Chapter 238

Junwei's austere Howard City lay before him, but the defending enemy army refused to open the gate for him; he asked himself he also lacked the strength to force it open, and aside from chipping a stone or two off the city wall, he could do nothing.

When the She-wolf occasionally harassed his army, it was even more so.

Sir Girlet Tiriel sighed at the deep moat and the distant camp. He did not know what this sir was sighing about.

Is it that the weather is not cold enough for the moat to freeze, or is fighting in the north utterly foolish?

Sir Girlet had been complaining that the weather was too cold, so he guessed it was the latter, but when speaking he tried to consider it the first.

"The Earl of Wessex has already sent his nephew upstream to build a dam, blocking the flow of the moat...."

"I want to swim but I can't stop him, yet the moat has dried up, and I don't want to step in mud and rush to the city wall to suffer the widow's filth. Damn, why won't this widow surrender? Could it be that she hasn't been defeated badly enough outside the city?" Girlet snorted, speaking leisurely into the north wind, no longer looking like a graceful commander.

"That widow's surname is Mandle; she keeps letting the river water flow, she will not surrender."

"River Hunter, River Holder," the sir sneered, "What damn Mandle! They still think they are the Chancellor of the Mandle River? Can that Mandle even lift a fork?"

"We should be glad he didn't block the gate——the one guarding the gate for the widow is her brother, and he doesn't believe I can give Howard Castle to him. I don't know if holding the king's commission would be more effective."

The Iron Throne provided Bolton with only a tiny amount of gold, but the blank documents given to the duke were many, even the blank documents appointing a North Marquis were directly given seven copies; unfortunately, the little king now sitting on the Iron Throne is not named Joffrey, so he does not know what use these documents still have.

"You are merely an insignificant heir, not even the son of Lucius Bolton; why should he trust you?"

Because the red wedding was too well done? He smiled faintly.

"The duke will soon bring reinforcements from Sunny City." The duke can try it himself.

"You're so relaxed, don't you know your heirship is not secure?" He suddenly laughed, "When I was your age, I would strive to perform before my father, letting him know I was a qualified heir! Don't you think more?"

That was an approving laugh.

"His strategy is to quickly take Howard City, threaten White Harbor, and force Mandle to give his daughter to you in marriage, but the She-wolf's great army is right before us, and this strategy has completely failed."

"He knows I have already done my best." Wouldn't it be smoother to force after defeating the She-wolf?

"If he thought you had done your best, he would order us to withdraw rather than come here himself. I taught you earlier to use catapults to throw prisoners into the city, and you can't even do that—what basis do you have to say you've done your best?"

"The regent did that to the Faith of the Seven, and see what he reaped?" Thieves filled the city, religious rebels everywhere.

"The Great Sparrow is a madman; kidnapping the queen is unfathomable, and if I were him I would do even worse."

"Why not declare the High Septon a heretic sooner, or move the church's seat to the old town?"

"The church's headquarters is already in the old town." The sir was a bit impatient: "When exactly will the duke arrive? The She-wolf's great army is already ahead; we must quickly decide whether to fight, retreat, or persist in building the dam."

"Ugh..." As he was about to speak, a mournful war horn sounded from the northeast, echoing through the deep winter valley.

They turned their horses and rode toward the camp gate, waiting a long while, only to see the duke riding a great horse leading a host of cavalry through the camp's main gate. The high-flung flayed man flag waved valiantly forward; as they passed, soldiers on both sides stood to attention. In an instant he knew the duke was the true commander of the Bolton army; he was merely a temporary appointee.

"Sir." Rick Bolton stepped forward to greet him; the duke replied coldly, but the red-robed monk behind the duke showed a big smile, whose meaning he did not know. The smile on his face looked sinister, as if an evil spirit were wandering across his face.

"Not bad, I see the prisoner camp is fully stocked."

He did not know how the duke had seen the prisoner camp, for there was no prisoner camp set up in the direction from which he came.

"He did well against Mandle; he besieged well against Howard Castle; but his attack on the widow was weak, and his pursuit of the She-wolf was pathetic." The sir spoke heatedly; Rick Bolton knew the praise was more generous, but if he didn't mention the She-wolf, he would be more certain.

The She-wolf toyed with him in the palm of her hand; he had better thank the She-wolf for not bringing enough arrows.

"Return to camp, summon the officers." The duke replied.

Inside the warm tents of the great camp, the commanders of this great army quickly gathered together, whether it was Marces Rowan of the Tyrell army, or William Marcko from the Dreadfort lands, or Motmore Mor.

The Tyrell officers stood silently on the left, all gazing at the duke. After William Marcko of the Dreadfort's suggestion to withdraw received no reply from the duke, the other officers also began to stay silent.

He noticed that many people, while looking at the duke, also turned their gaze toward him, as if hoping he would speak of retreat.

On this battlefield, deliberately facing the Stark army that held the cavalry advantage, engaging in battle would be overly passive. But he felt these officers were more fearful of the She-wolf's fearsome reputation earned in battles everywhere.

After the silence and calm had lasted long enough, the duke gave him a meaningful look, followed by more gazes.

The duke wondered whether he should choose not to retreat; he was uncertain.

He felt his heart race, yet this was not a time when he could choose to retreat, as Sir Girlet had said, his heirship was not secure.

Beside him, Rogal Bolton was giving him a meaningful look!

"Sir, the main force can first retreat to Sunny City," awaiting news of Frey, "let's wait and see. Other troops can scatter to the viscount castles captured along the way; since the She-wolf's forces have more cavalry, we can use these castles to gradually wear down her strength."

"I can't think of a better strategy," the duke gave a faint smile; when he thought it was approval, the duke glanced at the red-robed monk beside him and said, "But that is the choice under normal circumstances. We must defeat her, otherwise whenever we meet her everyone will choose to retreat. This is the River East."

The red-robed monk stood beside him, baring a ferocious grin, while the nearby officers instinctively kept their distance.

"What is meant by normal circumstances is that we cannot take Howard Castle, but since the duke lies before its walls, this is naturally not a problem. We need to consider how to rely on this stronghold to fight the She-wolf." The red-robed monk spoke, causing the officers to glance askance, but no one dared to ask or refute.

"Frey's progress is smooth; I hope they succeed." The duke said lightly, as if Frey had already taken Winterfell, "As for that mongrel cavalry, that too is easily dealt with."

"The North hasn't seen snow in a long time; it's time for a..." the red-robed monk added triumphantly.

"Monk, snow may not be good for the She-wolf, but it's no better for us!" Sir Girlet interrupted him.

"The North's snow is heavy, but the castles are sturdy; isn't hiding in Howard Castle better than freezing in a tent?" the red-robed monk replied casually.

"If the widow would open the gate for you, monk, that would certainly be better." The Tyrell officers all laughed upon hearing this.

The Bolton household's officers, however, remained oddly silent.

"Why not?" The firelight seemed to tremble on his face, "I can assure you, sir!"

"You damn monk should be hanged!"

"Sir, if heavy snow falls, the She-wolf might retreat, returning to White Harbor..." Rick Bolton reminded.

"Young Bolton, the She-wolf will not retreat; as long as we provoke her. Even if she retreats, at that time we can use the heavy snow to launch a sneak attack on her—I know many people are skilled at this."

"How to provoke?" "How to bring snow?"

"How many prisoners do we have?" the duke asked at that moment.

"Fifty knights and at least four hundred soldiers."

"Winter has come, grain is dear, and we have no surplus to feed them."