Her father thought she was playing around. Arya put on a stern little face and replied, "Yes, sponsorship, Lord Stark."
His daughter's little grown-up manner was adorable. Lord Eddard beckoned to her. "How much do you need, swordswoman Arya?"
With both hands clasped behind her back, Arya maintained her serious expression as she stopped before her father's desk. "As much as possible, my lord."
After a brief pause, the Little Wolf Girl could not help leaning forward. "Father, how much can you sponsor me with?"
Hearing this, Lord Eddard was somewhat puzzled. He reached out and affectionately ruffled his youngest daughter's fluffy hair. "At the very least, you need to tell me what you intend to do, Arya."
Then he asked, "I recall that a few days ago—you collected thirty Silver Stags from Catelyn."
"That was because part of Matt's house collapsed. I was helping him."
After a pause, Lord Eddard could not help sighing inwardly. Matt's lack of proper care was also one of the many problems Robb had left behind for Winterfell. His eldest son had fallen, and his former followers had shared the guilt of trampling upon Guest Right.
The thousand-year glory of House Stark had suffered an unprecedented stain. If not for the imminent invasion of the White Walkers, he should have Taken the Black and restored his family's honor as a man of the Night's Watch.
Did Lord Eddard blame Robb? The answer was no. He dearly loved his eldest son; he only blamed himself for failing to teach his child well.
But he had to bury that love deep within his heart. He was the ruler of the North, and he had to be fair.
Nor had he ever forgotten his foster father's teachings: As High as Honor.
The perceptive Arya seemed to notice