Chapter 221

Morning, Ruika woke up curled in a corner of the military camp covered in ash, feeling his whole body frozen stiff, his body reeking of a dull burnt smell; he stretched, feeling spirited, except his chest and lower abdomen ached a bit.

It was too much trouble to take off his leg armor for a close look, and he pretty much knew what the wound was: most likely a piece of burning charcoal had slipped through the gap between his collar and fallen into the layered armor; during the battle, in extreme danger, he had no chance to dodge or calmly pull it out.

He thought enduring a while would fix it, but he didn't expect that after a night the burning pain still hadn't faded; he hated this endless stabbing pain. Moreover, what surprised him was that he actually managed to fall asleep afterward on the perilous battlefield.

He carefully rose to his feet, avoiding brushing against the wound whose exact spot he couldn't tell.

The battlefield had been cleaned up again; the enemies' corpses were piled into a heap like a small hill, and no matter what they looked like in life, in death they were stiff as dried salted fish.

He didn't see the corpse whose neck he had split, nor the enemy he had stabbed in the throat, nor the ugly wretch who fell from the hanging tower—that person's dying voice was also ugly.

How many more can be credited to his name, Ruika? Every wronged soul ought to remember clearly.

Heh, the one who killed you is called Ruika Pu'er!

He really wanted to know the names of those who died by his hand, so he could engrave them on seals to hang around his neck, to leave someday to his descendants—best if the Wolf Girl herself hung them for him!

He glanced over the overturned hanging tower; the scene of last night's battle here remained vivid in his mind.

Several soldiers had already cleared the surrounding broken wood clean; only the bloodstains nearby and the leftover wooden ladder still spoke of last night's perilous fight.

He put on his helmet, walked past the neat patrol unit, hoping that after passing a newly built barracks he would see the guard cavalry, and see Huangli.

The Wolf Girl's position was easy to spot. That huge wolf banner, like a bedsheet, hung lifelessly on a fairly intact tent, looming in the thin dim mist atop a lone wooden pole.

"Where's the Wolf Girl?" he said, seeing Qiaozhi standing dazed under the wooden pole, then he grinned and slapped his shoulder, pulling him into an embrace.

If it weren't for this little noble's weary expression, he really wanted to plant a hot kiss on his dirty face, knowing he wasn't on the stiff corpse board, Ruika was especially glad.

Qiaozhi's expression turned unnaturally to the side. At that moment the Wolf Girl was walking out of the tent.

Ruika hastily let go of Qiaozhi, but accidentally brushed against a burned spot, feeling a piercing pain.

The Wolf Girl gave him a strange look.

"You blew the horn well." the Wolf Girl told him, "The cavalry could appear in time, thanks to you!"

Ruika secretly curled his lip.

His contribution far exceeded blowing the horn; whether or not he blew it, the cavalry waiting below would hear the commotion and advance here. But beheading commanders, capturing flags, demolishing towers and clearing buildings—no one else could replace that, and he didn't know how many soldiers he had saved from death—unfortunately the Wolf Girl charged at the front lines, never seeing him from behind, and surely never saw them line up to break each enemy that tried to overwhelm them.

But he wouldn't boast of his achievements before the Wolf Girl like others did, especially since her leather armor was covered in bloody ghastliness, making him ashamed to speak.

The seals hanging from her neck might crush her to death!

Blood had congealed on the outside of her leather armor, still as fresh as last night. She didn't know exactly how many Bolton soldiers had fallen beneath her sword, but this night‑raiding guard unit lost only about ten or so, most of them to Bolton arrows; Ruika personally watched the Wolf Girl pray for them at the first light of dawn.

The bodies of these fallen soldiers will be left where they lie, to be gathered and hauled back by the White Harbor militia tasked with later supply transport.

He didn't know whether, as the corpses grew more numerous, there would still be people and enough carts to haul them; he also didn't know whether, if the scribes who rode out to the battlefield likewise died, the registers recording their deaths would be lost on the field, or whether, if Stark's enterprise failed, anyone would still remember them.

