Arya watched the men in Northern-style leather armor, her eyes on the white sunburst emblazoned on their armor.
The sigil of House Karstark. Men of House Karstark.
She knew that her brother Robb had executed Earl Rickard Karstark.
Not only did she know, she also understood how House Karstark now felt about House Stark.
While fleeing through the Riverlands, she had once encountered a band of routed Karstark soldiers.
At the sight of men in Northern leather armor, she had run after them, overjoyed, thinking she had found her own people.
But when she revealed her identity, they hunted her instead.
It was from those routed soldiers that she learned what her brother had done.
Arya's face was pale, but she gritted her teeth and refused to shrink back.
She gripped Needle tightly and stood beside Brienne.
Cregan's gaze lingered on Arya's face for a moment as he weighed his options.
He bore the Stark girl no particular hatred. In fact, he ought to thank Robb for killing Rickard and giving him the chance to rise.
But the officers behind him were different.
They were loyal men whom Rickard had personally promoted, and they stared at Arya with undisguised fury.
That was hatred for the Starks.
Cregan had no choice. He had to make a show of it before these men.
He waved a hand.
More than twenty Karstark officers silently spread out, forming a semicircle that trapped Arya and Brienne at the bathhouse entrance.
Brienne stepped in front of Arya, shielding her behind her back.
But her hands were empty. Aegon had taken her sword earlier, and she had no idea where he had thrown it.
She faced more than twenty sword-wielding Northern soldiers barehanded, her muscles taut, without retreating a single step.
"Get behind me," she told Arya