Leading Wildlings toward the wall was a long, arduous affair, harder than herding cats even with all the advantages he possessed, but it wasn’t all he focused on.
For one, Wildlings proved to be surprisingly effective teachers when it came to magic, and with their assistance, he was able to figure out some new ways to use his magic, including how to warg into different animals.
It had been particularly useful because it allowed him to warg directly into Viserion and Drogon. It was supposed to be impossible, but his surprisingly effective magical abilities, combined with his affinity for dragons, allowed him to achieve it.
He didn’t use it much. He merely used it to observe the situation in Meereen and the other two cities, making sure that Daenerys had the situation under control, and a return wasn’t necessary.
Luckily, from what he could glimpse from the eyes of Drogon, the situation was well under control. Yunkai and Astapor were operating smoothly under the framework he had created, at least, that was what he assumed from Drogon’s limited perspective.
Meanwhile, Meereen slavers tried to pull some tricks after the invasion, setting an organization called Sons of the Harpy, determined to destabilize Daenerys’ rule by ambushing and hunting down the Unsullied.
Altogether, it wasn’t a terrible idea on a strategic level. Tactical decision-making was another issue, with their first move, trying to ambush Ser Barristan to make an explosive start.
Even in his old age, Ser Barristan had a well-earned reputation as one of the greatest blade masters in the world … that was before he learned how to use Internal Energy, which allowed him to not only return to his prime, but surpass it.
With that, the Sons of the Harpy had been devastated. Not necessarily by losing all their members, but such an insurgency required a lot of indirect support from the surviving merchants, sellswords, and other entities.
It was likely why they had targeted Ser Barristan, to prove their mettle. Once it backfired, the results had been catastrophic, most of their support disappearing.
It didn’t mean Daenerys had no challenge remaining. Pentos and Volantis had been gathering an army the last time he checked, but there, his disappearance should help. Until they could get news of his location, they should be careful.
The disappearance of a dragon rider who was famous for singlehandedly taking down a city was a tricky strategic challenge.
However, he was happy to confirm that there was no challenge that required his visit.
&&&
That wasn’t the only situation he had to keep an eye on. Luckily, the other situation was closer.
It was Moat Cailin, and Roose Bolton’s attempts to take over. He could have intervened directly. He was confident he could fight against the Bolton army altogether, let alone when most of the army was still on the other side of the moat, helplessly stuck.
Even in its collapsing state, while garrisoned by a bunch of panicking Ironborn, Moat Cailin would have created a dangerous barrier to the returning Bolton army, the kind that would have required a long siege.
Instead, it was Manderly army that was holding it, their morale sky-high, not to mention most of the weaknesses of the castle had been repaired with his magic.
It was why, instead of returning to help Sansa directly, he kept an eye on the situation by warging. It was a perfect situation for her to prove herself more than merely a puppet of the new Targaryens.
Naturally, he still made sure to wait nearby the night the Boltons decided to ambush the garrison from behind while they were distracted by the army, just in case some of them decided betrayal was the easy option.
It never proved a problem, Lord Manderly’s forces proving themselves to be disciplined even when the Boltons launched an ambush from behind.
The real star had been Sansa, killing about thirty ambushers by herself, showing that her internal energy training hadn’t been a waste; her Valyrian steel sword proving to be an even greater advantage.
Watching her destroy her enemies with an angry sneer on her face was very exciting.
He officially visited only once the ravens arrived, officially informing him of the victory. There, he flew with Viserion, knowing that it would help greatly to subdue the Bolton Army, especially since they were stuck in front of Moat Cailin, lacking the supplies to return to the lands controlled by the Freys.
It was a good opportunity.
When he returned to Moat Cailin, he didn’t land immediately. He circled above twice, making sure both armies caught a full glimpse of it. Since, at this point, Viserion was larger than most single-floor houses, they presented an imposing sight.
He landed in the courtyard, surrounded by the soldiers, whose morale was too high for a castle that was supposed to be under siege. He couldn’t blame them. Even without capturing the enemy leaders, the situation of Moat Cailin was unique, easily resupplied from behind while blocking the way of the opposing army.
When he dismounted, a knight greeted him. “Just in time, my lord,” he said. “The trial is about to start.”
He walked in, and the moment he did, silence reigned; everyone, including the prisoners, turned to watch him. Understandable, as the identity of a dragon rider was that special.
The makeshift court room was decorated with many flags. The biggest was House Stark’s direwolf, and right underneath stood Manderly's merman, and around them, several other noble flags from nearer holdings decorated the wall as well.
The real centerpiece of the room, however, was two chained figures. Roose Bolton, and his bastard, who, according to the gossip he heard, had been infamous in his own way.
