"Yeah, that's what I heard too. Even if you're crippled, the kind Lord Jason will find a job for you, so you don't have to live as a beggar."
"That's right! For Lord Jason and for House East, we shouldn't be afraid of any enemy!"
The low-level soldiers talked amongst themselves, sharing stories they had heard and seen. They knew that Lord Jason had kept every promise he'd made about pensions and care. This knowledge filled the young, eager soldiers with a profound sense of gratitude. Although they still felt a flicker of fear about the coming war, they were ready to face it bravely.
They knew they were lucky to be soldiers under Lord Jason East's command. They had heard stories about other lords in Westeros since they were children, and none compared. Lord Jason was the kindest, most generous, and noblest lord in the world. This was the common belief of everyone in Starfire City.
Jason himself had no idea he was so respected by the common folk. For the past two years, he had been busy building his army, developing his territory, managing his businesses, and fighting wars. He never had time to walk among the people and play the part of a benevolent ruler.
The warm support he now enjoyed came not from grand gestures, but from the stark contrast he presented to other Westerosi lords, combined with his generous salaries and modern, effective medical care.
After an hour's rest, the army of House East marched on.
At that same time, another force was on the move. Ramsay Bolton, the bastard son of Roose Bolton, was now his father's heir. After Roose's trueborn son had died of illness, he had brought Ramsay from the shadows to the Dreadfort and legitimized him. In truth, Roose was filled with contempt for his vicious and cruel son and looked down on his low birth, but he needed an heir. No matter what, Ramsay was his blood.
Ramsay was thin and not very tall, with a sickly pale complexion. This was the result of a harsh childhood filled with discrimination and hardship. Compared to him, Jon Snow's life as a bastard had been one of luxury; at least he lived in Winterfell, with food and clothing ten times better than that of any commoner.
Ramsay's tragic youth had filled him with a deep resentment for his father and hidden a tyrannical personality within him. He loved to torture others; their pained screams were like music to him. To please his father, Ramsay always pretended to be honest and well-behaved in his presence. But in private, he kept more than thirty ferocious hounds in the castle kennels. He delighted in throwing servants who displeased him into the cages with the starving dogs.
His cruelty terrified the staff of the Dreadfort. They were too afraid to ever mention his activities to Lord Roose.
But a man as shrewd as Roose Bolton knew exactly what happened within his own castle walls. He simply tolerated it. While Ramsay's behavior was excessively cruel, it fit with the Bolton family's traditional skill of "skinning." Inspiring fear in their enemies was the Bolton way.
Ramsay rode a sturdy black warhorse. Beside him trotted a dirty, foul-smelling servant in coarse black clothes known only as "Reek." Reek was Ramsay's plaything, the primary target for his sadistic urges.
After receiving a letter from his father at The Twins, Ramsay had immediately followed his instructions. He summoned all the remaining soldiers at the Dreadfort—about two thousand men—and marched south to capture Winterfell.
With Robb Stark and most of the northern lords dead, Winterfell was defended by only a handful of guards, with only Sansa, Bran, and Rickon Stark inside. It was the perfect time to strike.
"Faster! Speed up!" Ramsay shrieked, his pale face flushing red and his narrow eyes flashing with excitement. "We have to get to Winterfell before my father arrives! I'm going to hold a victory banquet for him in the Great Hall!"
Hearing the order, the soldiers grumbled under their breath. But the thought of Ramsay's favorite punishment—being skinned alive—was enough to silence them. They gritted their teeth and quickened their pace.
Meanwhile, Roose Bolton's army of nearly ten thousand men had reached Moat Cailin, the ancient gateway to the North. The fortress was strategically vital, located in the swamps of the Neck with only one road leading north, making it easy to defend and difficult to attack. Roose took it without a fight. He used the heir of House Manderly of White Harbor as a hostage, forcing the Manderly soldiers garrisoning the fortress to surrender.
With Robb and the other lords dead at the Red Wedding, and their armies defeated and absorbed by the Boltons and Freys, there was no one left to stop Roose's advance.
This left the remaining northern houses in a difficult position. They didn't know whether to remain loyal to the nearly extinct House Stark or to bend the knee to Roose Bolton, the man who was about to become the new Lord of the North.
As for Jason East, the Earl of Starfire City, the northern nobles barely gave him a thought. They had heard that the foreign earl was powerful, but they didn't take him seriously. In their eyes, Jason was just a foreign merchant who had bought a title. He was not qualified to intervene in the affairs of the North.
Roose Bolton, however, was far more cautious. He had not forgotten the reports of how Jason's thousand cavalrymen had shattered the Westerlands cavalry, leading directly to the defeat and capture of Jaime Lannister.
But even Roose's concern was limited. He ultimately agreed with the other lords on one key point: Jason East was not from the North. He wasn't even from Westeros. If the foreign earl dared to interfere, the entire North would unite against him. Who, after all, would follow an outsider?
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