Chapter 19: The Duke of the Dreadfort

The Duke originally thought he could move the entire army onto the ships in three days, and then send them to the North like pigs. But sending ten thousand people onto ships was indeed far more complicated than he imagined.

It had already been ten days since he arrived at Saltpans, and he still hadn't completed the task, and it looked like it would drag on even longer.

Boarding the ships had made the army incredibly chaotic. He constantly received complaints from captains, saying they had been waiting here for nearly a month without a single soldier boarding their ships, and the supplies on their ships had long been exhausted. The Duke asked how many soldiers their ships could hold, and the captain replied not less than three hundred. So the Duke promised to use his ship tomorrow and fill it with supplies. As a result, when boarding the next day, Lymond reported to him that after fifty soldiers boarded, the cabin couldn't hold any more, not to mention the warhorses, grain, and other supplies these soldiers carried.

The soldiers who didn't board the ships complained loudly on the shore, waiting to board, while the soldiers who boarded cursed the crowding on the ships, and the captains complained that the soldiers took up too much space, chirping and chattering. Later, the officers also complained to the Duke that their subordinates were separated onto several ships and couldn't coordinate.

The Duke found the captain to question him, but the captain replied that he didn't expect the ship to be piled with so many supplies and complained that the soldiers wouldn't squeeze together. So, the Duke let Cello hang the lying captain, hanging him on the wooden tower built, letting him atone for his lies.

But the ship without a captain became even harder to communicate with, and it was only discovered at the end that the crew didn't know which place they were departing for, let alone coordinating with other ships. The Duke felt this captain was truly damned, and also felt this captain was truly amazing—how did he manage to keep the crew calm without setting a goal?

To make things simple, he had to order all the soldiers on the ships to go ashore and drive away the new captains who came to negotiate. The new captain seemed to think that even if he didn't serve the Duke, he should charge according to the old captain's contract and refused to give in, declaring that if the Duke didn't pay, he wouldn't leave the dock. But he obviously got the matter wrong. The Duke didn't like others asking for exorbitant prices, so he grabbed him and skinned him under the old captain's corpse. The Duke felt his wailing was too loud, so he let the soldiers cut off his tongue first. This was not the North after all.

After some handling, the efficiency of boarding still didn't increase, but at least there was much less noise, at least the volume between the several armies that were arguing endlessly became smaller.

The day after this happened, a giant sea ship called "Braavosi War God" that claimed to be able to cross the Jade Sea capsized and sank at the exit of the port after carrying three hundred people. They only rescued a few soldiers and a larger number of sailors. The rest were all buried in the seabed, together with fifty horses and an unknown number of grain and drinking water. Even worse, the sunken ship blocked the port's shipping lane, and they spent two days dragging the sunken ship to the upper reaches and clearing it, during which two more soldiers died.

Sir Marches Rowan was furious about this and repeatedly lamented to the Duke how many excellent soldiers and knights were on the ship. He was completely overwhelmed by anger and sorrow, and the Duke could hear the remorse in his words, feeling that this emotion stemmed mainly from the loss of his son, who had sunk into the sea. The Duke secretly decided that if the knight successfully landed on Northern soil, he would give him the first opportunity to earn glory. As for his anger and grief, the Duke did not know how to compensate him, so he had all the surviving sailors from that ship hanged, to keep the lying captain company.

After the "Braavosi War God" sank, many ships waiting in the outer sea left because they couldn't determine how long they would have to wait here. To let the remaining ships feel at ease to undertake the transportation business, the Duke had to host a banquet for the captains who still had patience. In the banquet, the Duke promised them that he would arrange the transportation of the remaining soldiers soon, as long as they could continue to wait—all the captains agreed, but they unanimously requested to pay double the commission. The Duke felt he couldn't skin them all.

From that time on, the Duke began to uncontrollably hate these Southerners. This feeling made him feel a bit strange, secretly pondering whether he hadn't used leeches to suck blood for many days, so he lost his calm.

