That line of thinking was understandable. After all, Valyrian steel weapons mysteriously went missing quite often. Hightower, Royce, and Lannister had all lost swords.
Now, for the future of humanity, these ancient houses had been called upon to fight.
But the Storm Knights still could not arrive fast enough to keep pace with Gendry's slaughter. All they could do was mop up.
"Rosso, Hound, Strongboar, come with me," Gendry ordered. The Red Viper was already exhausted and remained behind to rest.
"The rest of you, follow Prince Oberyn and Lord Rodrik's orders and clear Winterfell."
"As you command, Your Grace."
"As you command."
After greeting the members of House Stark who had come to welcome him, Gendry and his companions rushed underground like a gust of wind.
The Stark crypts were an enormous pit. Gendry had no idea how deep they had dug, or whether those ancient Stark legions were still alive.
In the cold, damp darkness of the crypts, Rosso and the others walked ahead with torches.
"Just how many Starks are buried here?" The Hound asked in astonishment.
Burying ancestors beneath their castles was something of a Westerosi tradition, found in the east, south, west, and north. Customs such as cremation and burial at sea were the unusual ones.
Griffin Clinton's father was buried beneath a sept, and Casterly Rock's Hall of Heroes also housed dead Lannisters.
Gendry had seen the grave of the legendary warrior, the Hammer of Justice, at Barrow Hill, but Winterfell's crypts reached back much further.
"It's unbelievably cold," Strongboar remarked as well.
This place belonged to the dead Starks, with nothing but stone statues and decaying swords.
This was a hall of rest for bones long gone cold, a dark hall belonging to the dead, a place of terror that hated the living.