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Stone Hedge was the main mining center of House Bolton. In normal times, at least five hundred Bolton soldiers were stationed there, and with the wealth generated by the mines, the town was quite prosperous.
When the first caravan leader who was massacred by Ramsay mentioned he was heading to the Dreadfort for business, he was actually referring to trade in Stone Hedge.
Compared to any other kind of business, Stone Hedge's brothel district could be considered the most luxurious.
After all, if even the undisciplined rangers of the Wall could sustain the pleasure industry of Mole's Town, it wasn't hard to imagine how lively it was.
Since Roose had recently called up all the soldiers from his lands, the brothel district of Stone Hedge was crowded every day.
Those soldiers were either "fighting" with prostitutes… or fighting each other.
A sharp blast of a horn suddenly echoed.
In an instant, the entire brothel district of Stone Hedge erupted into chaos, like an anthill suddenly flooded.
Many soldiers, still with their clothes disheveled, rushed toward the sound while trying to pull themselves together.
To the east of Stone Hedge stood a Bolton military outpost.
After a brief period of noise and confusion, four thousand Bolton soldiers had already formed up.
There were so many of them that the formation extended beyond the gates of the outpost.
Locke stood at the front with a stern expression. Once the four thousand men finished assembling, he gave a brief speech, then pointed forward and ordered the army to march.
Locke had no expectations for this war.
Because from the very beginning, he already knew House Bolton would win this war.
Not only because of Lord Roose's cunning, but also because House Bolton held a hidden card.
Clop! Clop! Clop!
A large unit of heavy cavalry passed in front of him.
Both men and horses were covered in iron armor. Mounted on armored horses, these riders holding shields and lances radiated an overwhelming sense of power.
The siege of the Dreadfort had already reached its sixth day.
On the previous day, the second assault had repeated the same result as the first.
After losing several hundred infantry, the Winterfell army still hadn't even managed to set foot on the walls.
At the start of that day, the morale of Winterfell's infantry was already low.
If not for the supervision unit positioned behind them, they might not even have been willing to enter Bolton attack range.
The third assault was completely different from the first.
This time, Winterfell's losses were much lower.
Because those soldiers had no intention of taking the fortress. They stayed hidden beneath their wooden shields at the base of the walls and barely attempted to advance.
After a long period with no progress, the Winterfell soldiers left behind the bodies of a few unlucky men and retreated in a hurry back to the allied camp.
Trogg was one of the infantry commanders of Winterfell, responsible for more than a thousand soldiers.
After seeing how poorly the third assault had been carried out, he shook his head and headed toward the tents behind the front line.
The four thousand tents of Winterfell's infantry occupied the front half of the camp, closest to the Dreadfort.
Meanwhile, the Karstark cavalry led by Lord Rickard occupied the rear half.
As for the logistics wagons, they were arranged in horizontal rows at the very back, almost as if they were meant to prevent the allied soldiers from fleeing.
In addition, the Stark and Karstark camps were clearly separated, and Karstark knights guarded the space between them.
Trogg had long held resentment.
The nearly six hundred Karstark cavalry occupied the same amount of tents as the four thousand Winterfell infantry.
Wasn't that blatant favoritism?
And on top of that, after nearly three days of assaults, there had been no sign of those cavalrymen on the battlefield.
It was true that cavalry was not suited for siege assaults.
But at the very least, they should have been patrolling the surrounding area to prevent enemy cavalry raids or incoming reinforcements.
In the current situation, without Karstark cavalry support, if the Winterfell infantry encountered enemy riders, they would be slaughtered without resistance.
"Stop. Without Lord Rickard's permission, no one is allowed to enter the rear camp."
Trogg was walking with his head down when he was blocked by a knight ahead.
"I'm Trogg, commander of Winterfell infantry. I have suggestions regarding the siege and wish to meet Lord Rickard."
Although anger was building inside him, Trogg spoke in a steady voice.
"Lord Rickard's orders are to continue attacking the Dreadfort. He doesn't need suggestions. You only need to obey."
The knight clearly had no intention of letting him pass and rejected his request immediately.
Hearing that, Trogg's anger flared.
He and his men had answered Lord Robb's call with loyalty, willing to fight for him.
But the commander chosen by Robb was doing nothing but sending them to die.
That sense of wasted loyalty finally pushed Trogg over the edge.
"I believe Lord Rickard's siege tactics have serious flaws. We, the soldiers of Winterfell, will not die for nothing. We will not continue this attack."
"Refusing military orders is punishable by execution from the supervision unit."
"Then come! Let's see whether you have more men… or we do!"
The loud argument quickly drew the attention of nearby soldiers.
In small groups, they watched Trogg and the knight, whispering among themselves.
"That's enough. Stop arguing. Lord Rickard ordered you to come in."
A Karstark knight ran over from the rear tents, cut off the argument, and spoke to Trogg.
With his face red from anger, Trogg didn't want to waste any more time arguing. He straightened his posture and walked past the knight with his head held high.
At the center of the rear camp stood a tent much larger than the others.
That was Lord Rickard's tent.
Trogg noticed a large number of mounted knights guarding it.
Every few steps, there was another guard.
Lord Rickard is far too cautious.
With a dissatisfied expression, Trogg muttered this to himself as he entered the tent.
Some time later, Trogg came out with a respectful expression, still maintaining a posture of deference.
But as soon as the tent flap closed completely behind him, his face lit up with excitement, and he hurried back to his own tent.
Once there, he immediately gathered the other infantry commanders assigned to the battle and declared:
"Tomorrow we launch a full assault. This time… we go all in."
On the seventh day of the siege of the Dreadfort, while birds still flew freely in the sky and the first rays of sunlight had just touched the walls, a heavy horn shattered the silence.
The defenders of the Dreadfort quickly realized that this attack was completely different.
Not only were there far more infantry advancing under the wooden shields, but their speed was much faster.
"Prepare the defenses. You, go inform Lord Roose immediately."
On the walls of the Dreadfort, an officer in charge noticed the abnormality and made his decision without hesitation.
Soon after, the battle for the Dreadfort was in full swing.
The Bolton defenders continued using the same methods: arrows, stones, and boiling oil.
But this time, the allied army's morale was completely different, and the intensity of the attack was far more ferocious.
Whenever a Bolton soldier exposed himself to throw something from the wall, Winterfell archers below immediately focused their fire on him.
Seeing their comrades fall one after another, the defenders began to feel suffocating pressure under the enemy's arrows.
On the siege ladders pressed against the walls, allied soldiers had already climbed a significant distance.
They were getting closer to the top.
At that moment, Roose appeared, bringing with him the soldiers who had been resting.
Calm as ever, he began directing reinforcements, ordering them to quickly fill the gaps.
"Do not panic. Hold every position. Victory in this war will be ours."
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