Trade

On the training grounds of Dreadfort, a troop of Winterfell soldiers was meticulously verifying the identities of surrendered soldiers and other captives one by one.

Once identified, the captives would be assigned to teams, guarded by other Winterfell soldiers, tasked with clearing the bodies and wreckage after the battle.

Robb sat in the back seat of an emptied ox cart, with medics tending to a sword wound on his left arm.

Beside him, two other medics were pulling an arrow from and cleaning the wounds of Blood Wind, who lay lazily on the ground.

Blood Wind certainly didn't want strangers getting close and touching him, but Robb was constantly reassuring him mentally.

The mere act of pulling the arrow, which made Blood Wind whimper in pain, was enough to make them seem like snacks.

"Have you found Roose Bolton?"

Watching Eddard, who was overseeing the headcount on the training grounds, Robb turned his head and asked Little Jon beside him.

"We haven't found him yet. We've dispatched search parties... Lord Robb, look over there!"

Little Jon, clad in full plate armor, spoke with a muffled voice. As he was answering Robb's question, he suddenly pointed to the right.

Robb followed the direction Little Jon pointed. Beneath the city wall on the right, a hidden door had been opened.

Roose, with a dagger at his throat and his hands bound behind his back, was being escorted, his face ashen, step by step towards Robb.

The one holding the dagger and escorting Roose was his bastard son, Ramsay.

Ramsay, sporting his signature smile, saw Robb's gaze sweep over him and waved with his free left hand.

As they drew closer, Ramsay looked at Robb's blood-stained face, and the scene of their last meeting flashed before his eyes.

In a dilapidated hovel in Hornwood.

"Esteemed Young Wolf Lord, your loyal Hound greets you.

May I ask if you have any orders for me?"

Inside the room, Robb, cloaked and with his face hidden, heard Ramsay's affected words.

He yanked off his hood and chuckled, "Heh, Ramsay, I probably understand you better than your father does. Stop acting, let's talk normally."

"Lord Robb, your Hound doesn't quite understand the meaning of that sentence."

"You poisoned your elder brother, Domeric Bolton, Lord Roose's eldest son!"

Hearing Robb's sudden accusation, Ramsay's smile froze on his face.

The air in the dilapidated hovel suddenly fell silent, and the two stared at each other wordlessly for a long while.

The smile gradually disappeared from Ramsay's face. Finally, he spoke expressionlessly, "I don't know where you heard this absurd rumor. I'm just very curious why Lord Robb is so interested in me?"

"Hmm, if you say it's a rumor, then it's a rumor! I'll make a long story short, let's make a deal!"

Hearing Ramsay's denial, Robb shrugged indifferently, not bothering to answer his question, and got straight to the point.

"What deal?"

Hearing Robb get to the point, Ramsay stopped dwelling on the previous question and asked.

Robb suddenly stood up, placed his hands on the broken wooden table, leaned forward, and whispered, "Help me destroy most of Dreadfort's army and kill Roose Bolton. I'll make you the Earl of Dreadfort, Ramsay Bolton."

"Hahaha! I am my father's only son, and I will surely inherit Dreadfort. Young Wolf Lord, do you take me for a child? Making a deal with me using what's already mine."

Ramsay didn't vehemently refute or reject Robb's words about destroying the Bolton army and killing his father.

Instead, he was very dissatisfied with the reward offered in Robb's deal.

"Is that so? Lord Roose is currently at the peak of his health. Let alone whether he can live to seventy or eighty.

If one day he's in the mood, like that old beast from House Frey, and he has another ten or eight sons, are you sure he'll pass the title to you?

Hmm? Lord Ramsay Snow!"

Hearing Ramsay's apparent ambition for Dreadfort, Robb smiled and shook his head, speaking in a light tone.

This statement seemed to strike a chord with Ramsay. He didn't reply immediately but pondered in silence for a moment before asking, "House Bolton is my foundation. You're asking me to destroy most of the army.

When Dreadfort is in your hands, you can simply go back on your word and kill me at will, right, Lord Robb?"

"Ramsay, do you think I'm an idiot?"

Robb immediately retorted upon hearing this.

"Of course not. I think you are more intelligent than the rumors suggest."

Ramsay was caught off guard by Robb's question and quickly shook his head in denial.

"Heh, don't use the word intelligent, I don't particularly like it.

Speaking of which, as long as I'm not an idiot, as long as I still want to rule the North as a lord, I won't do that.

Breaking oaths and harming one's loyal subjects would tarnish the honor of House Stark for a thousand years. My father Eddard would never allow me to do such a thing."

Hearing Ramsay praise his intelligence, Robb subconsciously frowned, then smiled and said, "Once you've betrayed your family and your father, your only reliance will be me.

Since I'm not worried about you betraying me, and you are a very capable person, why would I want to kill you?"

I believe we will become the closest of partners. I swear it by the old gods and the new!"

Robb started with a smile, but his tone grew more serious as he spoke, and finally, he raised his hand to swear.

Whether it was the sincerity of Robb's words or the weight of Eddard and the names of the old gods and the new.

After hearing this, Ramsay smiled at Robb and then knelt on one knee, saying to him, "You are my liege lord. From this day until my dying breath!"

After hearing Ramsay's oath, Robb, with a moved expression, walked around the worn wooden table in front of him and pulled him up, saying, "From now on, we are like His Majesty the King and my father, both lord and vassal, and brothers!"

"Yes, what are your orders this time?"

"I heard from others that you have many spies under your command and extensive channels."

"I want you to help me find some wildfire through special channels and pack it into custom wine barrels. The faster and more discreet, the better. As for the gold dragons to purchase the wildfire, I will have a trusted attendant bring them."

"That's no problem. As long as there are gold dragons, everything is negotiable."

"Also, I want you to inform your father that I wish to raid..."

"Ramsay, well done! I will reward your contributions handsomely."

Seeing Ramsay approaching, somewhat lost in thought, Robb spoke first with a joyful expression.

"Lord Robb, you are too kind. All of this is thanks to you."

Ramsay, snapping back to attention, replied with a respectful expression.

Robb didn't argue about the credit anymore. He stepped forward and, with an encouraging pat on Ramsay's shoulder, turned to look at Roose, whom he had captured. He smiled and said, "The Seven Kingdoms have always thought that our House Stark's words, 'Winter is Coming,' were merely a warning or a threat.

Well, now... Winter is here, Lord Roose!"