The Young Wolf's Spring

"Jon won! Jon won! This is wonderful—"

When Greatjon announced the result before anyone else, Bran was so happy he could have flown.

This was the first time he had been this happy since breaking his legs.

After choking the swordsman he had been competing against unconscious, Jon walked straight toward Ramsay.

Roose Bolton was starting to lose patience.

He was already over forty; it was hard to say whether he could still father another child.

Ramsay was his only heir, even his only family!

Only now did he finally realize where he had lost.

He had set a beast trap, yet what had come was not a Stark direwolf of the frozen plains, but a Targaryen dragon.

Not only had the trap failed to harm it, it had enraged it instead.

"Gre—"

Before Roose Bolton could say anything, Robb rose to his feet first and shouted angrily at Jon:

"Jon, stop!"

At his command, the guards around them rushed forward and blocked Jon's path.

"Jon! You said you came back to save Father. Is this how you mean to save him?" Robb then turned to the others and roared, "You are my father's bannermen. I summoned you here to fulfill your duties,

not to bring me gifts and bribe me, or spend all day plotting how to marry your daughters to me!"

Though Robb did not name anyone, the lords who had been implicated were ashamed.

This was precisely Jon's plan.

"My father was framed by a false king and petty villains. Now I, Robb Stark, son and heir to your liege lord, am interfering with my liege lord's decisions and attempting to meddle in my liege lord's wedding feast. Tell me, what crime is that?!"

As Robb roared, his wolf Grey Wind suddenly leaped out as well.

Those green wolf eyes fixed themselves on every person present.

Almost no one there had ever seen a wolf so enormous. It only needed to raise its head to bite an adult man's throat.

Robb then looked toward Jon and Ramsay.

Under Jon's intimidation, Ramsay could barely stand. If someone behind him had not supported him, he would likely have collapsed onto the ground.

"Ramsay, you know Jon is my brother. Even if he is only my father's bastard, he is still my family. You insulted your liege lord's family. What crime is that? Hm? Answer me!!"

Watching Robb shout and roar, Greatjon beside him practically had stars in his eyes.

The hulking earl muttered softly:

"Old and New Gods, now that is Eddard's blood!"

"Ramsay Snow, Jon Snow, I sentence each of you to one hundred military lashes. But the army will soon march, so the punishment will be carried over until after the war. Does anyone object?!"

Robb swept his gaze around, and the lords great and small of the North all fell silent.

Only at this moment did Robb truly begin to feel like the Duke of Winterfell.

Seeing that no one dared speak, Robb finally turned toward Roose Bolton with satisfaction.

"Lord Bolton."

"Lord... Lord Robb."

"You want to command the entire Northern army. That is impossible."

Roose Bolton nodded. After all, he had pushed his own son forward. In a sense, Robb had saved him.

"But I understand that you only did this because you wished to serve me better, so I will give you a force to command when the time comes."

Roose Bolton looked at Robb in disbelief, but soon understood what that meant.

Robb continued:

"At the same time, I will send Jon as your deputy. You will command the army, while he will handle logistics and intelligence to assist you. You are both working to save my father, so I hope you can mend your differences on the battlefield and cooperate properly."

Though he spoke of cooperation, he was really using Jon to keep Roose in check.

Logistical supplies were an army's lifeline—and its leash.

"Thank you, my lord." Roose Bolton spoke slowly, his voice carrying a trace of bitterness.

With Jon there, if he fought well, the credit might be taken from him.

If he fought poorly, he would definitely take the blame.

Robb nodded in satisfaction, then said:

"Also, I see you have kept Ramsay by your side. You intend to make him your heir, correct?"

Roose Bolton did not know how to answer.

Ramsay was his only son now, and since Robb had asked openly before everyone, it had to be so whether he liked it or not.

"How about this? Enlist him in my personal guard and have him accompany me to the battlefield."

"As you command, my lord."

With this double layer of insurance, the Earl of the Dreadfort could only obey.

In Robb's study, he sat with Jon, Theon, Bran, and Maester Luwin.

They were all very happy.

Everything had proceeded according to Jon's plan, producing a perfect result.

"Conquer the weak first, then conquer the strong. As for those neither weak nor strong, they will naturally fall under your control. Jon, where did you learn such words?" Maester Luwin asked curiously.

"Maester, I heard someone say it on the Wall. But that fellow trained monkeys to perform. He said that if you were training a group of monkeys at once, you should first catch a chicken and kill it in front of them,

then most of the monkeys would become obedient. Yet there would still be a few that jumped out, and then you only needed to focus on training the fiercest monkey. Once you tamed it, the entire group would obey." Naturally, Jon would not tell the truth.

"Oh, what an interesting method." Maester Luwin smiled and nodded, looking thoughtful.

"You mean those lords are monkeys?" Theon said with a laugh.

"More or less. Most of the time, people and monkeys are not all that different." Jon answered, then asked:

"Robb, now that the army has assembled, I think we should march as soon as possible. Have you figured out how to make old Walder let us pass?"

Robb lowered his head and looked at his wine cup.

"I have decided. Once the war is won, I will marry one of House Frey's daughters in exchange for House Frey joining our army."

Jon looked at him and saw that he seemed reluctant.

He knew Robb was not particularly willing.

For one thing, House Frey's daughters were all unattractive.

Robb was the sort who cared about looks.

Besides, House Frey had only risen six hundred years ago, while House Stark had existed for eight thousand. The former were nothing but upstarts.

But there was no helping it. With Robb's judgment, he understood that speed was paramount in war. Further delays would only mean losing the opportunity.

Jon also knew that Robb would grow more and more carried away with every victory. He was only sixteen, yet he commanded a great army that was invincible in battle and unstoppable in attack. Anyone would struggle to keep themselves in check.

And he had even become King in the North.

Jon himself might have become carried away too.

"Old Walder is very greedy. Add Arya or Rickon. Two marriage alliances should be enough to tempt the old man."

"Huh?" Robb had not expected that his younger brother or sister would also have to "sacrifice" for House Stark.

As the eldest brother, he felt this was his own "failure."

"What, do you want me to go instead? I do not mind, so long as what greets us then is House Frey's army rather than their arrows and rolling logs."

Seeing Jon mock himself, the others laughed, but only for a moment before their smiles vanished.

Everyone knew that Jon had sacrificed a great deal to establish Robb's authority.

Robb had already asked Maester Luwin to arrange an independent force of three to five hundred men for him.

After all, it was impossible to keep Roose Bolton in check with words alone.

Afterward, Jon offered several more suggestions.

For example, they had to make old Walder understand that sending troops to attack the Westerlands army was an excellent opportunity.

In short, they had to sell him a dream and make him realize that he was not merely fighting for Robb, but for himself as well.

Robb suddenly said, "Jon, when the war is over, do not return to the Wall. Stay by my side. I need you."