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The many ravens Winterfell had sent out soon reached the rookeries of the great houses of the North, carrying out their mission of delivering their letters.
In White Harbor, at the seat of House Manderly, in the study of the New Castle.
Lord Wyman stared at the letter in his hands in such shock that his large mouth, beneath his double chin, hung open for a long moment.
"Maester Theomore, is this letter really true? Lord Robb not only destroyed the greater part of House Bolton's army, he even took the Dreadfort, which had never fallen?"
At his lord's question, Maester Theomore gave a bitter smile and replied,
"Lord Wyman, when I first read the letter, I had exactly the same reaction as you.
But for some time now, rumors have been coming in from every direction. Some say Bolton deserters were being hunted down by Stark cavalry. Others say Stone Hedge has been occupied by House Stark. And there are even those who speak of flames rising from the Dreadfort."
The old maester paused briefly to catch his breath, then continued,
"With all these rumors, and now this letter bearing House Stark's seal, I believe it's true."
"Incredible. This Lord Robb is incredible! The son of a fierce wolf could never be a tame dog."
Lord Wyman was visibly excited. As he spoke, his hands wouldn't stay still. As if suddenly remembering something, he turned to the maester and asked,
"Isn't that shipment of Myrish ointment due to arrive soon?"
"It is. By the timing, it should reach White Harbor sometime today or tomorrow."
"Very good. Wasn't White Harbor one of the victims of the raids? Excellent. I'll personally take that shipment of ointment to Winterfell."
"I'll see to the preparations for your journey at once, my lord."
"Mm. While I'm away, leave White Harbor in Wylis's care. And make sure you advise him properly."
"As you command."
Since communication in the North was difficult, news traveled poorly, and almost everything depended on ravens.
Because of that, when the noble houses received the ravens sent out from Winterfell, most of them simply did not believe the contents of the letters.
Even so, since they bore the Stark lord's seal, most houses, doubtful though they were, still chose to verify things for themselves. Some set out in person, others sent representatives, but all of them began making their way toward Winterfell.
...
In the Westerlands, at Casterly Rock.
That castle was a vast and magnificent fortress carved from the rock, standing on the western coast of Westeros, overlooking prosperous Lannisport and the boundless Sunset Sea.
It was a stronghold hewn from a colossal rock, and the walls and structures raised upon it only made its defenses even more formidable.
Of course, it was precisely that all-stone construction that made the disposal of waste a rather troublesome matter.
But thanks to a redesign by the ingenious Tyrion, a rational drainage system that carried the waste directly into the sea had spared the Lannisters that headache in recent years.
Like the Dreadfort in the North, Casterly Rock had never once been taken by force in all of history.
At that moment, in the stone garden of the fortress, Tywin Lannister, Warden of the West, maintained his usual elegance as he rested back in his chair, savoring a golden Arbor wine while gazing at the beautiful sunset in the distance.
Dressed in golden robes embroidered with the roaring lion of House Lannister, Kevan Lannister, already past fifty, walked quickly toward him carrying a letter brought by raven.
"What bad news is it this time?"
Knowing his own brother very well, Tywin saw the look on Kevan's face and went straight to the question.
"We've received updates from our informants. The northern pup has taken the Dreadfort, brought Roose Bolton back to Winterfell as a prisoner, and intends to support his bastard, Ramsay Snow, as the new Lord of the Dreadfort."
Having served as his brother's right hand for so many years, Kevan knew very well what mattered most. So he went straight to the heart of it and delivered the heaviest news first.
"What? And it's been so little time! Roose Bolton was defeated just like that? Captured by a boy who hasn't even fully matured yet?"
At those words, Tywin, who until then had been reclining at ease, straightened sharply in his chair. The movement was so sudden that some of the expensive wine in his cup spilled.
"Yes. We all underestimated that wolf pup. According to the letter, Roose was completely read by him. Every step he took had already been anticipated."
"Damn it. This is bad. From now on, the North will become as impenetrable as iron. It will be much harder to get our hands in there."
"The men of the North rarely come south. Why are you so concerned about that?"
Hearing his brother's sigh, Kevan asked, not understanding.
"The Starks are staunch supporters of the Baratheons. If, in the future..."
Tywin set down his cup and looked at the sun slowly sinking over the sea as he spoke in a low voice.
"If, in the future, what?"
"Nothing. When the time comes, you'll know."
"Mm."
Kevan had always idolized his brother. When Tywin did not want to say something, he never pressed.
Then, remembering a question that had occurred to him while reading the letter, he changed the subject.
"Hadn't our agents in the North already been eliminated by them? Then where did such detailed information come from?"
"Cersei and Jaime once traveled to Winterfell with the king. That informant was planted there by them and has proven quite useful. He's sent a great deal of information out of Winterfell in secret."
As Tywin spoke of his children, a faint smile appeared on his face. It was clear he was very pleased with their move.
"Worthy children of House Lannister.
Ah, yes, at the end of the message the informant said Robb Stark tried to recruit Tyrion in Winterfell. He refused, but handed him the design for a special saddle for the crippled boy."
Kevan offered a brief word of praise, then continued his report.
"Tried to recruit him? The boy wants to drive a wedge into House Lannister?
Tyrion would never agree. Though I have never regarded him as a son, I am obliged to admit that he inherited his brains from me."
"What should we do now?"
"Send more letters to the northern lords and see how the ground is shifting. Lord Wyman of White Harbor is a clever man when it comes to trade. Perhaps we can speak business with him.
And send a letter to Cersei. Tell her to teach Joffrey better and make him bring the Stark girl under control as soon as possible."
...
In King's Landing, the meeting of the Small Council had just ended, and its members were rising, bowing to Eddard, and leaving one by one.
When Eddard himself also stood to leave, Grand Maester Pycelle, the last man still in the room, called out to him.
"L-Lord Eddard... I nearly forgot. There is a letter from Winterfell for you."
The old grand maester spoke slowly, stumbling over his words, then drew the letter from inside his robes with trembling hands.
"Thank you, Maester Pycelle."
Eddard thanked him, took the letter, and opened it. But as he read, his brow furrowed more and more deeply.
"Lord Eddard, your son is truly brave and gifted in war. My congratulations."
Pycelle, who had clearly already read the letter before this, spoke in a flattering tone.
Hearing that, Eddard folded the letter, turned his gaze northward, and said, shaking his head,
"Among a pack, the wolf that strikes first is always the bravest... but also the one most likely to die."
...
At Castle Black, Samwell Tarly, with his large belly and his naturally comical way of walking, was making his way across the castle with a smile on his face.
When he spotted Jon, who was scrubbing the floor with his usual cold expression, he immediately called out,
"Jon, a raven came with word that your brother led the army, took the Dreadfort, and captured Roose Bolton."
"Robb won the battle? What else did the letter say?"
Hearing that, Jon immediately broke into a smile and asked, clearly delighted.
"Nothing much. It only said that vigilance at Castle Black should be tightened, because a great army of wildlings is gathering beyond the Wall."
After answering, Sam asked in his awkward way,
"I've heard they call him the Young Wolf. Tell me more. What is he like?"
At the question, Jon remembered what Robb had been like on the day he left Winterfell. Then he answered,
"The truth is, I don't even know what kind of man he has become now.
But to me, he was always a good brother. A brother who would protect his family... and protect his home."
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