The sunken ship had a great impact on them. Saltpans had three docks suitable for docking. The sunken ship had been dragged to the upper reaches, but the space for ships to turn around had been greatly reduced. After several ship collisions, the captains believed that at most two could be opened at the same time. The Duke agreed, so the entire transportation period had to be dragged out even longer.

When the entire transportation finally fell into the right track, and the Duke handed over all the scheduling power of the remaining soldiers on the shore to Viscount Willam Ror, another ten days had passed.

From then on, the Duke, along with the commander of the Royal Army, Ser Tybert Lannister, and his two commanders, Ser George Marbrand and Ser Tion Lannister, boarded the flagship provided by the Iron Throne, "Golden Hill."

The flagship was a giant vessel with both sails and oars, fully equipped to cope with sailing conditions under various weather conditions. Besides sailors, the flagship was enough to carry five hundred fully armed warriors, a veritable giant of the sea. It was mainly gold and black, symbolizing the colors of the royal family. This was one of the few royal warships that survived the Battle of the Blackwater.

The top of the warship fluttered with the two-part heraldic flag of the crowned stag and the golden lion. Slightly lower fluttered the roaring lion, golden rose, red flayed man, and blue twin-tower flags, symbolizing the main family forces of this expedition.

The Duke bid farewell to the Western army officers and returned to the cabin, seeing Asaro looking at the various colored flags fluttering at the bow of the ship, revealing a mysterious satisfied smile.

"The two-part flag of the crowned stag and the golden lion belongs to the royal flag, so they must hang at the highest place. Just like what you saw in Harrenhal before, the direwolf flag must always hang above the flayed man flag." The Duke approached Asaro, but still kept a sufficient distance.

The Red Priest withdrew his gaze, grinned at the Duke, "The flags that once hung high have been lowered, but the one that originally fluttered is only the flayed man flag."

"Without the direwolf, but there is still the stag, and there is the lion. They are also beasts, or, in your hometown, they are all tamed small animals?"

"My Lord, in my hometown, the lion is a beast, I am not sure about the stag. However, no matter how fierce the beast is, how can it be as powerful as a human? In this regard, to tell the truth, I have always known that what makes me panic and terrified to the bone has always been humans. In this point, to tell the truth, no beast can do it." He laughed happily and suggestively, "My Lord, humans can skin humans, naturally they can also skin wolves, deer, and lions."

"Indeed. Have you ever seen someone skin a lion?"

"My Lord, I haven't, but I did dream of a lion." The Duke stared at him closely, only to see him respectfully say, "In the dream, the lion was besieged by a pack of wolves, fleeing in panic, almost having its neck bitten off by the wolves. I don't know what metaphor this is."

The Duke was not satisfied with this at all. "The ramblings in a dream. You are a Red Priest, not needing to watch the flames, when did you need to dream? Moreover, my subordinates reported that you never sleep."

"My Lord, I also sleep occasionally, just very shallowly. The scenes in the dream cannot be counted; most of them have no meaning. But my Lord forbids me to prophesy things related to you, so I haven't observed the divine oracle from the fire for a long time."

"Divine oracle? What is the difference between a divine oracle and prophecy?"

"R'hllor likes to use metaphors; I take this as a divine oracle. Divine oracles have many different interpretations; different people will have different understandings when they see them, just like the red comet in the sky. And prophecy is to display future activities before the eyes. What is observed from the fire is often these, but not necessarily meaningful, and most of them will not be positioned to the people around. Some priests with higher abilities often don't need to watch, and can know by knowing the divine through blood or other media. R'hllor's gifts are never stingy, but prophecies without sacrifices cannot be generous, my Lord."

"The Old Gods record the past, and R'hllor's prophecy turns the future into the past, and returns to the Old Gods." The Duke pulled the corner of his mouth, like a cold mockery, "I allow you to be by the campfire, by the candle, or by any fire, you can observe however you want, but if you want me to pay sacrifices, it must first let me know the return. Wait until that time, then you can name your price to me."

