Warrior's Tomb

As Roose, clad in shackles, rode along, Robb followed at a leisurely pace atop the giant Direwolf. The Winterfell soldiers at the camp's southern gate turned as one and followed them toward the raised platform.

When Robb and the others reached the front of the platform, the northern nobles felt Blood Wind's oppressive presence more keenly than ever.

A tall, powerful Northern warhorse and a Direwolf as tall as one were two entirely different things.

Blood Wind stood below the platform, his gaze icy, seeming to brim with a bloodthirsty desire to kill. A wild predator's aura poured from him, like an invisible web that bound the northern nobles fast.

At that moment, the nobles could hardly have dared to speak. They even slowed their breathing, afraid that one heavy breath might provoke the fearsome predator into attacking.

Robb, seated on Blood Wind's broad back, saw that he had achieved the effect he wanted and sent a thought to Blood Wind.

As Blood Wind gradually reined in his wild aura, the fur on his body settled, lying sleek against his skin instead of standing on end. The murderous hunger in his eyes faded, and his usual intelligence and liveliness returned.

Huff! Huff!

As if thawing all at once, the northern nobles in the stands immediately began taking deep breaths.

Count Wyman's heart was still pounding wildly. Only then did he have time to turn and look at his old friend. Count Rickard was doing the same, breathing deeply.

The Blood Wind he usually saw was docile with Robb at his side—not the dangerous predator he had just witnessed. In a sense, this was the first time he had truly seen Blood Wind's other side.

Little Jon and four others escorted Roose up the stairs beside the platform. Blood Wind, who stood even taller than the platform, went straight to its side, and Robb swung down and climbed onto it.

Having completed his task, Blood Wind lazily curled up in the snow below the platform, unbothered by the cold.

Seeing Robb on the platform, Theon nodded to him, then stepped aside and stood quietly at his side.

On the platform, Eddard and his brother forced Roose to his knees in the center. He faced the ranks of Winterfell soldiers arrayed outside the platform, with the northern nobles in the stands on either side behind him.

Theon and the other three stood silently around the platform. Robb took his place at the front, facing Roose and the northern nobles.

"Noble lords of the North who remain loyal to House Stark, thank you for coming. This camp was only completed yesterday, and I didn't make it back in time to dine with you. I sincerely apologize."

Robb began with the usual formalities, speaking loudly. Then he changed tack and got straight to the point.

"I invited you here today for two reasons. First, to watch the military review. Second, to bear witness to the Warrior's Tomb."

Following Robb's gesture, the northern nobles immediately spotted the blue-stone building rising above the camp, shaped like a dagger.

"Everyone in the North knows that Winterfell holds the crypts of House Stark. All the Kings of the North and the heads of House Stark are buried there.

"Starting today, this Warrior's Tomb will honor every warrior who died fighting for Winterfell. Their names will all be inscribed on its surface."

At this, a few of the northern nobles shook their heads in private, while most began murmuring among themselves.

Count Wyman was among those who shook their heads. He thought the Young Wolf Lord's plan to build a tomb for fallen soldiers was a thankless undertaking.

Rather than spend so many Gold dragons, it would make more sense to give the families of the fallen more compensation.

The crypts of House Stark were there to mourn the family's ancestors and commemorate its past glory.

Apart from his Wolf Guard, most soldiers were commoners who lived at the very bottom of society. After their deaths, even their own families might soon forget them.

Robb paid no heed to the nobles' quiet chatter and continued, his voice ringing out. "The families of every soldier whose name is inscribed on the Warrior's Tomb will receive not only compensation for his death, but additional support as well.

"If his wife has no means of supporting herself, Winterfell will provide her with a regular job.

"If his parents are elderly and unable to work, Winterfell will give them a monthly allowance.

"If his children are too young and have no one to care for them, Winterfell will soon establish a Warriors' Orphanage to raise them until adulthood."

When Robb's astonishing words rang out, the northern nobles were still wondering how many Gold dragons this would cost.

But the Winterfell soldiers, who had been standing quietly at attention, suddenly erupted into chatter. Those in the back who couldn't hear clearly eagerly asked the soldiers in front what he had said.

"Lord Robb! Long live!"

"We're willing to die for House Stark!"

"Robb! Robb!"

"Stark! Stark!"

"Robb Stark!"

No one knew which of the more than two thousand soldiers had first cried out in excitement. But that shout was like a spark, instantly setting off a prairie fire.

All manner of excited shouts rang through the camp. At last, they merged into one unified cry: Robb's name.

Roose had been forced to his knees on the platform. At first, he kept his head bowed in silence, like a corpse.

But when Robb announced the additional benefits of the Warrior's Tomb, he suddenly looked up, meeting Robb's eyes.

Seeing Robb's confident expression, Roose sighed inwardly. His head drooped again, and he stared blankly at the platform beneath him.

From now on, Winterfell's soldiers would have no worries to hold them back and would fight bravely. The common folk of the North would flock to Winterfell to enlist.

Unless House Stark dug its own grave and broke its promise about the Warrior's Tomb, the Starks would rule the North for generations.

As Robb watched Roose bow his head, the northern nobles' expressions complicated, he turned his back to them and raised his right hand. He clenched his fist, fingers together, in the military signal to halt.

The soldiers in the front ranks saw Robb's signal and quickly passed the order down the line. In moments, the shouts that had just surged like waves fell silent, and even the air seemed still.

"The third item today is a trial brought by me, Robb Stark of House Stark, acting Lord of Winterfell, against Roose Bolton of House Bolton, Count of Dreadfort."

Once the Winterfell soldiers behind him had fallen silent, Robb pointed his clenched right fist down at Roose, who remained kneeling with his head bowed, and declared loudly:

"I will serve as the first judge. Count Rickard Karstark of Karhold will serve as the second judge, and Jon Umber, Earl of Last Hearth, will serve as the third."

Hearing that he was to be put on trial, the haggard-looking Roose raised his head and laughed loudly at Robb. "Hahaha! I know you've already decided I'm guilty.

"Once this trial is over, the esteemed Robb Stark will sentence me to either hanging or beheading.

"So I refuse to accept this unfair trial. As the Earl of House Bolton, I call upon the Old Gods to witness my demand: I challenge the acting Lord Robb Stark to a Trial by Combat!"

Thank you to Will of the Old King for the generous reward of 1,000 coins, and to Teutonic for the monthly vote. I'd also like to thank all the readers who vote and follow the story every day.

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