decision as 'Regent'.

"I've been able to witness for myself", she'd explained Maester Luwin, whom she had found in his office, "that the castle is not all that protected. King Robb – and with reason, undoubtedly" (she was quick to add) "has taken many of his best soldiers south, but we can't forget what's North" her tone, as she went on, has started to get more and more heated. "Moat Cailin has a very strategic position and its fall, though it wouldn't necessarily bring us any harm, would be a most dishonorable event. Besides, with the Greyjoys stirring, I wouldn't really feel safe to know one of our main fortresses weakly defended when near to such equipped forces".

Although reluctantly, the Maester had at last admitted that the move seemed to be a very reasonable one. And when they had then told the Maester-At-Arms, the ladder had taken up the news with such exitement and responsibility that he not only had agreed, but had demanded he were to be at the lead of the expedition: that had calmed the poor girl, who (scared from Maester Luwin's hesitations when she'd first exposed her idea) had already started to question the entirety of what had been the result of a long, detailed and strategic thought process.

A hand being placed gently on the girl's right shoulder snapped her back to reality: it was Luwin. "Now that we've seen Ser Rodrick off, we must prepare ourselves for our own journey".

Elise simply nodded, and demanded Martyna to follow her back to her chamber.

The young maid was hopping cheerfully and excitedly. "You should wear your white grown, my Lady! And we could pair it up with that bluish charm you had last week. This way none will have doubts on your being a Stark!"

The young Frey reflected on her maid's words: what to wear was not a question she'd asked herself – or at least, not until that moment. The white grown would've definitely made her look a real Stark, but she couldn't help thinking it too daring – after all, she was not a Stark.

"I don't know, Martyna", she sighed, although an idea had already started to form in her quick mind. "I don't think I'd feel comfortable enough. Besides, white stains easily. What about my grey worn?"

The maid didn't even try to hide her disappointment, but she knew better than to argue back. "Your dark grey worn or your light grey worn, my Lady?" she asked defeated.

Elise chuckled. "Light grey, if possible. The sun is shining brightly today, and with the good light it could in actual fact appear white. But as ir isn't, I'm not going to feel uncomfortable".

"Ohhhh" Martyna looked seriously fascinated. "My Lady is right, what a great idea! You're so intelligent!"

Would it be that this was all it took to be intelligent. the young Frey accompained her thoughs with a sigh. That was not the time for those kind of reflections, however, for there was another mission that she had to attend – and this time, in first person.

In fact, if sending further garrisons to strenghten Moat Cailin had been her first move as (unofficial) Regent, that other journay was her second: that had been, again, her own idea, and she'd had even more difficulty getting Maester Luwin to bend to it than she'd had with her other proposal.