Chapter 14: The Lord of the Dreadfort

The Lord signaled his personal servant to remove the leeches that had sucked their fill of blood, then put on his undergarments, simply threw on a gray wool sweater, and draped a lambskin jacket over his shoulders. The servant stood obediently to one side, waiting for his next command.

The Lord could see confusion in his fawning eyes, but this man was smart and knew how to maintain respect and silence.

Maesters liked to use leeches to treat patients, letting them eat the rotten flesh on wounds to prevent infection. Besides this, the Lord's view was slightly different; he believed leeches could absorb toxins in the blood, preventing people from being controlled by toxins. He was convinced of this. Young people were impulsive and irritable because their blood contained irritable toxins, and old people were decaying and weak because their blood had accumulated too many years of filth. If a person wanted to remain calm and sharp, they had to be bled by leeches from time to time.

The Starks didn't understand this. They called their impulsive and willful clansmen "having the blood of the wolf" and took pride in it. If he remembered correctly, the North had already paid many painful prices for the blood of the wolf.

That Brandon Stark who was strangled by him in King's Landing was very impulsive. He had won the nickname "the Wild" for doing things without regard for consequences when he was young, and people said he had the blood of the wolf. His sister followed suit, riding horses and hawking, cockfighting and dog-fighting all day long, and took pride in it.

The world said Lyanna was abducted by Prince Rhaegar, but in fact, it was clearly that girl who was vain and willful, forgetting what responsibility was before the crown of flowers, and followed the prince away. This was the blood of the wolf. More recently, there was Robb Stark. Essentially, they were all impulsive young people, acting without regard for consequences, abandoning responsibility, plagued by the toxins in their blood, and his legitimate son Domeric Bolton was the same.

They all paid the price for their own stupidity. The Lord did not want the North to follow in their footsteps.

Leaving his new wife, the Lord stepped out of the room and found it was raining ice again, which had been going on for quite a long time. Outside the field of vision, the river was surging, muddy like sludge, and several pedestrians who wanted to cross the river were bargaining outside the castle, and after being rejected, they wandered around in the rain, at a loss. The Lord was a guest of The Twins. These were not his business.

After the wedding, the Lord had been living at The Twins. He had received the commendation and appointment from the Iron Throne, and now, he was the new Lord of the Dreadfort, Warden of the North. A title was just a title; he had always been clear about that. Now, what stood in his way were the ice rain and Moat Cailin, which hindered him from returning to the North to clear out the remnants occupying Winterfell. Only by completely clearing out the direwolves could he be worthy of the name. Lord Tywin held the same view. Regarding this matter, the Lord had already ordered Rick Bolton to summon vassals. According to the reply, at this time, at least two thousand infantry remained at the Dreadfort, and at least one thousand infantry and one thousand cavalry were deployed along the Weeping River to prevent harassment by the bastard's pirate troops.

In the South, his strength was even stronger. He commanded three thousand infantry and nearly one thousand remnants of other Northern families. If he could open the passage of Moat Cailin, he could also bring two thousand Frey soldiers, two thousand Westerland soldiers, and two thousand Reach soldiers back to the North. This was what the Iron Throne had promised him, just waiting to deal the final blow to the Stark bastards, cripples, children, and foolishly loyal vassals who were stubbornly resisting the country's division.

To solve the passage problem of Moat Cailin, the Lord had been a guest at The Twins for nearly a month. He had sent several trusted commanders, including Liles and Coles, to Pyke to negotiate, waiting for news of their return. But many days had passed, and the Lord had not received any reply. He remembered that before leaving, he had borrowed several cages of ravens from Lord Walder Frey. If they had arrived at Pyke smoothly, at this time, at least one raven should have returned, right?

The Lord felt a slight sense of unease. Perhaps the effect of the leeches in the Riverlands was not good, perhaps the Frey bloodline had contaminated him.

These past few days, the Lord had been playing with the fat Frey lady, and the Lord unexpectedly discovered that he liked the lady's high-pitched screams. Lord Walder seemed to like it too, taking this scream as the best compliment, and sent him many gifts. The Lord thought to himself, if that boy Robb Stark had done half as well, he wouldn't have faced such an ending.

