The mention of the execution was a blade to Robb's gut, sharp and stunning as it slid in beside the one which had sent him here himself -- Twin punches that, spectral or not, threatened to undo his fragile stability. He stilled in mid step but did not hunch, did not bend as he wanted, instead simply curling a fist tightly under his cloak and swallowing roughly down his guilt and failure.

Perhaps it ought to be phrased so casually. He ought never to forget it, gods knew.

"It has been quite some time," he managed at last, unsticking his feet and forcing them forward. "There is much that has happened. One of the others might be better at the telling."