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The wooden door to the study shut behind him.
Robb stepped out, leaving Eddard behind, his face still stern and his mind lost in thought.
"Mother!"
As soon as he stepped outside, he saw Catelyn standing quietly to the left of the door, holding a tray with Eddard's supper.
"Robb, if there's something you want to do, do it."
Catelyn smiled at her tall, handsome son. She stepped closer and spoke in a low voice:
"Not everything needs to be told to your father. He can be… a little stubborn."
She then added gently:
"Of course, as long as what you do doesn't harm our family."
"Of course. I only want to protect all of you."
"I believe in you. Now I'll take dinner to your stubborn father."
"Alright, Mother."
Watching Catelyn enter the study, the heaviness in Robb's chest eased slightly.
At least someone understood him.
His father, Eddard, was indeed an excellent military commander and a just and honorable lord.
But he was no politician.
In the past, House Stark could afford to live simply and in relative isolation in the North.
But now, King Robert and his entourage were about to arrive at Winterfell, dragging House Stark into the struggle for power in Westeros.
Time was short.
So…
"Lord Robb!"
Lost in thought, Robb walked on without noticing where he was going until he reached the guardroom.
Several fully armed Winterfell soldiers immediately stood and saluted.
"Yes. Thank you for standing guard. I came to see the wildling."
"Yes, my lord. I'll open the door."
Inside, Osha sat on the floor in chains.
She lifted her head with effort and spoke in a hoarse voice:
"I've already told you everything I know."
"I believe you."
Robb replied calmly.
"In fact, I came to make a deal."
"What kind of deal?"
"Serve at my brother's side and protect him at all times. After three years, you'll be freed as a free woman in the North."
Osha's eyes widened.
"You're not afraid I might take him hostage? Or hurt him?"
Robb let out a faint chuckle.
"You're different from the other wildlings. You're smart.
And smart people fear death.
If you serve my brother, you'll have food and shelter. After three years, you'll gain your freedom.
It would be foolish of you to harm him… and end up being eaten by my direwolf. Don't you think?"
"Heh… what a frightening threat."
Osha gave him a teasing smile.
Then she stood up and stepped closer, her tone turning suggestive:
"But tell me… why show such kindness to a wildling?
Don't you southerners kill wildlings on sight?
Or are you… like that pretty boy… and want me to take good care of you…"
That "pretty boy" was probably Theon.
After all, only he would take an interest even in wildling women.
Robb thought to himself as he took a step back.
"Lady Osha, you smell rather… difficult to describe right now.
I'll have the servants take you to bathe and change your clothes."
At those words, Osha's seductive expression froze.
She stood there, visibly embarrassed.
Yes.
This Osha was the same wildling who would later remain loyally by Bran and Rickon's side.
Originally, her group was supposed to be wiped out in Bolton lands. Only three of them were supposed to escape and survive in the Wolfswood.
After wandering for months, they were supposed to run into Bran—who had just recovered and was riding for the first time—and be captured.
But now, the butterfly named Robb had flapped its wings.
The ripples of that change were already beginning to spread.
First nearby.
Then across all of Westeros.
And eventually… across the entire world.
The story of Robb's campaign against the wildlings spread by word of mouth among northern peasants and traveling merchants.
The title Young Wolf began to echo throughout the North.
His personal guards, equally fierce, became known as the Wolf Guard.
And as the rumors traveled south, the stories grew more and more exaggerated.
In some places, Bloodwind was said to be a vicious direwolf that devoured wildlings alive at every meal.
Others described Robb as more beast than man, someone who enjoyed eating raw meat every day.
At the crossroads where the Kingsroad, the high road to the Vale, and the river road met stood a famous inn called the Inn at the Crossroads.
Since travelers had little choice but to pass through it, the inn did brisk business year-round.
That day, a large group of distinguished guests arrived.
A golden-haired man with an extraordinarily handsome face rode in on a tall horse.
He wore the imposing armor of the Kingsguard.
It was Jaime Lannister.
"Go. Clear out the inn. We'll stay here tonight."
From atop his horse, Jaime spoke to the young servant at the entrance.
"M-my lord… there are other nobles staying here. I wouldn't dare drive them out."
The boy replied nervously.
"Hmm?"
Jaime raised an eyebrow.
The look on his face made the servant tremble, as if he might be killed on the spot.
"Kingslayer. What? Going to cut his head off?"
A deep voice echoed.
A huge, broad man with black hair and a thick beard approached on horseback.
It was King Robert.
And he had deliberately used the nickname Jaime hated most.
"No, Your Grace. I'll take care of it now."
Jaime clenched his teeth subtly and dismounted.
"No need. I like drinking with the common folk.
Only you pampered, highborn Lannisters like clearing out inns."
Robert spoke bluntly.
As he lifted his leg to dismount, a servant rushed forward with a stool to assist him.
Watching Robert enter the inn first, Jaime paused for a moment, lost in thought.
"Don't overthink it. Let's go inside."
A blonde woman, elegant and regal, stepped out of the carriage and passed by him.
It was Queen Cersei.
Jaime nodded and entered with her.
Soon after, Prince Joffrey walked in with a look of disdain, followed by his siblings and the Hound.
"Oh? So many interesting things have been happening in the North?
Hahaha! I just came from the south—I hadn't heard a thing."
The moment he entered, Robert was already seated with several knights, laughing loudly.
"Yes! I heard the Young Wolf has a savage direwolf that devours wildlings alive at every meal!"
Someone from another table chimed in excitedly.
"Hahaha! Young Wolf? Are you talking about Eddard Stark, the Lord of Winterfell?"
Robert asked with interest.
"No, no. His son. Robb Stark."
"Oh? His son?"
Robert turned and shouted toward Cersei:
"Dear, did you hear that? If only our useless son were half the man Ned's boy is!"
"That's right, my lord! That's exactly what I was thinking!"
"Ah… if my son could join the Wolf Guard, I could die happy."
Hearing that, Cersei forced a smile.
Without responding, she went straight upstairs.
Joffrey, on the other hand, twisted his face in anger.
His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword.
He looked as if he were about to lash out at someone.
"Hahaha! Drinks are on me tonight! You there—come tell me more about this Wolf Guard."
"Thank you, my lord!"
"What a generous noble!"
"The Wolf Guard is…"
…
In the town of Hornwood, Ramsay walked alone through the poorer streets.
He held the leash of a hunting hound as he moved down a dark alley that reeked of urine and filth.
He stopped in front of an old house with a piece of red cloth hanging by the door.
After making sure no one was watching, he went inside.
Inside, a figure in a hooded cloak sat waiting.
Ramsay broke into a bright smile.
He bowed respectfully.
"Greetings, esteemed Young Wolf.
Your loyal hound is at your disposal.
What would you have me do?"
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