The Rumor Begins to Spread

Outside Winterfell, at Winterfell Market, stood the Hearthfire Inn.

The Hearthfire Inn was the largest tavern in Winterfell Market. Besides serving food and drink, it also offered lodging and entertainment.

Of course, certain people also exchanged information and gathered various rumors there, or conducted some private business deals.

La la! Da-da-da!

At that moment, inside the Hearthfire Inn, a wild and unrestrained bard was singing and playing one of Westeros's classic lively tunes, "The Bear and the Maiden Fair."

Commoners from Winterfell with some spare coin, traveling merchants hoping to make a fortune, mercenaries looking for work, and people from all walks of life gathered there, drinking and chatting merrily.

"Did you know? Lord Robb of House Stark defeated a superior number of enemies and killed dozens of Wildlings who had fled into the North."

When everyone was well-fed and deep in their cups, a plump, bleary-eyed drunk proudly tossed out his bit of gossip.

"Hic... Th-that? Who doesn't know that? Anyone who isn't blind can see that pile of Wildling heads at the crossroads."

A middle-aged man dressed as a merchant at the same table belched and mocked his companion's outdated topic.

"Then do you know about the Direwolf that accompanied him?"

"I saw it when Lord Robb and the others left the city that day. It was an imposing and terrifying Direwolf."

"Hmm, House Stark's crest just happens to be a Direwolf. Do you think there might be some unknown secret behind this?"

"Ahem!"

Hearing his drinking companions' discussion, the drunken fat man coughed and spoke in a low, mysterious voice.

"Let me tell you this quietly. That Direwolf was only a little over ten days old. It was still a little pup!"

"Impossible! Absolutely impossible! I saw it with my own eyes—it was a fully grown Direwolf. Fat Sunny, you're drunk, aren't you?"

As soon as Fat Sunny finished speaking, the man who had claimed to have seen the Direwolf immediately contradicted him.

"It's true. House Stark has six little pups in all, and Lord Robb's wolf is growing at an astonishing rate."

Seeing that everyone agreed with the other man, Fat Sunny grew anxious, and his voice rose considerably.

"My brother-in-law is a high-ranking official in the Main Keep. He told me all this himself."

"Hmph, no matter what you say, I won't believe you. How could something I saw with my own eyes be fake?"

"Exactly. Lots of people have seen that Direwolf. It's a grown wolf. Maybe the other little pups are its children."

"That's right! Nobody would believe that a wolf could grow from a pup into an adult in just over ten days."

"Fine! If you don't believe me, so be it. I can't be bothered with you."

Seeing everyone jeering and refusing to believe him, Fat Sunny lowered his head dejectedly and fell silent, drinking his sorrows away.

"However, I heard that Lord Eddard has already designated Lord Robb as his heir."

"I've heard that too. Some people even say that Lord Robb is a 'Young Wolf Lord' blessed by the Old Gods, possessing both wisdom and martial prowess."

"That's right, that's right. He pursued House Bolton's deserters through the night, defeated a superior number of enemies, and subdued dozens of savage Wildlings without a single casualty. He's completely worthy of the title 'Young Wolf Lord.'"

"And there's also the Wolf Guard he formed. Every one of them is brave and skilled in battle, capable of taking on ten men alone."

"Exactly! I heard..."

Although Fat Sunny did not speak again, the topic he had thrown out completely set the Hearthfire Inn ablaze. Everyone began discussing the rumors they had heard.

The North had enjoyed peace for so long that there had been no wars for years. Even battles involving more than ten people would be discussed over and over, let alone one involving more than a hundred people in total.

One had to understand that even minor noble families could support only a hundred or so full-time elite soldiers at most. The rest were farmers who doubled as local militia.

Thus, Robb's recent exploits were repeatedly discussed and spread by the commoners around Winterfell.

Creak!

The tavern door was pushed open. A handsome young man with brown-black hair and fair skin entered, one hand resting on the long sword at his waist. He wore leather armor bearing the Direwolf crest and was accompanied by several similarly dressed young soldiers.

"It's Lord Theon! One of the Wolf Guard Captains Six, Lord Eddard's ward, and Lord Robb's deputy."

"Tut, tut, what a grand entrance."

