Spoils of War and Ramsay Snow

Robb nodded and instructed him, "Theon, take the men and cut off the heads of these sixteen enemies. Bind them to the horses along with the bodies of our three fallen soldiers. We'll bring them back to Winterfell."

"Alright, I'll see to it at once!"

Theon agreed and immediately turned to call the men to work.

"Wait, Theon."

Hearing Robb's call, Theon turned back with a puzzled look.

"Thank you."

Robb said softly with a smile.

Theon's lips curled up at that. He waved a hand casually in acknowledgment, then turned and went about his business.

Robb watched Theon's retreating back, his mind already calculating how to win him over completely in the future.

Theon wasn't a bad person at heart. He had some military ability and could lead small-scale operations.

Moreover, his combat prowess ranked in the upper-middle tier across Westeros, and his archery was especially outstanding.

Over the years, growing up alongside Robb and the others, receiving the same education from Eddard, a certain familial bond had already formed between them.

And Theon had always been close to Robb, treating him like a true brother.

In the original story, before Theon was swayed by his father Balon and sister Arya to attack Winterfell, he had considered writing a letter to warn Robb.

But Theon's nature was indecisive, his will not firm enough. So he was easily influenced, becoming a reed swaying in the wind.

If Robb could truly win him over now, making him loyal to the death, he would definitely become a capable lieutenant in the future.

"Jon, go check the packs on those horses over there."

Knowing the traits of those around him, Robb assigned Jon the task of sorting the spoils of war.

Jon nodded expressionlessly and walked silently toward the group of horses that Dick and the others had tied to a small tree in the mountain hollow.

"You did well, Robb. Leading a group for the first time and making the right tactical decisions, achieving victory with minimal losses."

Captain Jory, wearing chainmail stained with blood, had just walked up to Robb when he offered his praise.

This long-distance pursuit had been entirely commanded by Robb alone. In the early part of the night, the scout cavalry Robb had sent ahead discovered Dick and his men camping and resting based on the tracks.

However, at that time, Robb and his men were exhausted, both men and horses. So he didn't attack rashly. Instead, they ate, drank, and rested until dawn before launching the assault.

Of course, these elite cavalrymen from Winterfell regularly ate fruits, meat, and animal organs. So none of them suffered from the night blindness common among commoners of this era.

The greater endurance of northern warhorses compared to their southern counterparts was also a significant factor.

"You flatter me, Captain Jory. Even if the three of us weren't here, you could have easily wiped out this group of enemies leading the men."

Facing this captain of the guards who had followed Eddard for nearly twenty years, Robb maintained a respectful and humble attitude.

"Haha, back when your parents got married, I said while crashing the bridal chamber, 'The son you two will have will be something extraordinary.'"

"Heh."

Listening to Jory reminisce about the past, Robb put on a polite smile to humor him while his mind recalled the scene of gaining Blood Contract Points.

When Robb killed Dick, in his field of vision, a thumb-thick wisp of red mist rose from Dick's body and instantly merged into his own.

At that moment, he felt an endless surge of power welling up inside him.

[Blood Contract Points +5]

In truth, this battle had earned Robb a total of 7 Blood Contract Points.

But when he broke through the defensive formation and killed the first soldier, the battle was fierce, and Robb had no time to check the fleeting notification that flashed before his eyes.

His total Blood Contract Points now stood at 7.

During yesterday's pursuit, the portable rations he ate didn't grant him the daily 1 Blood Contract Point.

He speculated it was because the portable rations were too simple and lacked sufficient nutrition.

Before long, Theon and Jon finished their tasks one after another and returned to report to Robb.

Jon deduced that Dick and his men had definitely raided more than just Eastwatch Village. His inventory revealed a total of 27 Gold Dragons, over a thousand Silver Stags, and a large pouch of Copper Coins.

There were also 17 fine northern warhorses, and two large bags of precious herbs and wild goods.

Such a large fortune couldn't have come from just one village.

