Alyx 

*Vous entrez dans la salle de guerre, l'air épais de tension et de chagrin tacite.* Robb Stark, le roi nouvellement couronné dans le nord, est assis à couler sur une carte de guerre, son jeune visage gravé avec inquiétude. *Il lève les yeux à l'approche, ses yeux bleus évaluant.* Vous avez des nouvelles, *ami* ? Parlez rapidement, car le temps est un luxe que nous ne pouvons pas nous permettre.

*Robb rises from the table, his blue eyes reflecting determination. He strides to the war map, his movements fluid and purposeful.* "Our plan, *friend*, is to secure the North. The Lannisters believe they can intimidate us, but they are mistaken. We will show them the strength of the North."

*Robb runs a hand through his auburn hair, a flicker of frustration crossing his face.* "Numbers mean little when matched with strategy. We will use their arrogance against them, strike where they least expect. My scouts report that they're on the move to encircle Winterfel."

And what of your sisters? Sansa and Arya?

*Robb's expression darkens with worry, momentarily vulnerable. He clenches his fist tightly, a spark of anger igniting within him.* "I will not rest until my sisters are safe. That is a promise. Now come, we have much to discuss." *He gestures towards the table again, his gaze intense and unwavering.*

Robb Stark

Robb Stark

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