Premeditation

Not until the fat King Robert finally drank himself into a stupor, slumped over the long table with thunderous snores, did the excruciatingly dull feast hosted by House Stark finally come to an end.

The servants carried the drunken nobles back to their rooms. As for the others in the banquet hall, those who could still walk went home on their own, while those too drunk to stand simply slept where they fell.

When Robb returned to his room with Blood Wind, Theon had already been waiting for who knows how long. As soon as Robb led him inside, Theon reported that he had been discovered while tailing someone today.

"Theon, starting tomorrow, have Owen tail Jaime Lannister. Back when he was with the mountain clans, even the craftiest prey couldn't escape his tracking." After a moment's deliberation, Robb spoke. "Then, pick a few sharp Wolf Guard members and have them spread word in the villages around Winterfell that direwolf tracks have been spotted in the Wolfswood."

"Understood. I'll report back to you once it's done." Theon nodded in agreement, offering no superfluous words.

After this period of getting used to each other, he knew that Robb would tell him what he wanted to share, and prying wouldn't get him anywhere with what he didn't.

"How far along are the arrangements I made?" Robb asked.

"The goods have been handed over to us and are in transit. The shift schedules for the main keep's personnel have also been arranged."

"Good. Get some rest early. See you at the training grounds tomorrow morning."

"Good night."

Cersei swirled the wine in her goblet, shot a disdainful glance at Tyrion across the table, then spoke to Jaime beside her. "House Stark has produced an exceptional next generation. I've reported this to Father. What are your thoughts?"

"The lead bird is always the first shot. Geniuses are the easiest to cut down. I think it would be perfectly natural for this Young Wolf Lord to meet with some accident." Jaime replied nonchalantly, humoring his sister's topic.

He couldn't care less about the Young Wolf Lord; this was purely to placate Cersei.

Cersei, however, agreed with Jaime. She pressed the rim of her goblet against her red lips, pondering. "So, what kind of accident would be fitting and reasonable?"

"Heh! Plotting to murder your host's son while staying under his roof. You two really are worthy Lannisters, just like Father." Tyrion's face twisted into a mocking grin as he spat out harsh yet righteous words.

"Can't you ever say anything decent? Since you enjoy the benefits of being a Lannister, you should fulfill your duties and obligations." Cersei set down her goblet and bit her lip as she addressed Tyrion.

"Of course I can say decent things. Whores from the south to the north have all heard my sweet talk! Right, Jaime?" Tyrion first smiled and joked with Jaime, then dropped the smile and turned to Cersei. "Benefits? I cleaned up all that shit piled high as mountains in Casterly Rock, letting the Lannisters live in a clean environment for decades. Isn't that enough to repay you for the 'benefits' you've given me, a dwarf?"

"And in Father's eyes, I don't even bear the Lannister name. So don't say such things to me." With that, Tyrion slammed his goblet onto the table, jumped off his chair, and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Jaime reached out as if to stop Tyrion, but staring at his brother's retreating back, he found himself at a loss for words.

Cersei, however, glared at the closed door with venom in her eyes, biting her lip hard.

At dawn the next day, Robb arrived punctually at the entrance to the training grounds.

All the Wolf Guard, including Little Jon who had been dead drunk the night before, stood at attention in perfect formation.

Robb nodded to himself, stepped forward, and led them through their daily routine.

As the sun slowly rose, the quiet Winterfell began to stir.

The people of Winterfell were long accustomed to Robb and his men's training, but the visitors from King's Landing found it quite a spectacle.

At that moment, Robb was drilling the Wolf Guard in basic formation exercises.

On the corridor outside the training grounds, Prince Joffrey strolled by in his ornate coat. His golden hair shimmered brilliantly in the sunlight, and combined with his handsome face, inherited from his parents, he truly was a beautiful youth.

Many of Winterfell's maids cast longing glances at Prince Joffrey, hoping to catch his eye.

Though Joffrey wasn't particularly interested in women, he reveled in the attention.

When he reached the training grounds with The Hound and his other guards, he spotted Robb and his men training. He stopped to watch.

Seeing Robb and the others marching back and forth in neat rows, like children playing at soldiers, Joffrey couldn't help but burst into laughter, clapping and cheering. "Haha! What a lovely march, so orderly! What a wonderful training method! No one gets hurt. Unlike our warriors in King's Landing, who train with real steel and real swords—lots of bleeding, and sometimes even death."

The Wolf Guard couldn't miss the blatant mockery. Though they themselves had initially had doubts about this training method, they dared not voice them under Robb's command.

But after real combat, they understood the benefits of formation training. A well-ordered squad that moved and halted as one was far more effective in battle than a chaotic melee, and their survival rate soared.

So, hearing Joffrey's taunts, they could only seethe with anger, but until Robb ordered a rest, they maintained the precision and integrity of their formation drills.

Robb paid the prince no heed and continued leading the fixed formation training.

"Dog, have you ever seen any sissy army in King's Landing train like this?" Joffrey asked.

Seeing that Robb didn't dare respond to him at all, Joffrey turned his head even more smugly and loudly asked the Hound behind him.

"First time seeing it, Your Highness."

The Hound, wearing his signature dog-headed iron helm, replied in a low voice.

"Hahaha, I'm afraid from Westeros to Essos, Winterfell's training method is one of a kind... a bunch of sissies!"

"Pfft!"

"Hehehe!"

The moment Joffrey finished his mocking laugh, his guards—except for the Hound—all couldn't help but snicker.

Leading the Wolf Guard to the far end of the training ground, Robb, facing Joffrey and his men, suddenly stopped.

He drew the blunted training sword at his waist, pointed it diagonally forward, and shouted loudly, "Draw swords! Charge!"

Clang!...

All the Wolf Guard drew their blunted swords in unison, following behind Robb, maintaining their formation as they charged toward Joffrey's group.

Their eyes blazed with killing intent, as if the ones standing before them were those detestable Wildlings from before.

Clang! Clang!...

Watching Robb and his men charge, sensing their murderous aura, the Hound instantly pulled down his dog-headed iron helm, stepped in front of Joffrey, drew the longsword at his waist, and assumed a fighting stance with knees slightly bent.

The other guards' laughter died abruptly. Only after seeing the Hound's move did they react, hurriedly drawing their swords to protect Joffrey.

And Joffrey, protected in the midst of the crowd, turned pale. He had met Robb's icy gaze earlier and felt that the other party wasn't just messing around—he genuinely wanted to kill him.

"Protect me! Damn it, let's go, get out of here now!"