"I want to join the Wolf Guard too. Do they accept mercenaries?"

Hearing the not-so-quiet discussion inside the tavern, Theon could not help stopping to listen. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly as his vanity received immense satisfaction.

Thud!

Seeing him standing motionless, one of the squad members behind him lightly punched him in the back of the shoulder.

Theon immediately came to his senses. Remembering his mission, his eyes began darting around as he searched for his target.

His eyes suddenly lit up, and he quickly led the others over to Fat Sunny, who was drinking alone in misery.

"You're Sunny, right? Lord Robb requests your presence!"

"Hic! Lord Robb is asking for me?"

Fat Sunny, who was already somewhat drunk, looked up at the fully armed Theon. Suddenly, he remembered how he had used his brother-in-law's secret as gossip. He sobered instantly in fright.

"Help our friend Sunny here. He's drunk."

Theon turned his head and tilted it toward the squad behind him. The soldiers immediately stepped forward, hoisted Fat Sunny up, and forcibly dragged him toward the tavern's exit.

Crash!

Fat Sunny naturally did not want to go. As he struggled, he knocked over the cups and plates on the table, sending them crashing to the floor.

The surrounding drinkers did not want any trouble and hurriedly retreated to watch the spectacle from a distance.

Thump!

Theon frowned and punched the struggling Fat Sunny unconscious. The soldiers took advantage of the moment and dragged him out of the tavern.

After scanning the now-silent tavern, he took a small pouch from inside his clothes and tossed it to a waitress wearing a servant's apron. He casually slapped her on the butt and called out loudly, "This round is on Lord Robb!"

"Woohoo! Long live the Young Wolf Lord!"

"Lord Robb is so generous!"

"Little Lucy, give me a cup of Oldtown's golden wine!"

"Sorry, we don't have any."

"Oh, then give me a cup of fine ale!"

After Theon left the Hearthfire Inn, the bard inside continued playing, the music weaving together with the tavern's various clamors and noisy voices.

Everyone in the tavern seemed to have forgotten Fat Sunny and continued eating, drinking, and enjoying themselves.

Of course, certain people hidden among the crowd did not forget. They quietly left the tavern.

"So my master of the stables was a spy for another faction?"

In the study at Winterfell, Eddard looked into his son's eyes. With the index and middle fingers of his right hand pressed together, he rubbed his right temple and spoke with a frown.

"Yes, Father. Although I don't know which faction he belonged to, he had indeed been sending word of our every move to the outside."

Robb nodded to confirm this before continuing.

"Father, I want to establish an intelligence agency of our own. At present, all our information comes from outsiders, and we have no way to obtain accurate and useful intelligence in time."

"Where is the master of the stables now?"

Eddard did not respond to Robb's suggestion. Instead, he continued asking questions.

"He's dead. He didn't survive the interrogation."

"You were somewhat reckless this time, Robb.

"Although I know he certainly wasn't one of Robert's men, did you ever consider that he might have been an agent of the royal family?"

"Father, our family has loyally guarded the North for generations. Do we really have to worry about whether some unknown spy is an agent of the royal family before removing him?

"If the royal family wanted to slaughter our family, would we simply obediently wait to die?"

Smack!

Hearing Robb's words, Eddard's face flushed with anger. He slammed the table and reprimanded him. "Don't let me hear you say such things again. House Stark swore fealty to the royal family, so we must uphold that oath.

"Keeping our promises and honoring our vows—those are the honors our family earned over more than a thousand years.

"Do not mention establishing an intelligence agency again. The North is peaceful and stable; we have no need for such a thing. Enough. Leave for now!"

"Yes, Father!"

Robb clenched his teeth inwardly. Eddard's words had truly disappointed him.

But he kept his emotions hidden. After paying his respects, he walked toward the door.

When Robb opened the door, he suddenly remembered something. He turned and said to Eddard, "By the way, Father.

"According to the female Wildling I captured, they were driven into a desperate situation in Bolton Territory.

"But the encirclement leading toward our family's lands inexplicably disappeared, so they seized the opportunity and fled here."

"Father, perhaps...the North isn't as peaceful and stable as you think."

Thank you for the support, everyone, and for voting and following the story. Feel free to leave comments and chat when you have time. I'll keep working hard to write more!