Lord Bolton, You Wouldn't Want... Would You?

When Corleone spoke that name, he showed neither reverence nor contempt, as though he were merely analyzing an object.

This did pique Roose Bolton's curiosity.

He sat upright, eager to hear what sort of assessment this farmer would offer of his liege lord.

"I must admit that he is young and brave, like a newly crowned direwolf on the battlefield. He has indeed won quite a few victories since marching south."

"But a true king needs more than valor on the battlefield."

Corleone's voice gradually deepened, becoming persuasive.

"Even if he wins every battle, I dare say that the northerners cannot possibly win this war!"

His certainty surprised everyone present.

After all, the northern army was advancing with tremendous momentum and, with House Tully's help, had occupied more than half the Riverlands.

Reportedly, Robb Stark had already begun planning to muster his army for an all-out assault on the Lannister stronghold of Casterly Rock.

"That is utter nonsense, farmer."

Brienne, who had sworn herself to Catelyn's service, gave a cold snort and openly contradicted him. "Since marching south, the King in the North has never suffered a defeat. Everyone knows it is only a matter of time before they defeat the Lannisters!"

Her tone was decidedly rude, but her blunt words had merit. At least, that was what most people believed so far, Jaime included.

"Calm down."

Seeing Brienne bristling with righteous indignation, Jaime quickly reached out and pressed a hand to her shoulder.

Sometimes, this woman's stubbornness reminded him of Cersei despite himself.

After all, knowing something was one thing; saying it to someone's face was another.

They could not forget that they were negotiating.

Reason told Jaime that Brienne's words and actions would destroy the opportunity Corleone had worked so hard to secure.

He could not help stealing a look at Roose Bolton's expression. To Jaime's surprise, however, the man raised no objection and did not even attempt a rebuttal.

"I do not say this without reason, everyone."

Everything still seemed to be going as Corleone had expected. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, as though he took no notice whatsoever of Brienne's impulsive behavior.

"I have three reasons."

He held up three fingers and continued his earnest analysis.

"First, for the sake of a woman, he unilaterally broke his marriage pact with House Frey. That was not merely a betrayal of his word; he personally threw away his most vital supply line and ally."

"Second, he is now far from his power base in the North, mired in the war in the south, while allowing the Riverlands, his nominal ally, to be ravaged by war, stretched to exhaustion, and unable to provide reliable support."

"His army is now like an arrow without roots. Sharp though it may be, no one knows where it will ultimately fly. It may very well end up snapping in his own hands."

"Third... and most importantly."

Corleone leaned forward slightly, his black eyes exposed to the candlelight. He looked fearlessly into Roose Bolton's eyes and said, enunciating every word, "Our King in the North does not seem quite as... just as his father."

Roose Bolton's eyelid twitched at those words.

These seemingly disrespectful remarks had struck him right where it mattered!

Although House Bolton had submitted to House Stark centuries ago, their ambitions had never ceased, until Eddard Stark inherited the lordship of Winterfell.

However stubborn or even foolish Roose considered this Warden of the North, there was not a single person in all the Seven Kingdoms who was not sincerely convinced of Eddard Stark's justice and character.

More than once, Roose had thought that living under such a lord's rule was not so bad.

At least they did not have to worry about being exploited by their liege lord, or even stabbed in the back.

So much so that Roose had once devoted himself to raising his eldest son in Eddard Stark's image, pouring his heart into the task. Unfortunately...

"You go a little too far, Master Corleone."

Even though he inwardly agreed with Corleone's words, he could not show it.

After a moment's silence, Roose's rarely expressive face still betrayed neither pleasure nor anger. He merely replied coolly, as though defending a principle that had nothing to do with him, "We fight for honor."

"Honor?"

At that, Corleone gave an undisguised sneer. He dropped all pretense and stated the facts outright.

"Earl Rickard Karstark."

"He contributed the most to the fighting before this. In the crucial battle in the Whispering Wood, two of his sons fought to the death out of loyalty, protecting their lord."

At this point, Corleone opened his hand and gestured gracefully toward Jaime Lannister, who had once again devoted his attention to the beef beside him.

Chewing a large mouthful, Jaime sensed the eyes on him and raised his head. Seeing Corleone's gesture, he immediately arched his brows in satisfaction.

Indeed, those two Karstark lads had fallen to his sword.

Although he had been captured in that battle, Jaime had never considered himself defeated. Leading his Kingsguard, he had fought spectacularly, killing more than a dozen of Robb Stark's guards in succession all by himself.

