New chapter! Thanks for all the support!
x
"Hyah!"
"Advance! Whoever kills the most enemies gets first pick of the loot and the women afterward!"
"Haha, then it'll definitely be me!"
On the trade road between Hornwood and White Harbor, a group of around a hundred cavalry bearing the banners of House Bolton suddenly emerged from the forest beside the road. With lances raised and swords drawn, they charged straight toward a caravan ahead.
The caravan consisted of twelve wagons and dozens of riders, which was already considered a large caravan in the North.
The caravan leader, an experienced man, did not panic immediately. He frowned at the sight of the Bolton banners and, while ordering everyone to speed up, quickly decided to abandon three of the least valuable wagons to buy time.
But the Bolton cavalry didn't even try to loot the abandoned wagons.
They continued straight toward the fleeing caravan.
"Something's wrong! They're not after money! They're targeting us specifically. Stop advancing!
Form a circle with the wagons! Everyone around them, prepare to fight!"
The caravan leader, who had traveled between the North and the South for over a decade, had sharp judgment.
He immediately abandoned the escape plan and organized a simple but effective defensive formation to face the cavalry charge.
However, the mercenaries and free riders he had hired were no match for them.
The battle ended quickly.
After nearly half the caravan was killed, the survivors threw down their weapons and surrendered.
Clop, clop!
A series of hooves sounded as several riders approached the now unarmed members of the caravan, kneeling on the ground and surrounded by Bolton cavalry.
"Lord Ramsay!"
"Greetings, my lord!"
"My lord, aside from the dead, everyone is here."
As the riders saw who had arrived, they greeted him in unison. Alyn, his subordinate, stepped forward first to report.
"Hmm."
Ramsay nodded, then smiled as he looked at the kneeling prisoners.
"Who is the leader of this caravan?"
"My lord, it's me. The last time I did business in the Dreadfort, we greeted each other. Do you remember?"
The caravan leader quickly stood to answer, raising his head so Ramsay could see him clearly.
"Oh? So it's you? In that case, I'll give you a proper welcome today."
A dark smile curled at the corner of Ramsay's mouth as he turned to Alyn.
"Set up a flaying frame. I want this old acquaintance to go first. And do a good job. Make sure he enjoys it for a long time."
"No, no! My lord, I'll give you all the goods!
I have other wealth too. I can ransom my life! Please spare me!"
Hearing that Ramsay intended to flay him, the caravan leader, despite all his experience, was so terrified his legs trembled as he begged for mercy in tears.
"Very good. You truly are a valuable man."
Ramsay nodded with a smile.
Then, seeing the relief on the man's face, he turned to Alyn again with amused cruelty.
"When he dies, don't waste his valuable body. Feed him to my hounds."
"Hehe, as you wish!"
Alyn laughed knowingly and left with several men, dragging the caravan leader away like a sack.
"No! No!
Ramsay Snow, you bastard, I curse you! I curse you to die worse than me!"
At first, the caravan leader begged for his life. But once he realized there was no way out, he began shouting curses and insults.
Ramsay made an exaggerated expression of fear, stuck a finger in his ear, and spoke to the kneeling prisoners.
"Your leader insulted me, and now I'm afraid! So I'll kill all of you, just to make sure none of you bring me a worse death than his!"
"My lord, please! Have mercy!"
"My lord, we're just mercenaries! We surrendered as soon as your cavalry arrived!"
"My lord!"
Hearing Ramsay's words, the prisoners cried out from all sides, begging for mercy.
"Cough… Lord Ramsay, please don't forget our real objective today."
At that moment, among the riders accompanying Ramsay, a young knight spoke up to remind him.
"Oh, dear Sam! If you hadn't reminded me, I might have forgotten!"
Ramsay turned to him with sudden realization.
Sam felt deep disgust toward Ramsay, but kept a respectful expression as he replied:
"It is my honor to remind you, my lord. Otherwise, I would have failed the task entrusted to me."
"That's right. I can't interfere with his arrangements."
Ramsay nodded with mock seriousness, then turned back to the prisoners.
"You're lucky today. I, Ramsay of House Bolton, declare that half of you may live.
From now on, whoever is still standing last gets to leave."
After announcing his decision with a smile, Ramsay turned his horse and rode away.
"Ah!"
A mercenary who understood immediately drew a dagger from his boot and stabbed the man beside him in the neck.
That scream seemed to awaken the rest.
They turned on each other.
With fists, heads, teeth.
Trying to make sure the ones beside them would never stand again.
Hearing the furious shouts and agonized screams behind him, Ramsay's lips curled into a faint smile.
Sam watched the prisoners fighting with a pale face. His hands gripped the reins so tightly that his veins bulged.
After taking a deep breath and reminding himself of his mission, he led the three Wolf Guard behind him, all wearing similar expressions, and followed Ramsay.
The trade routes of the North were divided into two types.
One ran over land, passing through Moat Cailin toward the southern lands.
The other ran by sea, through White Harbor, into the Bite.
White Harbor was the main trading port of the North, located at the mouth of the White Knife River, where it flowed into the Bite.
It was a port that never froze. Even in winter, trade could still be conducted with southern ports and the Free Cities.
New Castle was the seat of House Manderly, built atop a hill within White Harbor's walls. A stairway connected the Wolf's Den at the base to New Castle above.
At that moment, Lord Wyman Manderly, whose weight could rival King Robert's, sat in his luxurious study, frowning as he read a letter delivered by raven.
"All caravans heading to White Harbor are being attacked by House Bolton cavalry? Even those directly tied to noble houses?"
After a long silence, Lord Wyman raised his head and asked Maester Theomore beside him.
"Have House Stark or House Bolton responded?"
"Yes, my lord."
The gray-haired maester nodded and continued calmly:
"Caravans that encountered Bolton riders usually had only half their men survive. According to reports, Ramsay Snow forced them to kill each other to earn their lives."
"Instead of killing them all to silence the matter, he lets them go. Is he trying to spread this through them?"
Turning the gemstone ring on his finger, Lord Wyman fell into thought.
His cunning was as evident as his size.
"Has House Stark or House Bolton responded?"
Lord Wyman continued.
"House Stark has not responded yet. Likely because Lord Eddard has just taken his position as Hand of the King, while Lord Robb, acting as regent, is still organizing Winterfell's internal affairs.
House Bolton, on the other hand, has responded. Lord Roose claims his bastard Ramsay fled with part of the house cavalry, and that he is already pursuing him."
"Heh, what a joke. Roose Bolton commands the second strongest army in the North, and yet he hasn't managed to capture his own bastard after all this time?"
Lord Wyman let out a low laugh and continued reading the letter.
"I think I smell something foul in the air.
Lord Eddard has just taken his post in distant King's Landing, the Young Wolf has only just taken control of Winterfell, and the North has already fallen into this kind of chaos.
But that 'leech lord' of House Bolton has always been extremely calculated. He wouldn't resort to something this crude."
x
x
x
If you're enjoying the story, don't forget to add it to your library and drop some Power Stones.
Your support really helps the novel grow!