It would be hard not to recognize Tyrion Lannister. The dwarf was nothing if not distinctive, even if he'd had a nose the last time Robb had seen him. The sight alone filled him with quaking anger -- and then the dwarf mentioned the name Frey, and something came back in Robb's memory. A party. And pain.

The howl he let out, filled with rage and grief, was wordless; but the snarl that followed it might almost have sounded like "Lannister." Robb took a step towards Tyrion, his eyes alight with menace.

One tended to lose one's sense of diplomacy, it seemed, when one's head was switched.