After returning to the cabin, the Duke felt he couldn't calm down for a long time, turning to stare at the burning candle, but there was nothing in the fire. Black shallow smoke was on the outermost layer, orange-red flames, yellowish outer flames, whitish inner flames, and black candle wicks. He was about to get closer, but the guard's voice interrupted him.

"Duke, Ser Gareth Tyrell requests an audience."

"Please let him in." The Duke stood up, blew out the candle, opened the cabin window, and let the sunlight and sea breeze sprinkle in.

"Duke." Ser Gareth took off his exquisite helmet, held it in his chest, and saluted the Duke, "I am very sorry to disturb you."

The Duke looked at him quietly, smiling and signaling him to sit down. The servant poured wine into the wine glasses and wine pot at this time. The Duke silently poured the two glasses full, waiting for his reply.

"To be honest, I have no desire whatsoever to lead our Southern troops into the frozen North. You must know, the furthest north I have ever been in my life is the Eyrie. Ah, back then, I was seeking a lady for my cousin at the Eyrie, and on the way, we were attacked by those damned mountain clans... Our soldiers are even more so; most of them have probably never even left their small towns, spending their whole lives farming in the fields, hunting rabbits in the woods, and receiving simple training on their liege lord's land. When we recruited them, we didn't say we were going to the North. Sigh, Lord Tyrell paid them extra wages and prepared thick wool sweaters, sheepskin trousers, and coarse leather armor for them, but they are still nervous and uneasy. My lord, I am not complaining to you. I know they are all men of honor, and as long as there is an order, they will not retreat even if there is a mountain of blades or a sea of fire ahead." The knight lifted his wine cup with difficulty and took a small sip.

The red wine looked like rotten blood. The Duke knew he would continue until he said the real purpose.

"We came according to the order of the Iron Throne. But to be honest, what does the order of the Iron Throne have to do with Southern soldiers?"

What does the peace of the North have to do with Southern soldiers? The Duke also raised his wine glass and took a sip, knowing what he meant.

"My Lord, the sunken ship at the port is too discouraging. We have just stepped out of the continent. If there are other setbacks ahead, I don't know what crazy things this group of soldiers will do." Gareth's expression was no different from the other captains the Duke had seen.

The Duke must have been calmer than he imagined, listening much and saying little. After a few cups of wine, the knight finally could not help but state his main point: "For this expedition, I see no choice but to continue paying the soldiers additional compensation!"

"What people seek is nothing but honor, gold, land, and women. Honor belongs to the King; however, the North is bitter and cold, gold is rare, women are coarse, but land is always enough. I will reserve enough fiefdoms for your soldiers."

"To hell with the land!" Gareth shouted, "They are Southerners! Southerners! How can they want the land of the North? Moreover, it is already almost winter, good Lord, it must be snowing in the North now, right? What is the use of land that cannot be farmed? Use it as a graveyard?"

Just use it as a graveyard. The Duke still listened to his complaints calmly.

"It snows in the North even in summer sometimes, let alone now that winter is near? I have understood your meaning, Sir. I have heard that the gold brought back from overseas by Eddard's bastard daughter is so much that it would take hundreds of wagons to haul it; perhaps she is the wealthiest person in the kingdom. If we can take Winterfell, I guarantee that all the soldiers will be able to share in this gold."

"My Lord Bolton, calming the army's morale is really too important. We would rather spend more money than let them be depressed. In my opinion, the reward for each ordinary soldier can be set at twenty gold dragons, the reward for each knight at two hundred gold dragons, and the reward for each lord at ten thousand gold dragons."

"What about the commander of the army?" The Duke asked.

"Commander? I don't need rewards beyond the lords. But if Winterfell is captured, I must get one-tenth of the wealth in the castle." Gareth's eyes were shining.

"Sir, why not? When the time comes, I will rely on your army to bravely storm the castle!" The Duke was unconcerned.

