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"Lord Wyman is right. There are too many things in this situation that don't make sense.
The first caravans that were attacked reported around a hundred Bolton riders. But as the attacks continued, the noble houses began reinforcing their caravans with more escorts.
Hornwood itself sent three hundred riders to guard a caravan, and it was still wiped out.
Do you really think that Ramsay, with just a few deserters, could really defeat all of them?"
Maester Theomore nodded and continued Lord Wyman's line of thought, pointing out the flaws he had noticed.
"Of course it wasn't just that bastard and a few deserters. Aside from that leech lord… who else could it be?"
Lord Wyman answered without hesitation. Then he shook his head, clearly unwilling to continue discussing the matter.
"Maester Theomore, what about the Young Wolf's request for us to purchase Myrish ointment on his behalf?"
"We found a salt merchant ship we already have trade relations with. They're asking for a deposit of two hundred Gold Dragons.
Lord Robb hasn't responded yet about when he'll send the payment for the deposit and the rest of the goods."
Maester Theomore reported the situation and looked at Lord Wyman, waiting for his decision.
Lord Wyman turned the gemstone ring on his finger a few times before speaking.
"Since the Young Wolf personally wrote to ask about this, he likely needs it urgently.
We'll pay the two hundred Gold Dragons for him and have the shipment brought as quickly as possible."
"Yes, my lord."
"Send a raven to Winterfell informing them. And raise the price of the ointment by fifty percent. We'll call it an urgency fee… and interest."
Maester Theomore nodded respectfully.
"We help Lord Robb, put him in our debt, and still make a profit. Truly worthy of Lord Wyman."
Lord Wyman's round face broke into a satisfied smile. He waved the maester off to handle it, then closed his eyes, thinking about what might happen in the North.
Between the White Knife River and the Sheephead Hills lay a sparse stretch of forest.
There, a Bolton camp of over a thousand soldiers was being set up.
"Father, those four Winterfell riders the Young Wolf sent to watch me… should we capture them?"
Ramsay stood behind Roose Bolton, slightly bowed as he spoke.
"Just have men keep an eye on them. It's not time to openly break with the Young Wolf yet."
Roose looked northwest, past the forest, as if he could see Winterfell in the distance.
"You did well this time. You didn't reject his plan to raid the northern caravans and shift the blame onto House Bolton.
Instead, you sent word to me, allowing us to turn his plan into something that benefits us instead."
"Of course, father. House Bolton is the foundation of my existence. Without it, I'd just be another bastard in the North.
But now all the northern lords believe it's us who are raiding their caravans. That could become a problem later."
Ramsay replied with a smile, showing his loyalty.
"Who said it's us raiding the caravans?
Soon enough, the northern lords will come to believe that it was Lord Robb himself who forced you to carry out these attacks… and then tried to shift the blame onto House Bolton.
Those four Winterfell men will serve as proof."
"And if those four refuse to testify?"
Roose slowly turned his head and answered calmly.
"A naked man can still keep his secrets.
But a flayed man has none.
I'm sure they'll tell the truth."
"Yes, they will, father."
Ramsay knew well how effective his family's art of flaying was. After nodding, he continued:
"But if we do this, we'll be openly breaking with Winterfell.
Lord Eddard is now the Hand of the King in King's Landing. If he returns…"
"Should House Bolton fear House Stark?
In the past, two Red Kings invaded Winterfell and flayed many Starks.
Besides, Eddard Stark won't be able to escape the troubles waiting for him in King's Landing so easily."
Roose had always been ambitious and extremely calculating. In public, he showed unwavering loyalty to Eddard Stark, but in private, he never stopped looking for opportunities.
This time, he had chosen to act.
The shift in leadership at Winterfell had created the perfect opening. On top of that, he had received a secret letter from a powerful lord in the West.
That made him believe he could throw the North into chaos and profit from it.
"Speaking of that, have the goods taken during this time been sent back?"
Roose asked.
"They've all been sent to the Dreadfort, father.
I told the Young Wolf that, due to a lack of men, we had to hide the goods in a secure location.
I even took that Sam to see the hiding place myself. Of course, aside from one chest I prepared for him to see, the rest were empty."
"Good.
The goods we've taken this time are enough to recruit several thousand infantry… or train a thousand elite cavalry.
They'll grow weaker.
We'll grow stronger.
It won't be long before House Bolton rules the North once more.
When that day comes, I'll grant you the Bolton name.
Domérik is dead. You will be my heir."
"I look forward to that day, father."
"Good. In addition to the men you've already brought, I'll leave three hundred cavalry with you.
There will be fewer caravans left to raid. Tomorrow I'll return to the Dreadfort to deal with the goods."
…
Inside Winterfell's strategy hall, a sheet of paper lay on the table in front of Robb.
Several names were written on it in characters from his past life:
Lannister
Bolton
Frey
Three-Eyed Crow
It seemed his thoughts were still not fully organized. Robb shook his head and picked up a dagger from the table, idly spinning it between his fingers.
At first glance, the dagger looked ordinary.
But it had been forged from Valyrian steel and had a dragonbone hilt.
To Robb, this dagger had basically been a personal delivery from Littlefinger.
When the assassin carrying it tried to sneak into Winterfell at night, he was greeted by Bloodwind and his pack.
After learning that Bran had been targeted for assassination, Catelyn was furious and decided to leave immediately for King's Landing to find Eddard.
Robb obviously couldn't allow her to be dragged into the political storm of King's Landing.
After carefully explaining all the risks, he promised he would find the one behind the attack.
That finally convinced Catelyn to stay.
Still worried, she sent Ser Rodrik to King's Landing to inform Eddard.
"Lord Robb, more ravens arrived today from northern houses accusing House Bolton of attacking trade caravans.
If this situation isn't handled soon, not only the lords but even the smallfolk will begin to grow uneasy.
After all, much of the North's supply depends on these caravans."
Maester Luwin entered the hall carrying several scrolls and finally spoke up.
"Hmm, I understand, Maester Luwin. Anything else?"
Robb didn't even look up. He simply nodded while continuing to spin the dagger.
Seeing that reaction, something that had already become common whenever House Bolton was mentioned, Maester Luwin sighed and continued:
"A letter has arrived from White Harbor.
Lord Wyman paid the deposit of three hundred Gold Dragons on our behalf for the Myrish ointment.
In addition, Lord Eddard has officially taken his position as Hand of the King and now presides over the Small Council.
A tournament will also be held in King's Landing to celebrate the occasion…"
"Robb! House Karstark has arrived! Lord Rickard brought several hundred riders!"
At that moment, Theon rushed into the hall, shouting.
Robb, who had been focused on the dragonbone dagger, heard him.
His fingers spun the blade once more.
Then, in the next instant, he drove it into the paper on the table, right through the word "Bolton."
Robb lifted his head.
His eyes gleamed.
"The time has finally come."
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