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"Heh, Robb Stark. Young, yet blessed with both intelligence and strength. My mistake was underestimating you far too much.
But that bastard who betrayed his own family and his own father... do you really think you can trust him?"
The skin on Roose Bolton's face did not move with his smile. Even so, he let out a faint laugh and spoke to Robb.
Without waiting for na answer, he shifted his gaze back over his left shoulder, toward Ramsay, who was holding him under control.
"There are so many houses in the North loyal to the Starks. You have no need for a weakened House Bolton that will never truly be loyal.
And besides, if he was capable of using several thousand infantrymen as bait, do you really think he would hesitate to sacrifice you when your turn came, my son?"
"Lord Roose, as a northern lord famous since my father's generation, such petty provocation truly does not suit your station.
Take him away. Keep him imprisoned under heavy guard. There must not be even the slightest carelessness."
Hearing those words meant to sow discord, Robb shook his head and answered in a disappointed tone before calling for the soldiers to take Roose away.
Watching him being escorted off by several Winterfell men, Robb turned to Ramsay and said,
"Do not take what he said to heart. Once I return to Winterfell, I will send formal letters to the northern nobles naming you, Ramsay Snow, as Lord of the Dreadfort."
"Thank you for this honor, my lord!"
At those words, Ramsay broke into a wide smile and bowed in thanks. But when he lowered his head, there was no joy at all in his eyes, only coldness.
Robb watched Ramsay's respectful bow. He was smiling as well, but a strange glint passed through his eyes.
"Ramsay, you bastard! Didn't you say you'd give us time to withdraw? Give me back the lives of my two brothers!"
Suddenly, Sam, his face and body wrapped in clean linen bandages with only his eyes exposed, rushed forward in a fury and tried to throw himself at Ramsay.
Robb turned and grabbed both of Sam's arms, saying softly, though without expression,
"Sam, take care of your wounds. I'll handle this."
"That isn't my fault. It's possible one of my father's scouts noticed something strange when you received the wildfire from the caravan and let everyone go.
If I hadn't fired that arrow and ignited the flames right then, forget taking the Dreadfort. By now, our heads would probably already be spiked on its walls.
If you're still standing here talking to me, you should be thanking me."
Ramsay straightened up and shook his head from side to side, speaking as if Sam truly owed him gratitude.
"You…"
Sam wanted to argue back, but no words came.
Ramsay was using the broader situation to force the issue.
Without him as the inside man, the Dreadfort truly would never have fallen so easily.
"That's enough, Sam. Trust me.
The deaths of those two are burned into my memory. I'll make sure their families are well compensated."
Robb looked straight at Sam with complete sincerity, and little by little, Sam's agitation began to settle.
After calming down, Sam nodded to Robb, shot Ramsay a savage glare, and then withdrew.
"Lord Robb, please, believe me. The situation was far too urgent. Otherwise, I would never have detonated the wildfire so early.
After all, you specifically instructed me to protect their lives."
Watching Sam's back as he limped away, Ramsay spoke with apparent sincerity to Robb, who still had his back turned to him.
"I believe you."
Still watching Sam limp off into the distance, Robb did not turn around. He merely nodded and answered.
But in his heart, he finished the sentence he did not speak aloud.
I believe that even if the situation had not been urgent, you still would have fired that arrow.
...
The work of clearing out the men and spoils of the Dreadfort took a great deal of time.
After they sent word to Stonehedge using the Dreadfort's raven, Theon arrived with a thousand infantrymen in a little over half a day.
It was easy to see that, during the two days he had been stationed at Stonehedge, Theon had been living very comfortably.
His face practically glowed. He was full of energy, as if love itself had been feeding him well.
The moment he saw Robb, he immediately began reporting the detailed situation there.
When their army arrived, they had encountered no resistance at all.
And, under Robb's explicit orders, Theon had kept his men under excellent control, not allowing any destructive looting of the town.
Of course, all of Stonehedge's mineral resources, wealth, and food reserves had been confiscated under his command.
Afterward, worried that the soldiers might get into trouble, he had the officers distribute the rewards for victory ahead of time.
And once the Winterfell soldiers received that generous reward, the first thing they did was rush to the nearest brothel.
Through drink and prostitutes, they vented all the tension and negative emotion that had built up on the battlefield.
Hm, over the past two days, the prostitutes had made a tidy fortune in silver stags... but they were walking with their legs spread and their hands braced against their hips.
Of the nearly two thousand Bolton prisoners, around fifteen hundred were split up and absorbed into the ranks.
The remaining five hundred were sent straight into the mines as laborers, promised their freedom after five years of work.
Though, given the current average lifespan of the miners at Stonehedge, it was unlikely many of them would still be alive five years from now.
Among the thousand infantrymen Theon had brought this time, at least three hundred were surrendered Bolton soldiers.
With the addition of these new men, the pace of the cleanup increased significantly.
Five days later, there were almost no corpses or remains visible outside the Dreadfort. The damaged section of the gate had been repaired and a new gate installed, though the black scorch marks on the walls could not be removed anytime soon.
...
"Ramsay, while Sam is staying at the Dreadfort to recover, I want you to use the time to teach him how to build na intelligence network and how to handle special channels.
In the future, he'll be responsible for that kind of dirty work in the shadows. You only need to remain in the light and be a good lord."
Beneath the Dreadfort's new gate, Robb, mounted on his horse, gave that instruction to Ramsay, who had come to see them off.
"As you wish, Lord Robb."
At those words, Ramsay slightly lifted one corner of his mouth and answered.
"Sam, take care of your wounds. And learn properly."
Robb nodded and then spoke to Sam at the side. After that, he raised his voice and ordered,
"Move out! Back to Winterfell!"
Awoo!
Knowing that he would finally be returning home, Bloodwind raised his head and let out a long howl.
The great column began to leave the Dreadfort.
The cavalry went out first.
After them came the many prisoners being escorted outside.
Behind them followed the long lines of wagons loaded with spoils, protected by the infantry.
The massive procession took more than half na hour to fully clear the castle.
Watching the resources his house had accumulated over so many years disappear farther and farther into the distance, and knowing that only the bare minimum needed to keep the castle functioning remained inside, the smile slowly faded from Ramsay's face as he began thinking about how he would govern his lands from now on
"Lord Ramsay, you'll have to oversee the rebuilding of the castle and still teach a fool like me. That's going to be a lot of work."
Sam, who still had not removed the linen wrappings from his face, saw Ramsay's thoughtful expression and spoke in a light tone laced with hidden mockery.
"Sam, don't joke with me. I'll still need your help a great deal in the future.
After all, those five hundred soldiers left in the Dreadfort are all Winterfell men. They only obey you."
Hearing that, Ramsay did not get angry. On the contrary, he asked for his help.
"They're guards of the Dreadfort now. They only obey your orders."
"Heh, you're right."
"Haha!"
The two of them laughed together, but there was no real warmth in either man's eyes.
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