When one of his goals was achieved, he started the second item, "My Lord Bolton, I came with an extra mission." He made a mysterious expression, very eye-catching, more and more like those captains.

"Sir, I would like to hear the details."

"Lord Tywin snatched Sansa Stark, the bride originally belonging to the heir of Highgarden, Willas Tyrell, and married her to his son, the Imp. This made Willas lose a match worthy of his status. I heard that the girl is both beautiful and young. So, we request, if Winterfell is captured, and Eddard's youngest daughter is captured, we want to take her away."

"I actually didn't know that the heir of the Highgarden Duke would marry a criminal daughter? Moreover, we haven't received information about Eddard's youngest daughter for a long time. Maybe she has already died in some gutter. I heard that the girl is crazy."

"Regardless of whether she is crazy or stupid, in short, we must take her back to Highgarden." He stated arbitrarily, as if this were an order.

You can only imagine. "Sir, let me be frank: Willas is the heir to Highgarden, and he will have a better match. If Eddard's youngest daughter is truly at Winterfell, for the stability of the Iron Throne and the peace of the North, she can only be married to the Bolton house. I believe any ruler who wants to stabilize the North would make such an arrangement."

The knight swirled his red wine glass, pondered for a long time, and said, "Indeed, indeed."

After he finished the red wine in the glass, as if he suddenly discovered other solutions, "Since this is the case, we want Eddard's bastard. Isn't she already legitimized by King Robert? Barely make do. As for whether she is worthy or can marry, let our Duke Tyrell decide, but I must not return empty-handed, absolutely not!"

The Duke remained silent, refilling the knight's glass with red wine.

You will return with your own corpse. "She is the Queen of Love and Beauty, oh," the Duke smiled shallowly, "but after all, she is a bastard. If you can capture her, do whatever you want with her." Her right of inheritance to Winterfell was superior to Sansa Stark's. The Duke would not forget that the so-called "dagger revealed when the map is unrolled" was nothing more than this.

"Winter is coming, My Lord Bolton. Please remember, the Tyrell family will always be the ally of the Bolton family in the South." He raised his glass, finished the last sip, and left the cabin.

The storm in the Narrow Sea in late autumn is unpredictable. At this moment, the clear sky for thousands of miles is very rare.

Bidding farewell to Ser Gareth, the Duke walked out of the cabin, looking at the ships of all sizes sailing in Crab Bay like stars in the sky. An army of ten thousand people, four or five hundred ships, will all land on both sides of the Weeping River. How many years has it been since Bolton Port saw this scene?

"My Lord, Lannister says they received news that 'Courage' went very smoothly and has arrived at Gulltown, and others have also arrived there, currently resupplying."

"Gulltown. Robb once requested Lysa Tully to pass through the Bloody Gate, and then return to White Harbor from Gulltown. This small request of his was also rejected by his aunt. Having such a relative is truly desperate," the Duke said to himself, or explained to his guard, "I originally thought she put loyalty to the Iron Throne before the relationship between relatives. Hehe, some time ago, I also sent a request to her, but the one who replied was the Duke of Harrenhal. He said Lysa Tully wouldn't allow any soldier to pass through the Vale, and he couldn't persuade her. So he suggested we depart from Saltpans, and then stop at Gulltown."

Cello listened quietly without responding.

"How long has the Duke of Harrenhal left King's Landing? How could he arrive at the Eyrie so quickly? So, this is Lysa Tully replying in the name of her new husband."

Cello didn't look sideways, staring at the personnel coming and going under the cabin, vigilant of strangers around.

"Returning to the North this time, if we can defeat Stark, we will have a large batch of castles needing loyal subordinates to fill. Do you want to take over one?"

Cello couldn't speak.

"I will arrange it for you. Just say, 'Thank you, My Lord'."

"Thank you, My Lord." He flattened his voice.

