Chapter 137

"Bran and Rickon have been murdered." Their bodies were placed in the crypts of Winterfell; she found the remaining Rickon inside the direwolf's fur, he left only madness and fear, his brother Bran likely the same inside Summer's body. But she did not see Summer.

"Will you avenge them?" George was extremely despondent, almost on the verge of tears.

"Of course." She did not know how George Kayso was related to the two brothers. "Rest well for two days; I will soon need you by my side."

She left the crowd and walked toward the hall.

The knights dismounted sparsely, leading their warhorses one by one into the stables.

"Steward Fen, arrange for them to go to their own rooms, then guide them to the bathrooms; I hope you have prepared enough towels." Mei Yi felt she was being a bit talkative; she didn't need to arrange such things at all.

"Of course, Your Highness. I believe every returning warrior can use hot towels. Compared to arranging rooms, bathrooms, and towels, I personally think it would be better to also open the city gates tonight." Steward Fen gave a playful smile.

Mei Yi regretted speaking with him. Opening the city gates—is it necessary?

"Why?"

"I suppose most of the knights who reaped abundantly in the south don't want to stay inside Winterfell, even if the rooms are warm and comfortable." Steward Fen gave a playful smile. "They surely want to find their own amusement at the Winter Market."

Mei Yi frowned, then nodded silently.

"It seems the toast also needs to be changed." Since these wealthy cavalrymen have something else they look forward to, no matter what she says she cannot achieve the goal. Saying more would only annoy them. "The curfew will be delayed until the wolf hour."

"Yes, Your Highness." The beer belly behind her replied.

Mei Yi turned and left; the senior officials of Winterfell followed.

From then on, Winterfell had not a moment of peace.

The little dog barked loudly; two or three soldiers began to spar on the tidy drill field, surrounded by a crowd of warriors cheering for their respective supporters, sometimes shouting, sometimes cheering or cursing.

Other open spaces also began to build bonfires, just as they had before leaving Winterfell.

To prepare food for nearly six or seven hundred people, Steward Fen had already hired many cooks and helpers from nearby; fortunately Winterfell's kitchen is not small, with ample space. They had once accommodated more people in the castle; this small scene is nothing.

When Mei Yi came out of the hall again and passed the bridge, Ptolemy was receiving the crowd's cheers, holding his sword high and extending a fervent invitation to the surrounding soldiers.

Among her overseas soldiers, Ptolemy's swordsmanship was not bad; he ranked among the best.

A soldier put his arm around a sack, circled Ptolemy, holding the sack's opening toward the onlookers, as if demanding the chips just won in victory.

Mei Yi had forbidden them to gamble while in the south, but now that they had returned to Winterfell, it was hard to say whether they still belonged to her enlisted soldiers.

She prepared to leave, pretending she had not seen it.

Ptolemy, as if fired up, took off his innermost layer of clothing and shoved it into a nearby soldier's arms, baring his back in the cold winter and shouting at the onlookers.

His wooden sword thrust at each of the laughing onlookers, as if mocking them for not daring to step up.

A soldier in black mail was shoved forward by the laughing troops into the field; feeling helpless, he raised his hand, drew a convenient wooden sword from the rack, set aside the long face beside him, and repeatedly tested the weight of the wooden sword.

"Come on, northerner!" Ptolemy shouted, "Let me see how brave the northern men are!"

Half the soldiers booed, the other half shouted loudly.

This dangerous shout and provocation made Mei Yi stop in her tracks.

The soldier wore black mail, with no intention of taking it off; he carefully held his wooden sword, circling Ptolemy, constantly feinting, appearing agile and swift.

Mei Yi found it quite interesting; he might not be weaker than Ptolemy.

"Coward!" Ptolemy yelled, "Do you think we're playing a game? Idiot!"

"Oh, I won't play any games!" He feinted forward; Ptolemy immediately swung his sword to block, then launched an attack.

"You're fast!" the soldier said, "But you're not my match, swordsman!"

Mei Yi noticed this person was slender, with scruffy stubble, black hair and black eyes.

"When did he join the Winterfell guard?" Mei Yi asked the nearby Haelmolan.

"He just joined yesterday." Haelmolan felt embarrassed, sensing Mei Yi's tone of reproach, "He's a mercenary from the south, ah, Your Highness, I think Winterfell is short-handed, so I recruited some outside the city. This person didn't come knocking on his own; I just picked him at random, so..."

"So he's not a spy sent by someone else?" Mei Yi sneered, "If someone of unknown identity could easily enter Winterfell, I don't know what safety the castle could still have." "What's his name?"

"Uh..." Hael turned red-faced. "Your Highness, I don't remember his name; I know he's a mercenary hoping to find opportunity in the north. I think we really need to fight..." He trailed off.

