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Seven hells!
That was the only thought running through the cavalry's minds.
Those long, four-edged pikes were every rider's nightmare. Even in good order, breaking a formation like that meant throwing away lives. And now, with their ranks already shattered, they had no chance at all.
"Loose!"
The arrows came down like a black storm.
For many of the riders, it was the last thing they ever saw.
…
Jimmy kept moving forward.
"You," he called to Robb, "take the cavalry and drive Ramsay back this way. Leave these spearmen to me. Don't come too close. I'd rather not kill you by accident."
The moment he finished speaking, he charged straight at Hother Umber's formation.
"Kill him!"
But the ones who looked afraid were the men facing him.
You could tell exactly how terrifying Jimmy was in battle just by the way Robb swallowed.
Hother Umber?
Please.
Even Azog's warg riders hadn't been able to stop Jimmy once he started his charge.
Spears. Arrows.
To Jimmy, they were little more than things to cut through.
There was no point trying to block him. They couldn't. At best, in the final moment before death, a man could hurl his weapon at him and die with a shred of dignity.
As for defeating him?
That was fantasy.
From the moment he entered the field until now, the blue-armored monster hadn't even slowed down.
If anything, he was getting faster.
"I am Hother Umber, castellan of Last Hearth," Hother shouted, drawing his sword. "Knight, give me your name."
"Shut up."
Jimmy flashed past like a blade of wind.
Hother Umber was cut apart diagonally in a single strike.
Jimmy spat to the side.
"You think you're worthy of asking my name?"
…
Ramsay, one arm severed, stumbled forward while Ser Aenys Frey shoved him along. Behind them trailed Theon, still wearing fine armor, though Reek would have suited him better.
At the rear rode one of House Karstark's cavalry captains.
Robb had shown restraint. He hadn't driven the fleeing enemy into total annihilation. Hother Umber had simply been unlucky enough to meet Jimmy head-on.
Anyone else might have lived.
…
Tormund strode over, grinning wildly, his face splashed with blood and a huge axe in his hand.
"Ha! Jimmy, I never expected your reinforcements to be this fierce. I admit it. I'm impressed."
"Really?" Jimmy glanced at him. "Tormund, didn't you have some grand nickname? Something-slayer, wasn't it?"
He turned toward one of the giants.
"Oh, right. Let me introduce you. This is Wangwang, deputy captain of the Giant Guard."
Then he looked back at Tormund with a smirk.
"And this is Tormund. I hear he has a very impressive title."
"Is that so?" Wangwang asked.
"It is," Jimmy said.
Tormund then watched in rising panic as the giant removed his helmet and stared down at him.
"What is your title?"
Tormund froze.
"Mine? Ah… yes. Mine is Rabbit-Slayer."
Wangwang nodded seriously.
"I see. Rabbits are difficult to kill."
Tormund wiped cold sweat from his brow.
Say "Giantsbane" now?
Not unless he was tired of living.
Still, one question kept clawing at his mind.
Where in the world had these giants come from?
And since when did giants wear armor and carry shields like fortress gates?
Before long, the prisoners were dragged before the leaders.
Ramsay immediately began begging for mercy.
"Jon, you can't kill me. I'm the last Bolton left at the Dreadfort. I'll swear fealty to you for generations. I'll serve you—"
"Why waste words on him?" Jimmy snapped. "Anyone else can be spared. Not him."
And with that, he stepped forward, clearly ready to kill Ramsay on the spot.
"Wait."
Jimmy and Robb spoke at the same time.
"We can use him to take the Dreadfort and Winterfell," Jon said quickly. "It would spare us unnecessary losses."
With a sharp motion, Jimmy sheathed his blade.
"No need. I'll take Winterfell for you. I'll take the Dreadfort too."
He looked at Ramsay with open contempt.
"If ever there was a man who deserved to die, it's him. He murdered Roose Bolton with his own hands."
"He's the last Bolton left because he killed everyone else."
"And you want to trust a man like that to honor knightly vows?"
He gave a cold laugh.
"You'd have better odds trusting old Walder Frey to remember basic noble decency."
That left Theon and the Karstark heir, Dyarik, Arnolf Karstark's eldest son.
As for Theon, there wasn't much to say. These days, "Reek" suited him better.
A moment earlier, he had switched armor with Ramsay so Ramsay could try to escape.
But for all Ramsay's scheming, he had overlooked one crucial detail.
The man sent after him was Robb.
No matter how broken or changed Theon looked, Robb recognized him instantly.
That led straight to Ramsay, and when Ramsay resisted, Robb casually took his arm.
Robb, too, had considered using Ramsay to reduce casualties in the assaults on the Dreadfort and Winterfell.
But looking at Jimmy now, it was clear what he intended.
This was a show of strength.
And honestly, he had the power to back it up.
Two hundred giant warriors.
Thousands of elk riders.
Thousands more Free Folk soldiers.
That alone was enough to sweep through the North.
Then there was Horus.
And Jimmy himself, whose battlefield strength bordered on the unreal.
"Theon Greyjoy doesn't need to die," Jimmy said at last. "Lock him up. When you find Yara, hand him back to her."
He snorted.
"He deserves everything he's gotten."
Then he glanced at Dyarik.
"And this one? I don't know. Decide it yourselves. I'm going to gather the troops and start setting up camp."
He slung the greatblade over his shoulder and walked off.
…
A moment later, Robb removed his helmet.
"Jon. It's been too long."
"Robb?" Jon froze, staring at him. "By the gods… you're alive? Thank the old gods. Thank the new gods."
Relief flooded his face all at once.
"Sansa will be overjoyed when she sees you. But how did you escape the Twins? How did you end up with Jimmy? And who are all these people?"
Jon had too many questions to count.
The pressure he had been carrying alone for so long had finally eased.
"Easy," Robb said with a faint smile. "Father and Mother are alive too. Jimmy saved all of us."
"And Rickon as well. They're at Sea Dragon Point for now. Once we take Winterfell, we'll all be together again."
He looked toward the north.
"That day isn't far off."
In the end, Ned had not come.
He believed he should remain at Sea Dragon Point and keep watch over the younger ones.
Nearby, Daisy was talking with Lyanna Mormont.
Or rather, Lyanna was clinging to Daisy and crying her eyes out.
The strain of the past weeks had weighed heavily on her, and now that her sister was back, she could finally let it out.
Ygritte soon found Jon as well.
She wore fitted leather armor now, with two short swords at her waist and empty quivers hanging at her side. She looked nothing like the ragged wildling girl she had been just a few months ago, wrapped in worn animal hides and living rough.
While the battlefield was being cleared, everyone finally learned who these warriors really were.
They were the people taken from the Frozen Shore.
And they spoke openly.
They now served under Jimmy, King of the Free Folk.
He had granted them the Wolfswood as their land.
Since coming under his rule, they had not gone hungry. They had not frozen. They wore armor now.
And they even had iron cooking pots.
Tormund's people fell silent.
Back then, why had they insisted on following Mance south to attack the Wall?
If they had gone with these people from the Frozen Shore instead, maybe many more would still be alive.
But regret came too late.
There was no use dwelling on it now.
Better to search the battlefield for anything still worth taking.
Robb's arrival had clearly transformed the mood of the northern lords.
The Young Wolf had once driven the old lion into a panic across the Riverlands.
If Walder Frey had not resorted to treachery at the Twins, how could the Young Wolf ever have fallen?
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