"My Lord, my father is looking for you." One of Lord Walder's sons walked over through the rain, his hair soaked by the rain, flowing over his pale long face and messy short beard, making him look miserable.

The water remaining on his cloak flowed along the threshold into the room, like a small river, spreading slowly on the ground. The Lord moved forward, dodging slightly.

You mean invite me over, right? "Ser, please lead the way." His servant put on the prepared cloak for him. Lord Walder had too many sons; he didn't know which one this was, nor did he know his name.

"My Lord, I am not a knight." He seemed a bit embarrassed, and his face actually turned red. This was rare among the Freys, but the Lord hoped he would remain silent and lead the way quietly.

The Lord stared at him until he was sure the Lord would not reply again, then turned and walked into the rain to continue his task.

The east and west castles of The Twins were connected by a wide stone bridge, and there was a bridge tower in the middle of the bridge, monitoring all passing ships. Now the rain was continuous, and the river was surging, no more than a few dozen feet from the bridge deck. He had walked across this bridge many years ago, when he had just finished his fosterage at Raventree Hall and was passing through here on his way back to the Dreadfort to inherit the title.

The rain hit his face, making the Lord feel his head was clearer, completely taking away the trace of unease that had just risen. He began to like this cold rain a little.

The Lord soon arrived at the east castle. The servant took off his wet cloak for him and thoughtfully brought him a full basin of hot water and prepared towels. He soaked the towel, wrung it dry, wiped his face carefully, and the heat made him feel his face was a bit rosy. Then, under the servant's guidance, he met the master.

Lord Walder Frey's room was very warm, but at this moment it was filled with damp steam.

"Please forgive me, my grandson-in-law." The Lord of The Twins was small, but his voice was not small, "Hey, I hope you don't mind me saying that, after all, you are already the Lord of the Dreadfort, Warden of the North."

The Lord twisted the corner of his mouth, which counted as a smile, and didn't mind.

"Well, what I want you to forgive is that I just took a hot bath with my new wife in the room, um, right here," he indicated the location. The Lord looked in the direction indicated, and sure enough, there was water all over the floor, "Hey, so, it left the room full of dampness. Um, I don't like this dampness at all, it's not good for health, but you know, I'm too old, and I can't go to the bathhouse. I feel dizzy when I go there." The Lord looked at the old Lord with interest. The old Lord enjoyed the feeling of still being able to speak too much.

Should it be corpses left behind, not tongues?

"Hehehe, I originally wanted to see you in the living room, but I couldn't bear to leave my warm room," Lord Walder sucked his lips, "The living room is dark and cold. Are you satisfied with the arrangements those boys made for you?"

"I am very satisfied." The Lord pursed his lips and said softly.

"Oh, satisfied is good, satisfied is good. You know, what I gave were all treatments for relatives. I have never been thin on relatives. By the way, let's talk about business, let's talk about business!"

The Lord pursed his lips again, and others had better understand this as a light laugh.

"The parchment is beside your hand, Lord Bolton." He put away his smile, "Read it slowly yourself."

It was a small roll of parchment, undoubtedly taken from a raven. He straightened the scroll and saw it written:

"The North is mine. That bastard named Liles dared to threaten a king, so I threw him off the castle. Maybe he can swim back himself. The others were sent by me to Old Wyk to mine. I promise, if they mine enough silver equal to their weight—I originally wanted to write gold, but this gold is enough to buy a second North, you Northern poor ghosts will never see it in your lives—I will forgive their offense and let them return to their homes that are not allowed to be placed in the North. King of the Iron Islands and King in the North, Balon Greyjoy."

"In this way, the possibility of returning to the North through Moat Cailin is completely lost." The Lord concluded.

"Hey, since he refuses to give way, there is only a strong attack." Lord Walder grabbed his clothes and wrapped himself tighter, "Didn't that wolf cub consider retaking Moat Cailin? He could, why can't you."

Those who attack Moat Cailin are all fools. "A strong attack requires encirclement on all four sides." And the assistance of the crannogmen, "We only have one side."