"Your Highness, this person's name is Bolong." The beer belly interjected, "This guy previously served the Duke of Edelmutri; not long ago he had just left Riverrun and come north."

Mei Yi was dissatisfied with that answer.

"When did we ever need strangers to join the army!" Mei Yi felt a bit displeased. Although she no longer had a brother in Winterfell for enemies to assassinate, she would soon be reunited with her sister.

Moreover, who knows whether the enemy won't turn their sights onto someone else?

"Your Highness, this... we originally didn't intend to let him join the army. When we met him, he was buying a robe at the Winter Market; if you saw him shivering from the cold, you would certainly not think him a spy."

What kind of logic is this? "Does a spy just have thick skin?"

"A spy wouldn't be so inexperienced about the north." Hael said without confidence.

Mei Yi glared at him.

"Your Highness, at first we just wanted to ask him if he could sell us his horse—you know our warhorses have always been short." The beer belly, observing Mei Yi's expression, spoke carefully: "We examined his horse; it bore the Tully mark, and he himself could give us detailed accounts of Riverrun, so we felt he wouldn't be a spy, and moreover, moreover, we were the ones who approached him, and he never voluntarily asked to join us."

A mercenary willing to sell his horse to you is already suspicious. There's no forced buying or threats; Mei Yi simply does not believe it. As for why he went from being a threatened target to a fellow fighter, she couldn't fathom it—most likely it was their invitation.

No need to investigate further.

As they were speaking, Bolong rolled over on the damp sand, using the momentum to pull Ptolemy down; at the moment Ptolemy fought back, he had already drawn the dagger at his waist and pressed it against Ptolemy's completely exposed neck.

"I'm not a northern hick, I'm a swordsman from the eastern shore!" Bolong gave Ptolemy a cruel smile. "I'm mostly a southerner."

Ptolemy pushed aside the dagger at his throat, took back his clothes from a nearby soldier, shoved through the crowd, and walked away angrily.

"Welcome, take care. The hot springs baths in Lin Dong City are nice!" Bolong bowed to Ptolemy's back, chuckling, then snatched the pouch from a soldier's hand and weighed it.

"Damn, if only the gold were about right."

The crowd booed Bolong.

"What the hell are you doing here, you southern bastard?" a nearby soldier boldly asked.

"Of course, to earn Bolton's castle." He suddenly turned around, smiling, and bowed to Mei on the bridge.

Mei stepped down from the bridge and headed toward the drill ground; soldiers made way for her, and a few bold ones shouted quietly, "Teach him a lesson!" which then provoked a burst of laughter.

"Wanting a castle isn't that easy." Mei said to him, "If we win, the north will have many vacant castles, but there are plenty of people waiting to claim them."

It's fine; I only want one castle, preferably a big one." He smiled casually, "Your Highness, I knew when I was in the south that you're generous—a castle should be nothing to you, right?"

I'm generous to friends and those who have rendered service, but stingy toward enemies and the incompetent." What does "trifle" mean?

That's good; I hate the kind of person who's stingy with friends and those who've served but generous to enemies and the incompetent. I've been losing to such fools my whole life." He fingered the dagger in his hand, then carefully put it back at his waist, "Your Highness, serving under you, I think it'll be easy to earn merit. If I were in your army, I'd certainly not let the one-handed kingslayer get away."

Mei Yi pursed her lips; letting the kingslayer go was her regret.

The kingslayer almost escaped right under her nose; if she had paid a bit more attention, perhaps the situation would have been different.

She didn't want to say it, but victory had made her proud, yet victory had indeed relaxed her. The consequence of letting her guard down was regret and a hint of shame.

The kingslayer almost fled alone, and during his escape he even killed a pursuing northern soldier—truly embarrassing.

If the kingslayer were captured, surely he couldn't become the regent of the Iron Throne, right?

This situation made her feel quite miraculous.

However, the kingslayer's safe return to King's Landing also benefited her—at least negotiations with his hostages were progressing smoothly, according to news from the south.

If the news is correct, soon the Riverlands will send back the remains of Robb, the direwolf Grey Wind, and the northerners who followed Lord Eddard south; at the same time, they will return to Winterfell the Stark family's ancestral sword Ice.

Only then could her entire southern expedition be considered somewhat successful.

You'll have a chance to earn merit." Mei Yi said lightly, "But wanting a castle—heck, a big one—requires a great deed."

If the required merit is too much, I don't mind just being good friends." He smiled at Mei Yi, picked up the wooden sword from the ground, and flung it far toward the sword rack.

Mei Yi smiled and walked away. Such a person certainly wouldn't be a traitor.