Aftermath

"Ha, Robb Stark. Young, yet wise, and a skilled warrior. My mistake was underestimating you!

"But can you trust this bastard who betrayed his family and his own father?"

Roose's face was expressionless, though a soft chuckle escaped his lips as he spoke to Robb.

Before Robb could answer, Roose didn't turn his head. He merely shifted his eyes toward Ramsay, who was holding him, and said, "There are so many families in the North loyal to the Starks. They have no need for House Bolton, which is weak and disloyal.

"And since he was willing to sacrifice several thousand infantrymen as bait, do you think he'll hesitate when it's time to sacrifice you? My son!"

"Lord Roose, as a northern lord who's been renowned alongside my father, you're above such a crude attempt at sowing discord. It doesn't suit your status!

"Men, take Lord Roose into custody. Keep a close watch on him, and don't mistreat him."

Robb shook his head at the provocation and replied with a note of disappointment, then called for soldiers to take Roose away and lock him up.

Watching Roose being escorted away by several Winterfell soldiers, Robb turned to Ramsay and said, "Don't take what he said to heart. Once I return to Winterfell, I'll formally write to the northern nobility and name you, Ramsay Snow, Count of Dreadfort."

"Thank you for the title, Lord Robb!"

Ramsay bowed with a beaming smile. But when he lowered his head, there was no joy in his eyes, only a cold glint.

Robb looked at Ramsay's respectful bow with a smile of his own, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes.

"Ramsay, you bastard! Weren't you supposed to give us time to get out of the way? You owe me the lives of my two brothers!"

Suddenly, Sam rushed out from the side, his face and body wrapped in clean linen bandages, with only his eyes exposed. He charged forward, ready to attack Ramsay.

Robb turned and seized Sam's hands. His face impassive, he spoke gently. "Sam, focus on recovering. I'll handle this!"

"You can't blame me. My father's spies might have noticed something odd about how I let all of you go when I took over the Wildfire shipment.

"If I hadn't fired the arrow to ignite the Wildfire, we wouldn't have taken Dreadfort. For all we know, our heads would be on the castle walls by now.

"You should be thanking me for still being able to stand here and talk!"

Ramsay straightened up and rolled his head from side to side, making it clear that Sam ought to be grateful to him.

"You..."

Sam wanted to argue, but couldn't find a reason.

Ramsay was using the greater good to silence him. Without Ramsay as an inside man, Dreadfort really would have been difficult to take.

"All right, Sam. Trust me!

"Focus on recovering. I'll remember what happened to those two brothers. I'll make sure their families are properly compensated!"

Robb met Sam's gaze with sincere eyes. His words rang with conviction, and Sam's agitation gradually subsided.

Once he had calmed down, Sam nodded to Robb, glared at Ramsay, then bowed and took his leave.

"Lord Robb, please believe me. Things were too urgent at the time. Otherwise, I wouldn't have ignited the Wildfire so early.

"After all, you specifically told me to make sure they stayed safe."

Watching Sam's retreating figure, Ramsay spoke earnestly to Robb, who had his back to him.

"I believe you!"

Robb watched Sam limp away and nodded without turning around.

But in his heart, he finished the thought he had left unsaid.

I believe you. Even if things hadn't been urgent, you'd still have fired the arrow and ignited it!

Clearing out Dreadfort's people and spoils of war was an extremely time-consuming task.

After a raven was sent from Dreadfort to Ironstone Town, Theon arrived at Dreadfort with a thousand infantrymen in just half a day.

It was clear that Theon had been living comfortably while garrisoning Ironstone Town over the past two days.

He was positively glowing, full of energy, as if he'd been thoroughly indulged in romance.

The moment he saw Robb, he immediately gave him a detailed report on Ironstone Town.

Their army had marched into Ironstone Town without encountering the slightest resistance.

And at Robb's express orders, Theon had kept his troops under tight control and hadn't allowed them to sack the town destructively.

Of course, Theon's men had seized all of Ironstone Town's mineral resources, valuables, and stored grain.

Then, worried the soldiers might cause trouble, he'd had the military judges distribute the rewards for their victory in advance.

The Winterfell soldiers, now flush with their generous rewards, had headed straight for Ironstone Town's red-light district.

They vented their pent-up emotions from the battlefield by drinking and consorting with sex workers.

Well, the sex workers had been both miserable and delighted over the past two days. They'd earned heaps of Silver stags, but could barely walk without spreading their legs and supporting their backs.

Of the nearly two thousand Bolton prisoners, about fifteen hundred had been broken up and incorporated into the army. The remaining five hundred had been sent to the mines as laborers, to be freed after five years of work.

Though, judging by the average lifespan of Ironstone Town's miners, there probably wouldn't be many of them left after five years.

At least three hundred of the thousand infantrymen Theon had brought with him were Bolton deserters.

With the additional manpower Theon had brought, the remaining cleanup proceeded much faster.

Five days later, there were hardly any bodies or wreckage left outside Dreadfort. The damaged castle gate had been repaired and fitted with a new door, though the scorch marks on the walls would be difficult to remove anytime soon.

"Ramsay, while Sam stays at Dreadfort to recover, you can teach him how to develop a spy network and make contact with special channels. He'll take over those dark, dirty affairs in the future. You only need to stand in the light and be a good lord!"

Beneath Dreadfort's new gate, Robb sat on his horse and gave these instructions to Ramsay, who had come to see them off.

"Of course. As you wish, Lord Robb!" Ramsay replied, the corner of his mouth curling into a smile.

"Sam, focus on recovering, and study hard!"

Robb nodded and addressed Sam beside him before loudly commanding,

"Move out! Back to Winterfell!"

Awooo!

Blood Wind, knowing they were about to head home, raised his head and howled.

The great procession began its return from Dreadfort, with the cavalry first, followed by the many Dreadfort prisoners under guard.

After them came a long train of wagons carrying the spoils of war, guarded by the infantry.

The long column took a full half hour to finally leave Dreadfort.

Watching his family's wealth, accumulated over many years, gradually disappear into the distance, Ramsay knew that only the resources needed to keep the castle running remained inside. His smile slowly faded as he considered how he would rule his lands from then on.

"Count Ramsay, you have to rebuild Dreadfort and teach a fool like me. I'm sorry for all the trouble I'll cause you."

Sam, his linen bandages still in place, saw Ramsay lost in thought and spoke with sincerity, though his words carried a hint of mockery.

"Lord Sam, you're too kind. I'll be counting on your help from now on.

"After all, those five hundred soldiers in Dreadfort are all from Winterfell. They only take orders from you!"

Ramsay wasn't angered. Instead, he calmly asked for Sam's help.

"You jest. They're Dreadfort's guards. They only answer to the count, and obey your orders!"

"Heh. You're right!"

"Haha!"

The two laughed heartily as they spoke, but neither of them had any laughter in his eyes.