Nobles of the North

Clip-clop!

A cavalry unit, bearing a banner of a merman holding a trident, escorted a lavishly decorated passenger carriage and over ten transport wagons, nearing Winterfell's south gate.

Having received advance notice, Count Rickard, tasked with the welcoming duties, spotted the approaching cavalry from afar.

He rode out with his son and the welcoming entourage to meet them.

"Haha, isn't this the carriage of the 'too fat to ride a horse' Lord? Won't you get out and greet an old friend?"

Count Rickard, known for his straightforward and hearty nature, shouted loudly as he neared the ornate passenger carriage.

"Stop!"

Hearing the gruff shout from outside, the person inside the carriage called for it to halt and opened the door.

Count Wyman, dressed in vibrant, expensive noble attire and portly in build, stepped out of the carriage.

He retorted to Count Rickard with a touch of annoyance, "Lord Robb assigned you, you impolite barbarian, to welcome guests to Winterfell. Aren't you afraid of offending all the North's nobles?"

Chuckling at his old friend's familiar teasing, Count Rickard dismounted with a smile.

He strode forward a few steps, and the two men opened their arms for a hearty, bone-crushing hug.

"Hahaha, you big fatty, long time no see!"

"Long time no see, you crude barbarian!"

After a bout of manly chest-thumping reminiscence, Count Rickard casually had his son hold his warhorse while he comfortably climbed into Count Wyman's luxurious carriage, continuing their journey into Winterfell.

"Big fatty, White Harbor isn't too far from Winterfell, why did it take you so long to arrive?"

Inside the carriage, Count Rickard unceremoniously picked a bunch of grapes from a platter and asked while eating.

Count Wyman, unbothered by his old friend's boorish behavior, replied with a chuckle, "I was waiting for the goods Lord Robb ordered, the ones on those transport wagons behind us."

"Oh!"

"Huh? Why aren't you the least bit curious about what it is?"

Count Wyman asked with some surprise, seeing his old friend's perfunctory response before he focused back on eating grapes.

"After spending time with Lord Robb, I've learned to do more and ask less.

I don't want to know about his plans."

Count Rickard first shook his head, then put down the grapes, leaned closer to Count Wyman, and said softly, "He's completely different from Lord Eddard, who prefers direct combat. He even outmaneuvered the cunning Roose Bolton, leading to the fall of Dreadfort and his own capture.

As an old friend, I'll give you a warning: Winterfell is not what it used to be. Don't harbor any delusions and stick to your own duties!"

Count Wyman listened intently, his expression serious, recognizing the shrewd mind beneath his friend's rough exterior.

Even he seemed to fear the Young Wolf Lord; it appeared Winterfell had indeed undergone significant changes recently.

"Haha, don't you know me? I just want to do business amicably."

"Indeed. I know you big fatty are very loyal to Lord Eddard, you certainly won't have any delusions."

"Of course. By the way, I heard both your sons are in the Wolf Guard and are now high-ranking officers in Winterfell."

"Hehehe, naturally. Do you know who their father is?"

The two old friends chatted idly in the carriage as they gradually entered Winterfell.

Due to the recent influx of many noble lords and family representatives from the North, the guest rooms in the main keep were already full. Count Wyman and his party were accommodated in the guest wing to the left of the training grounds.

The guest wing was specifically prepared by Winterfell for a larger number of visitors. The entire building had enough rooms to house all the guests, though the overall accommodation conditions were certainly not as good as those in the main keep.

Count Wyman was quite familiar with Winterfell's customs and, having come prepared, waved his hand, signaling a large group of servants carrying various items to enter the rooms and begin redecorating.

The servants carried an assortment of pre-prepared items: animal fur blankets, gold and silver lamps and tableware, fine wines, and delicacies.

In just a short while, they transformed the relatively simple guest rooms into luxurious and comfortable spaces.

This filled Count Rickard, whose financial situation was not very good, with envy.

If not for a servant from Winterfell notifying them that the banquet time had arrived, he would have liked to linger in Count Wyman's room, enjoying the wine and food.

The banquet hall's decorations, previously set up for a victory feast, had not yet been removed and were conveniently reused.

As Counts Wyman and Rickard entered the banquet hall, they found the long tables inside already filled with numerous Northern nobles engaged in loud discussion.

Count Wyman spotted some old acquaintances, such as a short but very sturdy middle-aged woman with graying hair – she was the ruler of Bear Island, Maege Mormont, mother of Daisy, Robb's personal guard captain.

A tall man, nearly seven feet tall, with thick muscles visible on his exposed body.

He had a fierce and intimidating appearance but was now beaming with a smile, loudly praising his son.

He was the Count of Last Hearth, Jon Umber, known as Greatjon, father of Little Jon, Commander of Winterfell's cavalry.

A small old man wearing leather armor embroidered with the six-thistle sigil of his house, his long hair disheveled, his face wrinkled, but his eyes exceptionally sharp. He was the chieftain of the Norrey Clan, Count Norrey, uncle of Owen, Commander of Winterfell's infantry.

After careful observation, Count Wyman noticed an interesting detail.

Among the Northern nobles present, only those whose offspring held high-ranking military positions in Winterfell had their territorial rulers personally attend. The other exception was the Count of Seaworth City, Meryn Seaworth, whose domain was closest to Winterfell, only half a day's ride away.

For the rest of the Northern noble families, representatives had been sent.

From a certain perspective, this indicated that some North noble families still harbored many doubts about the Young Wolf Lord's capture of Dreadfort and the imprisonment of Roose Bolton.

Before Count Wyman could ponder further, Count Rickard pulled him along and squeezed them into a seat at a long table.

As Count Wyman chatted with Count Seven, who had a kind face and spoke with decorum, the banquet was about to officially begin.

Lady Catelyn appeared on the high platform of the banquet hall, carrying Brandon and Rickon, who were being held.

"To all the lords loyal to House Stark, I, on behalf of House Stark, sincerely welcome your arrival.

The initiator of this banquet is the acting lord, Robb Stark, but as he is in the outdoor military camp preparing for tomorrow's review ceremony, he is unable to attend. I offer my deepest apologies.

But these cannot stop us from heartily drinking fine wine and enjoying delicious food tonight.

Now, let the banquet officially begin!"

As Catelyn's words fell, the doors of the banquet hall opened, and rows of servants brought in novel dishes.

Wyman's mind was still on the 'review ceremony' Lady Catelyn had just mentioned, but in the next moment, he was captivated by the novel delicacies on the table.

This dinner truly made Count Wyman, who had tasted delicacies from all over, redefine what gourmet food was.

There was a whole chicken wrapped in mud, which released an aromatic fragrance when opened; there were slices of pork covered in chili, over which boiling oil was poured at the end.

There was also a strange soup pot where various ingredients were cooked together in one pot, making diners sweat profusely.

According to Count Rickard, who was devouring food, these were all invented by Lord Robb.

Count Wyman, his mouth also full of food, felt that Winterfell had indeed changed a lot!

Thanks to the arbitration body, book friend 20210610132324504, and Shui Yun Shen Da Da for their monthly votes, and at the same time, thanks to all the readers for their daily votes and daily follow-ups.

PS: After a few transitional chapters, the next important plot will begin. Readers can guess based on the timeline!