Heading South

Late the next night, after arranging Winterfell's affairs, Robb quietly left through its south gate with Winterfell's cavalry, disguised as an ordinary merchant caravan.

The disguised caravan was a small one, with just three wagons. Robb was accompanied by Eddard, the brothers Toren and Owen, and sixteen carefully selected cavalrymen.

They were all dressed in worn commoners' clothes, with disguises like beards and scars on their faces. At a glance, they looked convincing enough.

After Winterfell announced the benefits offered by Warrior's Tomb, the commoners nearby had begun flocking to enlist. Theon and Owen were currently in charge of recruiting,

and after screening applicants for age and physique, they expected to enlist two or three thousand new soldiers.

Daisy was responsible for guarding the relatives in the Main Keep. Little Jon, both because his size made him stand out and because he and Trog were in charge of overseeing the camp's daily training and the upcoming recruits' training,

couldn't come along either.

The Wolf Guard, whom Robb used like cogs, were all middle-ranking officers in the army, so there was no way to spare them, either.

Besides, this trip wasn't to attack King's Landing. It was to use a few plans to rescue Eddard, Sansa, and Arya.

Robb had brought these people along partly to maintain the disguise, and partly in case they needed extra hands.

In fact, Robb's overall strength had now reached the very edge of Westeros's top tier.

When small amounts of red mist had entered him before, the negative effects had been minor, but the benefits had been just as small.

But after he lost control during the Battle of the Dreadfort, Robb had gained a deeper understanding of the red mist.

The most serious negative effect was that it could rob him of reason and control, filling him with a desire to slaughter.

On the positive side, it could provide him with a steady supply of stamina, speed the clotting and healing of wounds, and, finally, subtly improve his physical attributes.

Robb had actually noticed a long time ago that his physique was getting better and better, and that he was growing stronger.

He had always thought it was the result of his grueling daily training, but after losing control last time, he could clearly feel that his physical attributes had improved significantly.

For one thing, Little Jon could no longer match his strength.

They had tested it in the camp a few days ago. Little Jon's expression had been priceless, since his strength was what he was proudest of.

As for Blood Wind's current attributes, they were quite balanced.

[Name: Blood Wind, Contract Holder: Robb Stark]

[Physique: 30, Speed: 30, Strength: 30]

[Species: Warg Direwolf (6)]

[Pack: Soldier Wolf: Nymeria, Servant Wolf: Lady.]

[Blood Contract Points: 32]

Once all its attributes reached 30, they couldn't be increased any further. Robb didn't know whether that was its growth limit, or if there were other conditions he hadn't met.

This Cheat was something he had to figure out entirely by himself. Even the most basic instruction manual would have saved him a lot of frustration.

The Blood Contract Points he had accumulated were a hidden danger, too. As long as he kept fighting and killing, they would continue to pile up, and he would inevitably lose control.

When he could no longer spend them to increase his attributes, would he lose control for a set period? Or would he lose control permanently, turning into a madman who only knew how to kill?

Robb had no idea what would happen if he lost control again, so he had been eating much less lately, afraid of accumulating more Blood Contract Points.

By the way, killing Roose Bolton yesterday had earned him eight Blood Contract Points.

Apart from Dick, the leader of the deserters he had killed before, this was only the second time he had gained more than the usual two points.

Fortunately, he had had more than seventy Blood Contract Points when he lost control during the Battle of the Dreadfort, so he still had some leeway now.

Speaking of Blood Wind, it would probably have to put up with some discomfort on this journey. Its size was too conspicuous, so it was now shut inside the specially made wagon at the very back.

Robb could have left Blood Wind behind, ridden south at speed, and headed for King's Landing.

But leaving his trump card, his secret weapon, far away while he went off on a dangerous adventure alone was the sort of thing only a protagonist in a movie from his previous life would do!

The wagons slowed them down a little, but apart from the time they needed to rest, Robb and the others were on the road almost constantly.

In just over half a month, they had reached the border between the Crownlands and the Riverlands, at Pig's Horn.

Pig's Horn was a tower keep with a strange name and walls eight feet thick. It was the fief of House Hogg, bannerman to House Harford.

They couldn't enter the tower keep, of course, but a settlement like the one at Winter Market had sprung up outside it, built by the nearby commoners themselves.

It wasn't very large, but it had everything they needed for daily life. Overall, the place seemed to have a touch of bustling prosperity.

After all, its location was excellent. It was less than a day's ride from King's Landing, and it was the first rest stop on the King's Road.

After such a long journey, everyone from Winterfell except Robb looked exhausted and listless.

So he decided they would rest properly for the night and set out for King's Landing the next day.

Robb and the others stayed at a shabby, ordinary inn here. Prices in the south really were much higher than in the North.

Lodging and meals for their entire party, including concentrated feed for the horses, cost a total of 110 Silver stags.

That was after Eddard had haggled for a discount. At first, when the innkeeper heard their northern accents, he had stubbornly demanded a Gold dragon.

Robb and the others reached the inn close to sunset.

After arranging for the wagons to be parked, he climbed into the last one himself to soothe Blood Wind, who had been sending him impatient feelings. Then he took everyone to the inn's dining hall for dinner.

The inn looked shabby and ordinary, but business was certainly good. By the time Robb and the others entered the spacious dining hall, guests were eating and chatting at two-thirds of the tables.

After Robb and the others sat down and waited a little while, the innkeeper brought them the set dinner included with their lodging.

A plain but substantial piece of bread, a large bowl of thick barley-and-venison soup, some green spinach, and a large mug of poor-quality ale.

Compared with the delicious food Robb had made back in Winterfell, this meal made him frown.

It wasn't that they couldn't afford a better place or better food. But if they were pretending to be a small merchant caravan, their food, clothing, lodging, and transportation all had to fit the disguise.

So when Eddard haggled with the innkeeper, Robb hadn't tried to stop him.

Back on Blue Star in his previous life, Robb had been the kind of man who could walk into a store, buy clothes or shoes, pay, and leave in under ten minutes.

Clang!

Just as Robb and the others had nearly finished their unremarkable meal, the inn's front door was suddenly flung open.

A man stumbled into the dining hall, shouting excitedly, "Breaking news! Our king hired a few whores at the Red Keep today, and ended up dying between their legs!"

Thump!

When Robb heard the man's news, his expression suddenly changed. He slammed a fist down on the table, sending the ale and leftover food flying in every direction.

Impossible!!!