"Hey, I won't ask which side it is. Now, what are you going to do?"

"During the period of waiting for Balon Greyjoy's reply, I had my men occupy Saltpans. They were collecting ships there, but unfortunately, it was severely damaged." The Lord said as if it were something completely unrelated to him, "Fortunately, I had already entrusted the Iron Throne to release news to rent ships at a high price in Saltpans. If the Iron Throne handles things effectively, merchant ships on both sides of the Narrow Sea should flock here. I only worry about whether the town's pier is enough."

"Hehehehe. You don't have to doubt Lord Tywin's ability," Lord Walder laughed like a little monkey and clapped his hands, "So you knew Balon the Great would refuse?"

"I'm not sure." The Lord rolled up the parchment again and put it back as it was, as if he had never seen this parchment. "I once rescued a Red Priest in Harrenhal. I originally wanted to hang him. He didn't beg for mercy, but kept shouting 'wedding', 'wedding'. At that time, I had just received Tywin Lannister's letter and the news of Edmure and Roslin's wedding. I was sure he knew about the wedding. He was in the prison of Harrenhal and couldn't have known such news, so, I spared his life, wanting to see what else he knew."

The Lord turned around to look at the riverbank and continued: "Then, the Red Priest told me that he saw the flayed man banner cut off the lion's right claw. I didn't understand what this meant at first, but in the afternoon I saw Jaime Lannister who was missing his right hand. The one who cut off his hand was not the flayed man, but the Brave Companions from overseas. Hehe, since they serve me, it's not wrong to say it's the flayed man. The things the Red Priest saw were so extensive that I had to believe he really had some ability, although some were metaphors, unclear, but indeed there was some truth. I curiously asked him if he knew he would become a prisoner, but he replied that everything came for me."

"Hey, what a magical monk."

"It is very magical, but I never trust him." Nor trust anyone, "I originally wanted to flay a piece of his skin, but the North had long abolished flaying, and I had personally promised. He told me he saw my subordinate Liles thrown into the water from the castle and fell to his death. I asked him which castle, he said he didn't know. Liles was a capable subordinate of mine, Lord, you have seen him, silent and steady, always knowing what to say and what not to say, and he never disappointed me in the things I asked him to do. In short, I didn't want him to die, so, taking this opportunity, I sent him far away to Pyke—now it is very clear, this castle is called Pyke. The Red Priest has power, this is almost certain."

"Hehehehe, so, he had already predicted that you would return to the North by ship from Saltpans?"

"Perhaps. But this is not the reason why I stayed here for so long." The Lord looked at the old Lord calmly, "He said he saw the flayed man banner, the lion banner, the rose banner, and the blue twin tower banner ships set off together, sailing to the North. You know, at that time, the Reach army supporting the North was still stationed at Bitterbridge, the Westerland reinforcements were still in Lannisport, and it would take some time to march north—I had to let the North see my powerful allies, so I decided to return with them. This is also something he didn't know. In short, instead of sitting here waiting—I think trading Sea Dragon Point, the Rills, and Stony Shore for Moat Cailin is a good idea, letting them have a base on the mainland, perhaps it can change their nature of plundering, and at the same time borrow their navy." This was impossible, "At that time I had time, why not give it a try?"

"Hey, if Balon the Great agrees to the trade, he must join hands with you against Stark to maintain this benefit. You completely treated Balon Greyjoy as a toy. You are indeed my grandson-in-law."

The Lord pulled his thin lips again, "They were enemies in the first place. As for me, I just wanted to save my subordinates. I once asked the Red Priest if the things he saw could be changed. He said there was absolutely no possibility. The future seen is the past, and the past is an indisputable fact. There are thousands of magic and sorcery, but once the prophecy is activated, it is set in stone."

"Hey, then you don't need to hire assassins for assassination in the future, just let the monk make a prophecy that he is going to die." Lord Walder was deeply interested in this.