"Whooo..." the assembled horn sounded at this moment.

Ruika hastily mounted Huangli and rode toward the guard unit. The guard cavalry again opened up the main force until a towering hill, where the Wolf Girl halted at mid‑slope, looking down on her troops.

"This is just a small skirmish with Bolton; we've taken only a tiny outpost, and we've slain only about three hundred Bolton soldiers, driving off even fewer." the Wolf Girl said, lightly reining in her horse at this moment, "Future battles are many. Many believe the rivers, fertile fields, and pastures of the east will open their arms to us; the rebels' mother harbor, forts, castles, even their daughters and servants will, from today on, lose their original names—this is only natural."

The dawn's thin mist froze her voice. Ruika felt this rally came too late; at least the dozen‑odd comrades who died would never hear it.

"Stark's most loyal retainers! My knights! Yesterday was merely a trifling little victory, with more awaiting us! I originally wanted to say there were still much honor and victory awaiting, but that's far from enough, because you haven't realized how great a thing you are doing, nor have you come close to unleashing your potential—I know what your potential is!"

His attendant cavalry sat on their horses, focused and silent. Ruika felt it unnecessary; if the Wolf Girl wanted to boost morale, she should also inspire the cavalry, infantry, and her heavy cavalry that she had left behind, rather than her guard cavalry.

He couldn't imagine anyone more loyal, more willing to fight for her, more confident in her, or more eager to obey her orders than they.

"Those ancient families, those ancient surnames you've admired and remembered since childhood—whether Feilinte, Saiwen, Huowude, Luoke, or Anbo, Geluofo—I mean no offense—at first they were merely Stark's companions, instructors, retainers, and cavalry. Some history you surely don't know; let me review it for you: five thousand years ago, Feilinte walked out of the forests, following Stark's northern kingdom south and north, scattering seeds everywhere; three thousand years ago, the Huowude clan gained a small fief in the east; two thousand years ago, Luoke was granted the old city; fifteen hundred years ago, Geluofo settled their homestead in Wolf Forest; a thousand years ago, Moermeng finally secured Bear Island and chose the black bear as their house sigil—and in the past thousand years no new northern house has risen!"

Ruika admitted he was starting to feel stirred—what was this hinting at?

"Your surnames may endure through the ages—Banji, Laikelai, Miken, Nieer, and the younger Kaisuo, Pu'er, Heerman, Molan—but step outside Stark's lands and few will know your names; cross the White Blade River and you'll be nearly nameless; cross the Neck Marsh and you'll only be laughed at by the southern clans bedecked in flowers…"

Ruika gripped the reins, straightened his back, and listened closely to the Wolf Girl's next words.

"Since the wheel of history has turned to today, I tell you plainly: this is the one‑in‑a‑thousand‑year opportunity: we do not fight for paltry coin; foolish Frey has piled his gold and silver in warehouses, only to lose it all at once; we do not fight for sharp armor and weapons, for with money we can forge or buy them anytime, and the Braavosi have already filled their ship holds with arms and armor to ship to us; nor do we fight to snatch witless horses and obedient servants from defeated foes—that's banditry; as long as we keep our strength, ordinary people will strive and give!"

"My lords!" he said, seeing the Wolf Girl's face flush and her emotions rise, "I am not asking you to abandon these trifles; I want you to set your sights higher, to surpass yourselves and unleash potential you never imagined—you may not grasp it, but as long as you stand steadfast by my side, I will make you understand—the new Stark needs a new Saiwen, a new Anbo, a new Geluofo, and a new Moermeng, and your surnames will be etched alongside those names in the annals of the North."

"For the North!" they shouted.

"For the North!" Ruika whispered through clenched teeth.

"I only want to tell you this!" the Wolf Girl then shouted, waving her whip, "When future historians write your chronicles, they will say history begins today!"