Victory

The emerald flames reflected in Roose's pupils. Even he, a man who had always kept his composure, couldn't help staring in shock and disbelief.

When he came to his senses, he shoved the cavalryman beside him and pointed at Ramsay, who had vanished from the wall. "Take some men and capture that bastard!"

"Uh, yes, yes, my lord!"

The cavalryman, who had also been left stunned by the emerald flames, came to his senses and immediately prepared to take men to capture Ramsay.

But the guards at the gate had been wiped out completely, and the soldiers patrolling or resting in the castle wouldn't arrive so quickly.

After a brief moment of thought, Roose drew his sword and set off alone to capture Ramsay.

"If you don't want to die, get people here to put out the fire!"

Roose hadn't yet reached the castle gate, which was blazing fiercely, when he felt the wave of heat. He dragged a soldier whose legs had gone weak with terror to his feet and shouted at him.

The soldier nodded blankly, then ran toward the barracks shouting for people to come put out the fire.

Clop, clop, clop, clop!

The sound of hooves came to Roose from beyond the walls. He immediately realized that the wolf pup was outside the castle, waiting with his cavalry for the emerald flames to die down. Once they did, they would be able to charge into the Dreadfort without resistance.

Fortunately, the emerald flames were difficult to extinguish, which would buy Roose plenty of time to make preparations for the fierce battle ahead.

But then, through a gap in the emerald flames, he saw the Winterfell cavalrymen outside the gate behaving strangely.

Roose shook his head and sighed. Then he turned and walked toward the inner keep, ignoring the soldiers asking him how to put out the fire.

"Keep formation! Forward!"

Outside the Dreadfort, Robb raised his hand and swept it forward. The cavalry behind him rode toward the burning gate in neat formation.

Thud!

As they neared the emerald flames, they took the sacks tied to their horses and hurled them forward with all their strength. The sacks landed in the emerald flames with a muffled thump.

The troublesome emerald flames immediately caught the sacks alight. Clumps of wet mud spilled out of the burning sacks.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

The Winterfell cavalrymen threw their sacks and rode away, leaving those behind them to repeat the process. The entire operation was orderly and methodical.

As more sacks of wet mud were added, the emerald flames—which couldn't burn wet mud—were gradually put out, creating a path into the Dreadfort.

"Charge! Anyone who lays down their arms and surrenders will be spared!"

When Robb saw, through the muddy passage, people inside the Dreadfort frantically trying to put out fires and hastily form ranks, he immediately ordered the charge.

Hot! Scalding!

The Winterfell cavalrymen blindfolded their horses and urged them through the passage of wet mud, which was still burning on either side.

As they galloped through, they could feel the searing heat through their armor.

Screech! Aah!

When the Winterfell cavalry entered the castle, only a little over a hundred soldiers had gathered inside the Dreadfort. After one charge, the ground was covered with corpses and wounded men who had suffered nonfatal sword injuries and now lay there groaning and screaming in pain.

"Count Rickard, take two hundred men and guard this place. Little Jon and Eddard, take a thousand men and attack the three barracks on the left. The rest of you, follow me and attack the barracks on the right.

Anyone who lays down their arms and surrenders will be spared. The spoils and women will be divided after the battle. Anyone who dares disobey my orders will be executed by my own hand!"

After leading Blood Wind through the searing passage at the gate and entering the hard-to-defend Dreadfort, Robb immediately issued orders according to the plan they had made beforehand.

"Good! I'll hold the gate!"

"Yes!"

"Understood, Lord Robb!"

The Winterfell commanders around him nodded solemnly at his orders, then led their assigned men into action.

"Lord Robb!"

Sam, his skin badly burned, limped out from behind a stone block in a corner, supporting a one-armed Wolf Guard. He called out to Robb, who was about to lead men into battle.

"Medic! Treat them at once! Do whatever it takes to heal them!"

Seeing Sam and the other man with their severe burns, their faces as battered as The Hound's, Robb felt a pang in his heart and immediately shouted behind him.

The medics, with linen wrapped around their heads and wooden chests slung over their shoulders, came out of the ranks and hurried over to treat Sam and the Wolf Guard.

"What about the other two brothers?"

Robb looked past Sam and asked anxiously.

After carefully handing the one-armed Wolf Guard he was supporting over to a medic, Sam heard Robb's question. His expression turned sorrowful, tears glimmered in his eyes, and he weakly shook his head.

Robb saw his reaction and clenched his teeth. "Once I take the Dreadfort, you'll have earned the greatest merit."

"Everyone, follow me! Charge!"

"Aah!"

With the final scream of a Bolton swordsman, Robb captured the last barracks on the Dreadfort's right.

By now, he was covered in blood, both his enemies' and his own.

The siege inside the Dreadfort was completely different from the cavalry raid that had gone so smoothly before.

Apart from a small number who surrendered without a fight, most of the Bolton soldiers fought bravely.

They knew the Dreadfort's layout well. At a corridor corner, they caught Robb by surprise and slashed his left arm.

But red mist kept flowing into his body, and the sword wound in his left arm didn't hinder him at all. He'd just found a moment to check it, and the wound had already stopped bleeding on its own.

Blood Wind was happily munching on snacks, lively as ever, but from the outside, he looked even more seriously injured.

An arrow was embedded in each of Blood Wind's back, left leg, and left haunch. The Bolton archers had ambushed him; after all, his huge frame made an excellent target.

But they'd only managed it because he was focused on fighting and had been attacked from behind. If they'd shot at him from the front, his eyesight and speed would have let him dodge easily.

Worried that absorbing too much red mist might make him lose control, Robb had spent all his Blood Contract Points on Blood Wind's attributes in advance. During the battle, whenever he had a moment, he kept adding points in real time.

Robb currently had around twenty Blood Contract Points, while Blood Wind's other two attributes were about to catch up with his Constitution again.

After capturing the barracks on the right, Robb led the Winterfell soldiers out of the castle, escorting the few soldiers who had surrendered.

Dawn had broken, and the sky was filled with rosy clouds. Unbeknownst to them, they had fought through the entire night.

As soon as he reached the Training Ground near the Dreadfort's gate, Robb saw Jon and Eddard hurrying over with their soldiers, apparently intending to reinforce him.

Perhaps the resistance they'd faced hadn't been very fierce. The soldiers led by Little Jon and Eddard bore signs of battle, but they were nowhere near as battered as Robb's men.

"We... won!"

Looking at the Winterfell soldiers who were loyal to him and had fought for him, Robb clenched his right fist, thrust it into the air, and shouted.

"Woo!"

All the Winterfell soldiers roared at the top of their lungs, their faces alight with excitement as they stood tall and proud. The surrendering soldiers, meanwhile, hung their heads even lower.