After about ten minutes of rest, Robb gave the order, and the Winterfell cavalry expertly managed multiple horses per man, controlling the mounts and spoils as they began the return journey.

The trip back wasn't a forced march. First, the horses were already quite tired. Second, the extra horses and spoils slowed them down.

After about half a day, Robb and his group arrived at the confluence of the White Blade River and the Linwen River.

"Theon, have everyone eat and rest, and also wipe the blood off themselves."

Seeing that the area was open with a good view and had a water source, Robb, riding at the front, instructed Theon beside him.

Theon nodded, turned his horse, and rode back along the cavalry column, shouting for everyone to dismount and rest.

"Jon, take one man and scout ahead. I'll send someone to relieve you later."

Receiving Robb's order, Jon nodded, tilted his head toward a familiar cavalryman in the column, and the two rode forward to reconnoiter.

This time leading troops independently, the military tactics his father Eddard had always spoken of gradually turned into practical application in Robb's mind.

Robb did not let the cavalry all dismount at once to rest and clean themselves. Instead, he had them rotate in shifts, guarding against a possible cavalry ambush.

Clatter-clatter-clatter!

After Robb and the others had simply wiped the dried blood from their bodies and eaten some dry rations, Jon and the other man quickly rode back.

"Robb, there's a cavalry unit ahead, flying the Flayed Men banner of House Bolton."

As soon as he approached, Jon reported the situation directly.

"House Bolton... Did they make any move to attack you?"

Robb heard this, stroked the stubble on his chin, thought for a moment, and then asked.

"No, they were riding very slowly, felt just like when we usually go out for an outing."

"Good, I understand. Jon, you two rest. The rest of you, organize the ranks and prepare for battle at any moment."

After Robb gave the order, the cavalry began quickly adjusting their chainmail, then mounted their horses and readied for combat.

Before long, the figures of the cavalry unit appeared in Robb's field of vision. After riding to a certain distance, their formation halted.

One of the cavalrymen, holding the Flayed Men banner, approached Robb's cavalry unit.

After some exchange, Robb learned that they were a unit led by Ramsay Snow, the bastard of Roose Bolton, tasked with pursuing deserting soldiers who had looted two villages.

Upon learning Robb's identity, the cavalryman saluted respectfully, then rode back to report.

A few minutes later, with a bright smile on his face, black-haired, black-eyed Ramsay arrived before Robb with two attendants and two leashed hounds.

"Honorable Lord Stark, Ramsay Snow of House Bolton offers you my sincere greetings."

"Ramsay, I believe the deserting soldiers you were pursuing are these, aren't they?"

Facing a character he deeply loathed, Robb instead smiled and pointed at the heads on the horses behind him.

"Yes, they are. To die at the hands of Lord Stark, they are truly fortunate!"

"Fortunate?"

"Yes, I truly wish they had been unlucky enough to fall into my hands."

"They slaughtered a village in our territory. I need to take these heads back to my father to report.

Take your men and return to your House Bolton!"

After a brief exchange, looking at Ramsay's smiling face with dangerous light flickering in his eyes, Robb frowned, unwilling to continue the entanglement, and spoke.

"Yes, yes! I shall obey your command. Please convey my greetings to Lord Eddard."

Hearing this, Ramsay's smile paused slightly.

Then, nodding and bowing, he replied, turned, and returned with his attendants and hounds.

"Lord Ramsay, do you really need to be so deferential to this 'Young Lord Stark'? After all, our House Bolton is sworn to his father."

After Ramsay and the others turned and left, a short, stout, ugly attendant beside him spoke.

"Aelin, we are a pack of hounds. We must show our most loyal appearance before our master.

The Duke of the North's legitimate eldest son... tsk tsk, what an enviable status."

A sinister smile curled at the corner of Ramsay's mouth, his eyes shifting, and he spoke in a chilling tone.

"Alright, that bastard Dick was lucky enough to die. I'm very displeased. Now, let's find a place to find some amusement and blow off steam."