"Perhaps it can be done. I sent him out, but it was just to verify the Red Priest's statement." Verification also became part of the prophecy, "According to the monk, if it is a prophecy, it is best to implement it when the object is weak, because prophecy has the ability of self-realization. So, the more prophecy is applied to big figures, the higher the price required, and the harder it is to implement. And if someone drives prophecy for themselves when they are weak, they will not be able to escape the shackles of prophecy even if they become big figures later. I don't know if Liles asked him to predict his fate."

"Hehehe, you saw Robb's fate, so you prepared to defect, hehe. Perhaps that kid predicted it for himself when he was very young. I heard his bastard sister is a witch, was it predicted by her? Hey, he knew he was going to be beheaded?" Lord Walder laughed like a pink old rat.

"I don't deny it. The Red Priest said he was cursed, and then his fate was observed. He said this is the will of R'hllor, who knows. When the future is grasped, fate only grows roots along the result, no matter how crude and ridiculous the roots are."

"Hey, did your monk predict that you successfully took Winterfell?"

"No, considering the ability of prophecy, I forbade him to observe any results related to me. In fact, I don't allow him to be near any fire. It sounds terrible to hear such things, and I never let him get close. Lord, guess, Dreamer Daenys predicted that Valyria would be destroyed by fire. What kind of price did such a prophecy pay? It's simply unimaginable."

Lord Frey's new wife walked in gracefully, like a frightened little bird. She looked worried. After entering the room, she bowed slightly to the Lord and was not prepared to chat with the guest.

She handed a pot full of warm fruit wine to Lord Walder. The Lord smelled the sweet fruit fragrance and wine, and felt his appetite open up. He couldn't help but look at the Lord's wife again.

She wore the gray-blue cloak of The Twins, inside was a purple lace gown, and a gray silk long belt tied the gown at the waist. She was not a tall person, but in this outfit, she looked graceful. The Lord felt the lady's big buttocks and full chest added color to this, but the pale and terrified face made him lose all interest. The Lord found her hair was still not dry.

"This is my eighth wife, Jo..." He was a bit annoyed, "My good wife, what is your name again? Let our Lord listen carefully."

"Joyeuse Erenford, my Lord." Her voice was trembling.

The Lord touched her buttocks, and the Lord's wife was startled, but didn't dodge, and cast an awkward glance at the Lord.

"Hey, Jo was married by me on my ninetieth birthday." He showed a wicked smile, "Now she is pregnant, I believe it won't be long before I add another son."

"Your blessing makes people envious, my Lord." The Lord cast an obscure smile.

"If only I could hold it a little longer." He looked at his wife pouring him a full glass of wine, "Good wife, you are here and I can't talk to the Lord properly." After staring at his wife walking out of the room, he slowly raised his glass and drank half of it, "Eddard Stark died too late, otherwise, I would have to let Catelyn Tully remarry me. Hehehe, I want to see what reaction that little bitch has, hehehehe."

"She has no choice, she will definitely give birth to a pile of little trout for you."

"Hehehe." At this time, the servant entered, moved a small square table, a burning small stove, and a wide, thick chair for him. The Lord watched them place the wine pot on the stove, and served various fruits, including blackberries, raspberries, picked pomegranate seeds, soft apricots, sliced soft yellow peaches, and vegetables and fruits that even the Lord rarely saw. Another servant quickly covered the water stains on the ground with linen and then exited.

"Lord, my good wife is timid, but not stupid at all. Look, she prepared so much for you. Please sit down, you can't let the Lord stand and talk to me."

He signaled the servant beside him to add wine for the guest.

The Lord sat down, raised his glass, and sipped half of it. The warm, fruit-scented hot drink made the Lord feel quite useful, so he took another small sip, "Your wine is beautiful, my Lord." It would be even better if it weren't so sweet.

"Hehehe, I'm glad you like it, my Lord. But these wines can't compare to the stories you tell. When are you going to set off? I don't say this because it's hard to support the army and I'm driving you away, oh."

You aren't? "I am very grateful for your support." He looked at the Lord quietly, "Marching in the rain may damage morale, but compared to going home, these difficulties will always be overcome. Since I have received Balon the Great's cruel reply, I am prepared to set off tomorrow, perhaps I will stay in Saltpans for a period of time. After all, arranging for ten thousand people to cross the sea is not simple."