“Lady Stark, thank you for the invitation,” he said, keeping his tone smooth and respectful, knowing that his attitude was as important for Sansa to settle her role. The stronger she was, the easier the Northern campaign would go.
Under more ordinary circumstances, the northern lords didn’t expect martial virtue or sharp ruling from their regent ladies, but the current situation was very far from ordinary.
“King Consort Rohar. I thank you for your timely arrival,” Sansa replied. “We were just about to start the trial of the traitors to the North,” she said, her tone getting colder as she looked at the Boltons.
He wasn’t surprised at the intensity of her anger. Even in ‘honorable’ combat, losing one’s family was a great source of sorrow, and what happened to Robb was the farthest possible from honorable. Getting ambushed at his wedding, while under the protection of the guest rights…
Yeah, he didn’t question her anger.
The trial lasted several hours, but for most of it, he did nothing, merely looking engaged while he practiced his magic. His lack of intervention made the trial even more reliable, supposedly showing Daenerys’ respect toward the Northern decisions.
Roose had a slippery tongue, doing his best to distort the facts. Rohar suspected that if he was dealing with a lesser crime, he would have survived, but after violating the guest rights, he had no standing.
Even his offer to take the black had been refused with barely a ripple.
Ramsay was less composed. He had been smug and confident at first, but once he realized that no one bought his harmless bastard act, he lost control. He screamed, cursed, threatened, and promised horrors that made several of the watching soldiers look away, a lot of it including threats of skinning them alive.
The details he used made it obvious that it was not a random threat.
Once the trials had been completed, the guards dragged the two into an execution platform, and Sansa handled the executions directly, wielding her Valyrian steel sword with perfect precision, taking the heads of Roose and Ramsay.
Sansa didn’t flinch, but he could see that she wasn’t very comfortable with it either. He didn’t blame her. Executing someone cold-blooded was harder than killing someone in a fight, even when one hated them.
[Feat Achieved! Help the Starks get their revenge
+1x Gold Random Gacha ticket]
After praying internally, he picked his reward.
[Animal Lover]
{Common Trait: All mundane animals like you, and non-mundane ones like you more easily.}
It was a decent reward, relatively weak considering the ticket, but it aligned well with his developing warging skill.
The Northern lords watched as their lady delivered justice. He was able to hear the whispers they believed to be secret, but what he heard was generally positive. The lords were happy that who they were dealing with was not a weak girl playing at lordship but a Stark, merciless enough to deliver death, yet responsible enough to swing the sword.
Northern priorities were … interesting, but if it worked, he had no intention of poking it. Not when he would soon end up trying to integrate a hundred thousand Wildlings, which would soon be followed by an attack by the legendary whitewalkers.
After the executions, he managed to find a small break to meet with Sansa. Once they were alone, she finally let her stone mask slip. He went to hug her, feeling her tremble. “I … I avenged them,” she whispered.
“You did,” he whispered, patting her back even as he infused her body with healing energies, making sure that her body stayed strong, with no harm to the child that was slowly growing in her belly, glad that internal energy protected the growing baby well.
“Do you think my father would have been proud of me?” she whispered.
“Of course he would,” Rohar said. He believed it. Things he had heard about Ned Stark painted him as a strong commander, a traditionalist, and an incompetent politician. Executing the traitors after a proper court would be something he would have done.
Luckily, under the circumstances, it was actually the correct political choice.
They stayed together for a while. “I’m still not sure what to do about the army,” Sansa said. “We can’t let them go back to the Twins and be recruited by Freys, but I don’t want to just forgive them either. They…”
He caressed her back, feeling her tremble. “How about I help you a bit? I’ll go deliver the heads of the Boltons to the army, along with an ultimatum. We promise forgiveness for the levies and smallfolk, and nobles will stand for trial. Anyone who supported Roose will be executed, and other nobles will be allowed to take the black?”
She sighed. “That’s an excellent solution, but when the commanders realized that it would end up with their execution, they would just refuse to cooperate, right?”
“Leave that part to me,” he promised.
As much as he wanted to stay with Sansa for the rest of the day, doing so would ruin the authority she had managed to build up, so he stepped out for a while later. While he went back to Viserion, Sansa gave an order, and one of the guards brought Roose Bolton’s head on a spike.
A rather indignified end, but if anyone deserved it, it was him.
Rohar took to the sky.
The Bolton army, or what remained of it, was camped five miles south of Moat Cailin, already chaotic after their failed assault. It was a significant force. Nearly six thousand men, four thousand of them belonging to the north, mostly Bolton forces, with a smattering of others, with two thousand from Freys.
It would have been enough to pacify the North if they had managed to breach Moat Cailin, but their path blocked, that was impossible. There were ways to bypass the impassable fort, but not by six thousand men without an appropriate fleet.
