"Lord Wyman is right. There are many things about this that don't make sense.
The first caravan to suffer the attack said there had been around a hundred House Bolton cavalrymen. But as the attacks continued, the noble houses began assigning more cavalry to protect their own caravans.
Kahoh City even sent three hundred cavalrymen to escort a caravan, yet it was still robbed.
Could that Ramsay really have swallowed all those caravans with a group of deserter cavalrymen?"
Scholar Theomer nodded, then continued Count Wyman's line of thought, laying out the problems he had observed.
"Of course that bastard couldn't have done it with the deserter cavalrymen. Other than Lord Leech, who else could it be?"
Count Wyman answered without hesitation. He shook his head, unwilling to continue discussing the matter.
"Scholar Theomer, how is that business Young Wolf Lord asked us to handle for him—the purchase of the Myrish Ointment?"
"We contacted a familiar merchant ship that transports salt. They agreed to transport an entire shipload of ointment exclusively for us, but we need to pay a deposit of two hundred Gold dragons first.
However, Lord Robb has not replied regarding when the deposit and the payment for the goods will be made."
Scholar Theomer reported the latest situation. At the end, he looked at Count Wyman and waited for his reply.
Count Wyman spun the gemstone ring on his finger several more times before speaking. "Since Young Wolf Lord wrote to ask about it personally, he must have an urgent need for this batch of ointment.
We'll pay the two hundred Gold dragons for him first. Have them bring the ointment back as quickly as possible."
"Yes, my lord."
"Send a Raven to inform Winterfell about this. Oh, and raise the ointment's price by fifty percent. We'll call it an expedited-shipping fee and interest!"
Scholar Theomer nodded at Count Wyman and said admiringly, "We help Lord Robb while making him indebted to us, and we make some money on the side. As expected of you, Lord Wyman!"
A smile spread across Count Wyman's fat face. He waved for Scholar Theomer to hurry and handle the matter, then closed his eyes and began considering what might happen in the North in the future.
In the area between the White Blade River and Goat Head Mountain stood a sparse woodland. More than a thousand House Bolton soldiers were making camp there.
"Father, what should we do about the four Winterfell cavalrymen the little wolf sent to keep an eye on me? Should we capture them?"
Ramsay stood behind Roose Bolton, slightly bent at the waist as he respectfully asked the question.
"Just have someone keep watching them. You can't tear off all pretense with that little wolf yet."
Roose gazed northwest, beyond the woods, as if he could see Winterfell. He continued,
"You did well this time. You didn't directly refuse his plan to have you raid the caravans in the North and frame House Bolton for it.
"Instead, you secretly sent someone to inform me, allowing us to follow his plan and carry out one that would benefit us."
"Of course, Father. House Bolton is my foundation. Without House Bolton, I'd merely be a bastard of the North, no different from the countless others.
"However, the nobles of the North all know that House Bolton is robbing them now. Our situation will be difficult from here on!"
Ramsay smiled broadly as he expressed his loyalty to his father.
"Who said we're the ones robbing the caravans? After some time, the nobles of the North will learn that it was the Lord Robb they serve who forced you to carry out the raids and then frame House Bolton for them.
"Those four Winterfell soldiers are the proof."
"Father, what if those four refuse to testify?"
At Ramsay's words, Roose suddenly turned around and looked at his son. In a gentle voice, he said, "Naked men have few secrets, but skinned men have none. I believe they'll tell the truth!"
"Yes, they certainly will, Father!"
Ramsay knew the power of his family's ancestral skinning craft. He nodded in agreement, then continued asking,
"But if we do that, we'll tear off all pretense with Winterfell.
"Lord Eddard is currently serving as Hand of the King in King's Landing. What if he returns..."
"Are House Bolton supposed to fear House Stark? Two 'Red Kings' once marched into Winterfell and flayed plenty of House Stark's people.
"Besides, Eddard Stark won't be able to escape the troubles in King's Landing so easily."
Roose had always harbored considerable ambition and was deeply calculating. Although he sometimes employed minor schemes in secret, he had always acted extremely loyal in front of Eddard.
The reason he had personally entered the game this time was that he had seized the opportunity presented by Winterfell's change of lords. There was also the unexpected secret letter from that lord in the Westerlands.
Roose felt that he could first throw the North into chaos and profit from the turmoil.
"By the way, have all the goods we've plundered during this period been transported back? And what did you tell the little wolf's people?"
"They've all been sent back to the Dreadfort, Father.
"I told him that because we lacked manpower, we had temporarily hidden all the goods in a safe place. I even took that Sam to see them. Of course, apart from one chest of goods meant specifically for him, all the other chests were empty."
"Excellent. The goods from this raid are enough for us to recruit several thousand infantrymen, or train a thousand elite cavalrymen.
"They'll grow weaker while we grow stronger. Before long, House Bolton will surely rule the North again.
"When that time comes, I'll grant you the Bolton name. Domeric has unfortunately died, so you'll be my heir from now on!"
"I look forward to that day, Father!"
"Enough. Aside from the men you brought, I'll leave another three hundred cavalrymen with you. There should be fewer and fewer caravans left to raid. Tomorrow, I'll return to the Dreadfort to deal with those goods."
Inside Winterfell's Great Hall, a sheet of paper written in Chinese characters lay before Robb.
The words Lannister, Bolton, Frey, and Three-Eyed Crow were written on it.
Apparently unable to find a lead, Robb shook his head and casually picked up a dagger beside him to play with.
Although the dagger looked plain and unremarkable, it had been forged from lost Valyrian steel, with a dragonbone hilt.
As far as Robb was concerned, this dragonbone dagger had simply been sent to him by Littlefinger through a courier.
When the assassin carrying the dragonbone dagger slipped into Winterfell Main Keep under cover of night, Blood Wind and his wolf pack were waiting for him.
After learning that Brandon had actually been assassinated, Catelyn was furious and immediately wanted to go to King's Landing to find Eddard.
Robb naturally couldn't let her fall into the whirlpool of King's Landing again. After weighing the pros and cons, he promised that he would definitely uncover the mastermind behind it, dispelling her intention.
But she remained uneasy. In the end, she still entrusted Ser Rodrik with going to King's Landing to tell her husband, Eddard, what had happened.
"Lord Robb, today we received more Ravens from various noble houses condemning House Bolton for attacking the caravans in the North.
"If this isn't resolved soon, it won't just be the nobles. I'm afraid the common people below will start growing restless as well. After all, much of the North's supplies are provided by these caravans."
Maester Luwin held a stack of Raven letters and finally couldn't endure any longer. He questioned Robb, who was engrossed in playing with the dagger.
"Hmm, I understand, Maester Luwin. Is there anything else?"
Robb didn't even raise his head. He merely nodded and answered perfunctorily.
Having grown used to this reaction whenever House Bolton was mentioned, Maester Luwin shook his head and continued, "White Harbor has sent word that Lord Wyman paid the three hundred Gold dragons deposit for our purchase of the Myrish Ointment.
"Lord Eddard has officially taken up the position of Hand of the King and assumed control of the small council. King's Landing is holding a tournament to celebrate as usual..."
"Robb, Count Rickard of House Karstark has arrived with several hundred cavalrymen!"
Just as Scholar Theomer was reporting various miscellaneous matters, Theon hurried into the Great Hall and shouted.
Clang!
Robb had been bent over, studying the dragonbone dagger. Upon hearing Theon's shout, his fingers suddenly moved with startling dexterity. He flipped the dagger several times, caught it in his palm, and violently drove it into the two Chinese characters for "Bolton" on the paper before him.
Robb raised his head, his eyes burning as he muttered, "The time is finally ripe!"
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