"Hey, for you Northerners, that's going home, but for others, it may not be. However, for the peace of the Northern Kingdom, they should also raise their morale, right, hey!"

"You don't need to worry, my Lord." The Lord made a calm expression, "However, Moat Cailin has not been opened, and my good wife still needs to be taken care of by you."

"I have taken care of my granddaughter for decades—hey, I took care of her so well, look at how fat she is—it doesn't matter if I raise her for a while longer." Lord Walder sucked his lips, drank another mouthful of hot wine, showed a disdainful look, paused for a while and continued, "You said it won't rain again after this? Is it also predicted by your monk? Hehehe, what a good monk, I want one too. If he can predict eternal summer, that would be best. I hate winter. In winter, I can't eat fresh fruit, good horses fall one by one, and descendants die one by one, women cry constantly, making people feel annoyed..." He narrated to himself, already forgetting the Lord was still beside him.

"The Red Priest said he predicted that from tomorrow, it won't rain in the Riverlands for a period of time. Since he has predicted so accurately, let's believe him for now, but I won't announce this news to the soldiers. If the rain stops tomorrow, they will take it as a good omen."

"Hey, yes." He said hurriedly, making people not know what content he was referring to, "This monk is a treasure. You must take him to the army."

"This Red Priest has some ability. But when I asked for more, he started inciting me to burn people. For this reason, I have been hesitant. Flaying is a long terror, but using fire is a fast terror. When people experience fast fear, they quickly lose memory, and the living cannot empathize, easily forgetting. To maintain it, one must constantly burn... The harmonious land will eventually become disharmonious, but flaying is different."

"Hey, you are indeed the Lord of the Dreadfort. Under your governance, the North will definitely be quiet and become a barrier for the kingdom." The Lord sighed, "When I was young, what I liked most was nuts, but now it's not possible, not a single tooth left. Sometimes, looking at my current appearance, I feel sad. Fortunately, I also like to eat all kinds of fruits, but they must be soft, with thin skin. Oh, I tell you, I also like to let the little cubs brew wine for me with all kinds of fruits. Not having another cup? Warm and hot. If I finish drinking, I have to find my good wife again. I don't have teeth, chewing will make her satisfied."

"I wish you a pleasant time. Lord."

The Lord left The Twins early the next morning, marching towards where the sun rose. The road surface was eroded by rain, and thousands of soldiers trudged with difficulty. He sat on a gray steed given to him by Lord Frey. The steed was gentle and steady, which made the Lord very satisfied.

Serving as guards on his sides were Lymond and Cello. His guard captain "Iron Leg" Walder had escorted Ser Jaime to King's Landing, so they took turns serving by his side. Their abilities were mediocre, far from comparable to Liles and Walder, but fortunately they understood the rules, allowing the entire team to set off towards the destination quietly. Their father was a member of the Lord's father's guard, and it was a normal thing for them to become members of the Lord's guard. The Lord didn't remember his grandfather, but when Lymond first served as a guard, he very ignorantly said his grandfather had also served as a guard for the Lord's grandfather. The Lord didn't hear his subsequent flattery clearly, so he had Walder give him ten lashes as usual, and he became sensible afterwards. A harmonious land, quiet people.

The Red Priest was arranged by the Lord at the front of the team, two horses away from him. Seen from behind, the Red Priest looked a bit ridiculous. His black-gray hair was tightly tied in a strange way, fixed with a skewer, and the bulging lump looked like a big tumor growing from behind.

"Came for you." The Lord thought of the words he had once said. He recalled the situation of the conversation at that time, feeling that the other party had put him in a disadvantageous position with just this one sentence. This was a feeling he had never had before. The monk at that time was wearing a rag that had completely washed away its color. Only by looking closely could one find that the red hidden under the dirt was indeed red. His face was also very red, his skin oily and rough, and many small bumps covered his whole face, which unexpectedly made him look exceptionally majestic.