Their morale was already troubled after their failure, and watching a dragon dive from the sky with a rider had shattered what remained of their morale.
A few of them fired their arrows, but with his growing magical competency, waving his hand to summon a wind, dragging those arrows away, had been easy.
It didn’t help the chaos of the camp. Men grabbed weapons, horses broke their tethers, and a few enterprising souls immediately started running in the opposite direction, which included a substantial part of the Frey force.
Rohar stood on Viserion's back, raised the spear to display the head. He started speaking, his voice booming loud enough to be heard by the whole camp. “Heed my words. Sansa Stark, the Lady of Winterfell, Ruler of the North, decreed the execution of the traitor Roose Bolton. But, that’s not the end. Every single one of you deserves to be executed for the grave crime of betraying the guest rights!” he declared, and gave a mental order to Viserion, who targeted a nearby rock with his flames.
A little magical assistance from his abilities, and the rock melted like ice.
Just because he had a dragon didn’t mean he would stop cheating.
Thanks to his leadership skills, he knew exactly when to interrupt the growing panic before they started running away. “Luckily for you wastes of space, Lady Sansa doesn’t want me to burn all of you like you rightfully deserve,” he declared. “Instead, she offers mercy … to the smallfolk who have been following their liege lords. Help me capture your craven nobles that presumed to break the guest rights, and you’ll be allowed to return to your homes.”
The silence that followed was predictable. Nobles were used to a different equation, where they made the mistakes, and the smallfolk paid the price. Unfortunately for them, he operated under different sensibilities.
The silence was poignant before one of the nobles finally opened his mouth. “How dare—“ he started, but Rohar didn’t allow him to speak. He heaved the spear he was holding, Roose Bolton’s head still attached, which skewered him in the chest.
“Any other craven traitor who wants to talk,” he shouted. “The next one, I’ll let Viserion deal,” he said. To underline, Viserion raised his head, spewing his flames into the sky.
It was an intimidating sight.
One of the Frey’s chose to shout. “Just run. He can’t catch all of—“ he started to declare before the dragon fire found him.
Ordinarily, dragon fire had an effective range. However, none in the army could distinguish whether it was purely Viserion’s breath, or it was his magical assistance keeping the fire condensed.
But, thinking about it, he realized it wouldn’t make too much difference even if they realized that. He raised his hand, and a wall of fire appeared on the south, looking ready to cut their path.
Looking ready was the perfect way to describe it. The wall of fire was actually a light show, not even radiating fire, but against an army with flaundering morale, it had been enough.
Silence ruled the camp.
"Here are your options. Capture and tie the nobles for their trial, and you’ll be given fair treatment. Or, ignore the order, and I will teach you why dragonlords had ruled the Seven Kingdoms for centuries!”
The army folded like wet parchment.
Weapons hit the ground in a cascade of clattering steel. Nobles found out that their threats meant nothing when smallfolk had something else to fear. Most did the smart thing and surrendered, especially after he pulled his bow, and started picking off any noble who had the idea of pulling their weapons.
After half a dozen dead nobles, the others got the clue.
He chuckled at the show. “Who knew nobles could learn from their mistakes…”
[Feat Achieved! Defeat the Bolton army singlehandedly
+1x Gold Random Gacha ticket]
While the army slowly moved, he prayed to the divines of the gacha, and pulled his reward afterward.
[Nature's Child]
{Rare Trait: Nature subtly favors you, you tend to find fresh and healthy fruit when you go out for walks, you can grow a garden with minimal care, and animals and beings that are aligned with nature are more favorable toward you. In addition, you recover energy faster the closer you are to nature.}
He hummed as he felt the effects of the reward immediately. It was difficult to describe, but it was like he was trying to run against the wind, and it suddenly changed direction. A pressure over him dissipated.
It applied to Viserion as well, making him roar with happiness.
Ironically, it made the army in front of him move even faster, as they lacked the ability to discern Viserion’s mood, and assumed it was another angry roar.
What followed it was two days of tedium that he mostly stuck around while Sansa and the rest of the Northern Lords expadiated the trials. About one-third of the nobles that had been part of the army had been executed directly, as there was enough evidence to prove that they had actively participated in the plot, while the rest had taken the black.
To his surprise, a good number of the smallfolk soldiers also took the blackout of shame. He would have dissuaded them, but considering the anemic state of the Watch, he decided to let that pass.
It wasn’t like they would bring the overall quality of the Watch down…
After those handled, he returned to the Wall. He wanted to stay longer, but he could not, due to one simple reason.
The Wildling army would reach the Wall in a day or two, and without him there to observe, it was inevitable that it would turn into a disaster…