"Do you know, when the owner of the Dreadfort was still the Red King, their territory covered the entire North, occupying every place on the east coast, north to Skagos, across Last Hearth, the Grey Cliff coast, White Harbor, south to Oldtown, with the White Knife and Long Lake as the east-west boundaries. Today's Karhold was established on the earliest ancestral land of the Bolton family." The Duke looked toward the ocean. "At that time, the Dreadfort held the entire maritime trade of the North to the East. Brandon the Shipwright had to explore the sea route to the Sunset Sea. His son, Little Brandon, after seeing his father's failure, believed it was an impossible path, so he burned his father's fleet, winning the title of 'the Burner.' After that, the Starks of Winterfell began to point their spears to the East, and the King in the North and the Red King began a bloody battle at that time."

Cello remained silent.

"Everyone knows what happened later. The King in the North and the Red King fought for nearly a thousand years, and finally the King in the North defeated the Red King. In the legend, Rogar Bolton was the last Red King of the Bolton family. This is correct, but long before him, there were Red Kings who knelt and surrendered. That time, Stark stripped two-thirds of the Bolton family's land, gave the land north of the End River to Karlon Stark, gave the coastal land east of the Broken Stream River to the Flints and Lockes, and handed the land south of Ram Gate including Wolf's Den to the Grey Starks, Hornwoods, Slarks, Langs, etc."

Cello listened quietly to this history he didn't know.

"After the war, the Bolton family retained the port at the mouth of the Weeping River, Bolton Port. Without the troublesome Three Sisters to cause trouble, Bolton Port still held the maritime trade of the North to the outside world. The wealth brought by maritime trade allowed Bolton to recover quickly. At the second betrayal, the Red King united with the Grey Starks, Slarks, etc., to attack Winterfell. They were all relatives of the Starks of Winterfell, although they had their own ghosts, they reached a consensus on attacking Stark. Unfortunately, the rebellion was quelled. The Grey Starks were eliminated, the Slarks declined, and finally disappeared completely. As for Bolton, the Bolton family's fiefdom was reduced again, and Bolton Port was razed to the ground. The blue stones of the port left from ancient times can still be seen there today. The protagonist of this story is the Rogar Bolton mentioned earlier." The Duke pursed his lips and looked at Cello, "You have never heard of it?"

"My Lord, no."

"Some records are only kept in the Dreadfort. Of course, the heart tree remembers everything."

Cello remained silent.

"Every time I go on an inspection tour, when I reach the east coast, I imagine the prosperity on both sides of the river at that time," the Duke felt he must have smiled, "I once asked my father why the port couldn't be reopened. He said the port had been completely destroyed, and the river channel was also filled with giant stones removed from the watchtowers and giant stones transported from the Iron Mountains. Even if rebuilt, the shipping lane couldn't be restored, and if the shipping lane couldn't be restored, ships couldn't pass."

"Indeed, this is the reason I let you clear the river channel." The Duke looked at Cello, "Where do you think Winterfell thinks we will land?"

"I don't know."

"Heh, very good, I hope Winterfell doesn't know either."

"My Lord, our army is strong, Stark will not be an opponent." Cello finally couldn't help but speak.

The Duke couldn't help but look at him. "Strong? I'm afraid you have some misunderstanding about strong. We have the support of Frey, Lannister, and Tyrell, but they are all Southern soldiers. How can they adapt to the battle in the North? Looking at them, they are just targets for arrows. Most of them will die in this winter. Moreover, facing a solid castle, what can a strong army do?"

Cello was a bit panicked.

"Our Northern allies, heh, in my opinion, none are reliable. The Dustin family of Barrowton is controlled by my late wife's sister, Lady Dustin. Although she is not as ruthless to relatives as Lysa Tully, our pitiful affection has long been lingering with the death of my former wife and her child Domeric. The only thing that maintains this relationship is her slight hatred for Stark—where the hatred comes from, I won't tell you—and as long as Stark's male descendants are not dead, no noble in the North will truly stand on Bolton's side; similarly, it is hatred for Stark that maintains the relationship with us, Karstark. Others, hehe, Greatjon would rather continue to stay in the dungeon of the Twins than kneel to me. Other nobles who superficially support me, the Flints of Widow's Watch, Lockes, Ryswells, are also half-hearted. They might be used, but absolutely cannot be relied upon. So, heh, all the joints are in Winterfell. Having an army alone is not enough to lay a thorough victory."