Why me? He wanted to ask at the time, but what he said was "Why not Stannis, I heard he accepted a Red Woman and even changed his family crest." If the Red Priest liked to show off, he could say, "The Red Woman made Stannis depressed." But the Red Priest responded, "I will help the Lord do things that leeches cannot do, such as making the sea calm, smooth sailing, and safely bringing the fleet to the land the Lord expects. I am not as quiet as a leech, but a little action can harvest more, and I know when to stop."

So he had people tie this self-proclaimed Red Priest to the weirwood tree in Harrenhal. Besides that incomparably angry face, there were thirteen pitch-black scratches flowing with blood on the weirwood tree, which were said to represent the thirteen days Daemon Targaryen waited for his enemy in Harrenhal.

The Lord had Walder take his guard, blindfolded them, and threw spears at him one by one from ten paces away. The Lord promised that whoever could hurt the Red Priest, even a foot or an arm, would be rewarded with a gold dragon—but in the end, no one could receive the reward, and only one spear nailed into the weirwood tree. The red juice of the weirwood tree wound flowed down the spear, dripping onto the Red Priest's face and clothes, making him look like a red devil. His guard members took off their blindfolds, each feeling both regret and shock.

Watching was also the Brave Companions. A clown, thinking he could order the Lord, shouted madly in the crowd, "Demon, demon, evil art, evil art, burn this demon to death!", his noise didn't last long, actually just an abrupt moment, he was pulled out of the crowd of Brave Companions by Walder and punched to the ground. Walder pulled his hair to make him look at the Lord, waiting for the Lord to give an order. The clown still wouldn't be quiet at this time, still continuing to say crazy things.

The Lord looked at his stupid and disgusting face and outfit, ordered people to strip him naked, tie him to a cross, hang him upside down, and flay him in front of the heart tree. This was not the North, no need to violate the promise.

After the Duke set Asaro down, he agreed to let him remain in his party. When he finally rashly proposed burning the heart tree and the fool, Wodun and his guard of Northmen gripped their sword hilts, but the Duke only looked at him with his pale eyes.

"Next time you suggest burning the heart tree to me, I guarantee the one who burns will be you." Alyn nodded in submission, so the Lord satisfied his other half of the request and put the dying clown on the firewood pile.

This exotic Red Priest thus successfully took root in his army. All of this was full of wonder and disbelief. The Lord had always felt it was a bit unreal. But if the Old Gods and R'hllor arranged his fate like this, he could only choose to accept it.

Riding on both sides of Alyn were the Frey family members, Ser Aenys and Ser Hosteen.

In the Lord's eyes, Aenys was a despicable and cunning person, but by the standards of a commander, he was much better than his half-brother Ser Hosteen. Hosteen was just a fool with muscles, so the Lord defaulted to Aenys as the commander of the Frey army on all occasions to strengthen his actual control over the army. The enemy would not be as fragile as the Iron Throne imagined; he needed to strengthen every bit of strength of himself and his allies.

The army moved slowly, and they arrived at Saltpans in ten days. Viscount William Ror had already raised the flayed man banner and his own family's black-bottomed table knife banner to greet him at the camp entrance.

It was said that the demons under Lord Tywin had destroyed Saltpans to a miserable state, but what the Lord saw was a well-built camp, including many vacant military camps, waiting for the rose and lion armies to arrive one after another. In the small town, only a few places still retained the traces left by the fire, those were just charred wood that couldn't be used, brick walls bonded together, and broken tiles. No matter how many sad things had happened here, this place had partially recovered its vitality. The Lord recognized Viscount Ror's work results in his heart.

Viscount Ror was the head of the Ror family, directly loyal to the Dreadfort, managing the vast territory west of the End River and east of Lonely Hill. The Viscount had dozens of small vassal families under him. The Lord saw some banners belonging to these small families in the camp.

The Lord nodded to him on his horse, and then rode into the military camp first, William followed on horseback. Soldiers on both sides of the road stood up and watched him pass quietly. He swept over his soldiers and went forward.

His tent was naturally among the ten thousand troops. The Lord thus began his work. ===== CHAPTER 15 =====