He had nearly emulated Barristan by taking the enemy commander's head amid a vast army, changing the course of the battle single-handedly.

Unfortunately, those few remaining steps had become an enduring regret.

He silently lamented it, then lowered his head again and continued tearing into the unfortunate piece of beef, as though venting his frustration at having fallen just short that day.

Corleone fixed his gaze on Roose Bolton again and demanded, "Then, Lord Bolton, please tell me: did House Karstark win honor?"

"No!"

He raised his voice slightly, filling it with a force that shook the heart.

"Earl Rickard, a father who had lost two outstanding sons, a vassal who had bled himself dry for House Stark, finally killed two Lannister prisoners to vent his anger."

"And his reward was to have his head cut off on the personal orders of our 'just' King in the North!"

As he spoke, Corleone stared hard at Roose and posed a question that struck at his very soul. "Lord Bolton, you wouldn't want to meet the same end as Rickard Karstark, would you?"

As his words faded, a long silence settled over the sitting room.

The fire flickered in the hearth, seeming to illuminate an exceedingly slight crack in Roose Bolton's expression.

Jaime stopped chewing, his tense mouth betraying his inner anxiety.

He watched Bolton intently. Even with his extraordinary trust in Corleone, he knew those words amounted to openly questioning, even belittling, the man's liege lord. This touched a great nobleman's most sensitive nerve.

How would Bolton react?

Beside him, Brienne's reaction was even more obvious.

When Corleone began dissecting Robb Stark's mistakes, disgust had started to show in her blue eyes.

To her, Lady Catelyn was a beacon of faith, and House Stark represented honor and justice. Yet Corleone's remarks were full of sacrilege and disrespect.

She clenched her fists, struggling to suppress the urge to contradict him.

What unsettled Brienne even more was the calculation of self-interest revealed in Corleone's words, so pure and utterly free of moral burden. Instinctively, she sensed that what he and Bolton were about to discuss might be very...

The tense atmosphere lingered for quite some time.

At length, Roose spoke. "This is none of your concern, Vito Corleone."

"Even if His Grace Robb Stark is partial in certain matters, House Bolton's loyalty remains absolutely unshakable."

First, he drew a clear boundary, emphasizing that this was an internal matter for the North.

At the same time, he stated his position, yet did not refute Corleone's assessment of the King in the North.

Corleone merely remained silent. Looking at Roose's seemingly steadfast and loyal face, he inwardly scoffed, Like hell I believe you.

He also had to marvel at how consummate the man's acting was. Even [Insight lv1] could detect no flaw.

Had he not read the original work, he probably would have been fooled too.

Sure enough, Roose did not pursue his insolence and leaned back slightly.

"And compared with so-called friendship, I am rather more interested in the common interests you mentioned, which would benefit us both."

"Of course, Lord Bolton. As I said earlier, clear interests sustain a lasting relationship better than hollow oaths. Likewise, I am very fond of discussing business with friends."

He deliberately emphasized the word "friends," lending it an air of unspoken mutual understanding.

Extending a finger, he lightly tapped the air. "All we need is for you to show leniency and provide a pass guaranteeing that Ser Jaime and I can return safely to King's Landing."

"Then."

Roose Bolton immediately picked up the thread, his question cutting straight to the heart of the matter. "What do I stand to gain?"

"What would you like to gain, Lord Bolton?"

Rather than answer directly, Corleone posed a veiled question of his own. "You are already the Earl of the Dreadfort, beneath one man and above all others..."

"Heh..."

Hearing Corleone put it that way, Roose immediately understood. The corners of his mouth moved almost imperceptibly.

"Bold words, Master Corleone."

"But why should I believe a stranger's empty promises?"

As Roose finished speaking, Brienne, who had been suppressing her anger, suddenly widened her eyes in disbelief.

Was he... agreeing?

But why?

What agreement had they reached?

I clearly hadn't heard anything!

"You do not need to believe my promises, Lord Bolton."

Under Brienne's bewildered gaze, Corleone also gave a smile of unspoken understanding. "We both know perfectly well that if I am making empty claims, Lord Tywin's blade will be waiting for me once I reach King's Landing."

"I would never gamble with my own life."

The reasoning was sound, laying bare the highest price a "swindler" might face, and instead lending his words a little more credibility.

"I can believe you, Master Corleone."

"But... I need a more tangible guarantee."

As he spoke, his gaze passed over Jaime and finally settled on the utterly bewildered Brienne of Tarth.

He raised a pale, slender finger and pointed at her, as though identifying an object.

"This woman must stay."