Robb heard his mother's words, lowered his head, and fell silent. He couldn't bear to look into her anxious and worried eyes.
This was the most painful problem for him. His father was dead, and his two younger sisters were still trapped in King's Landing. Every night, he dreamed of them, dreaming of their eyes pleading for help.
But he was now the King in the North and couldn't just consider his sisters; he also had to consider the entire North.
"If the Targaryens take King's Landing," he began slowly, "Sansa and Arya might..."
Before Robb could finish, Brynden suddenly interjected, "They might become captives, but captives are at least alive. If we go and fight the Targaryens now, that would truly harm them."
Robb took a deep breath, then stood up.
"Then it's settled," he said. "We will continue with the original plan to lure Tywin back. The North will remain neutral for now, observing the developing situation."
With that, he turned and left without even looking in his mother's direction. After receiving their orders, the others also dispersed. Only Catelyn remained in the tent, staring blankly in the direction Robb had left.
Brynden followed Robb alone and whispered, "You're not just preparing for this luring plan, are you?"
Robb stopped, turned to look at him, but didn't speak.
Brynden sighed, "You want to use this opportunity to capture more Westerlands prisoners and exchange them with the Lannisters for your sisters?"
Robb finally spoke, "Sansa and the others are my sisters, after all. If King's Landing is truly taken by the Targaryens, it will certainly fall into chaos, and I worry about their safety."
Brynden asked again, "What if King's Landing falls too quickly, and they are captured by the Targaryens beforehand?"
Robb looked at him, "Then I will take these Westerlands nobles and go to King's Landing to negotiate with the Targaryens."
"Negotiate?" Brynden's eyes widened in surprise.
"I know," Robb said, seeing Brynden's questioning gaze. "We have a feud with the Targaryens, but a blood feud is a blood feud, and reality is reality. The Targaryens have ten dragons, fifty thousand troops, possibly more, and the support of the Vale. How many men do we have? Even with the Frey family and other The Riverlands families who can still field soldiers, we have at most thirty thousand. How can we fight?"
Brynden didn't answer him; he hadn't held out much hope to begin with.
Robb continued, "If I can exchange these Westerlands nobles for my sisters, and if I can reach a truce with the Targaryens, I am willing to bend the knee to him. I will bear the Targaryens' wrath on behalf of my family. Father taught me that sometimes, family is more important than honor."
Brynden looked at Robb, complex emotions flickering in his old, blue eyes. If Robb could truly resolve the feud with the Targaryens through such means, it might be the best outcome now.
Brynden was silent for a moment, then said, "Alright, I will help you with all my might. But you must also remember that your own safety should always be your top priority." He now felt a pang of reluctance at the thought of such an excellent junior falling in this struggle.
Robb looked at Brynden's serious expression and nodded in agreement. When he returned to his tent, he saw Jeyne Westerling resting inside.
Jeyne was the daughter of Lord Gawen Westerling of The Crag. She wasn't considered beautiful, but she had a slender figure, wide hips, chestnut curly hair, a heart-shaped face, and a pair of captivating brown eyes.
When Robb personally oversaw the siege of The Crag, he was accidentally wounded by a stray arrow on the battlefield. Although the wound wasn't deep, he bled a lot.
After taking The Crag, Jeyne was in the Sept of the Seven praying for all the wounded soldiers. Seeing the injured Robb, she voluntarily stepped forward and used her soft hands to clean and bandage his wound.
Jeyne's gaze was gentle yet firm, not delicate like typical noble ladies, nor fearful when facing an enemy leader. Perhaps influenced by her grandmother, who was a maegi, Jeyne also loved medicine.
Since then, Jeyne remained in Robb's army under the guise of caring for the wounded. The two young, budding lovers, spending a month together day and night, developed feelings for each other and eventually succumbed to temptation, falling deeply in love.
However, their relationship was still secret, not widely proclaimed to everyone. Although Robb wanted to marry her directly for Jeyne's reputation.
But he was eventually persuaded by Jeyne because they were still young, and although they weren't abstinent, at least she wasn't pregnant like in the original story. And Jeyne herself wasn't ready to face her family's decision like this; Robb was, after all, an enemy of the Westerlands.
At this moment, Jeyne heard approaching footsteps, looked up, and saw Robb's slightly tired face. She quickly stood up and asked with concern, "Robb, is the discussion over? You look very tired."
Robb walked over to her, sat in the chair she had prepared for him, and rubbed his temples. "Yes, it's over. We discussed the Targaryens, but there are many other troubling matters." He didn't elaborate, just briefly mentioned it.
Jeyne didn't press for details, silently poured him a glass of warm water, and handed it to him. "Drink some water. Whatever it is, there will always be a solution."
But her voice carried a hint of subtle worry. The Westerlands were the Lannisters' base, and now with the Targaryen army pressing down, the Lannisters were somewhat preoccupied, and her family also faced an unknown fate.
Seeing Jeyne's concerned gaze, Robb's tightly strung nerves relaxed slightly. He looked at the daughter of this great Westerlands noble before him, a complex emotion welling up in his heart.
He knew that if his relationship with Jeyne were ever to become public, it would undoubtedly cause an uproar in the army, especially with the Frey family. They were still waiting for him to fulfill his marriage contract; their family's soldiers were bleeding and dying for him on the front lines, and their family's grain was supplying his Northern army.
But at this moment, in Jeyne's gentle company, he temporarily didn't want to consider those political matters; he just wanted to immerse himself in this brief moment of peace.
He took Jeyne's hand as she offered the water. Her hand trembled slightly, but she didn't pull it back.
His tent was made of thick cowhide, so the light inside was dim. Now, candlelight cast the shadows of the two of them leaning together on the ground, temporarily isolating them from all the games of power outside the tent.
In the Stormlands, near Bitterbridge, Renly's army camps stretched for miles. From a high vantage point, the tents and banners looked like a colorful ocean, with the Baratheon stag banner and The Reach's Rose Banner particularly prominent.
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