The Duke paced back and forth in the corridor outside the cabin, the ancient forests and abandoned castles on both sides of Crab Bay couldn't attract his attention.

"Rick Bolton reported to me that the bastard of Winterfell built kilns outside the city, hiring countless civilian laborers, so he mixed people from the Dreadfort among the civilians—once the enemy army is at the city gate, with Stark's way of doing things, they will definitely transfer them into the city, which will become their opportunity to open the gate. This heir of mine is much more excellent than that bastard of mine."

Cello remained silent.

"Winter is coming, but she wants to burn kilns. Let her be," the Duke smiled lightly, "I am thinking, if the two sons of Stark are both dead, things will be much simpler. That bastard can marry Rick directly. If so, we don't need to move swords and soldiers, and the North doesn't need to bleed. How good would that be? Hehe, have you heard of the Faceless Men on the other side of the Narrow Sea?"

"No, My Lord."

"I let Iron Leg make a trip to Braavos. Hehe, the lives of two children are simply high to the sky."

"My Lord," a voice came.

Cello immediately drew his sword, ready to cut him into two pieces at the Duke's command. But the Red Priest acted as if he didn't see it.

"You only need to pay some insignificant sacrifices, R'hllor will do things for you that the Faceless Men cannot." Asaro actually darted out from behind the Duke.

"Asaro, some words you shouldn't listen to, and shouldn't hear."

"My Lord let me think of the return before naming the price to you, so I came. It's just that my ears are very sharp, My Lord can speak smaller in the future."

The Duke looked at the Red Priest calmly, stretched out his hand, and Cello put the sword back into the scabbard.

"Your god has what return, and what does he require, you might as well say it and let me listen."

"The lives of those two children."

"I take this as a return, a requirement?"

"I will not suggest you burn the heart tree of the Northerners, although sacrificing with the false god itself, R'hllor will be most satisfied."

"Hehe, you better remember this point, you should remember what I once said."

"My Lord, I remember, if I suggest burning the heart tree, you will burn me to death."

"Then I will give you another sentence, if you use 'false god' to describe the faith of the Northerners again, I will burn you to death just the same."

"Yes, My Lord, I have already remembered." He revealed a smile.

"Very good. Now you can say your god's requirement."

"Those two children were originally King and Crown Prince, the price is naturally royal blood."

"Royal blood? I will catch a monkey, build a crown for it, any crown will do, you can call it whatever you want. Let me tell you bluntly, on this ship, north of the entire Neck, I have no royal blood to give you."

"My Lord, there is."

"Where?"

"Further north, the King-Beyond-the-Wall."

"Hehe, I will not send troops beyond the Wall. I am not interested in the King-Beyond-the-Wall either. If they capture the Wall, that's best, at least Stark's allies will have one less family called Umber."

"Hehe, I understand. However, R'hllor doesn't like deception, monkeys definitely won't work," he laughed loudly, "Of course, I have already said, those two children were originally King and Prince, but they are not now; they didn't pick up their brother's title, they are just dukes now."

The Duke felt his eyes were turning cold.

"My Lord. The price is very low, you only need to pay a tiny bit of blood."

"Perhaps I can capture Winterfell with my own strength," the Duke said calmly to the Red Priest, "If, when that time comes, I find that you haven't played any role, I will burn you to death before the heart tree. Because of me, you were able to board this ship, able to solve the problems of clothing, eating, drinking, and even life, monk, these are not free."

"My Lord, I will repay you as much as possible. I said, I came for you." Asaro saluted him respectfully and continued, "There are difficulties waiting for you ahead, I believe, when that time comes, I will definitely be able to help."