The Hunt
Jon POV
I walked through a darkened room of an inn in White Harbor. Nobody knew I was here, not even the occupant of the room. My footsteps were silent as I rummaged through his luggage. For a traveling bard, he didn't have much, but what he had was more than enough to raise suspicions about him. Suspicious enough to warrant further investigation.
No man or woman escaped my notice, especially someone who would travel to the Dreadfort. Most people, particularly the bards, would take a boat through the White Knife and go to Winterfell, not the Dreadfort, and definitely wouldn't then quickly return to White Harbor. Aside from his suspicious traveling, there was no way a simple bard would travel alone and ride a horse so well.
And he had a good horse, but it was not his own- something he must have bought in White Harbor. It was wise not to travel on foot in the North, yet if he had the gold to buy such a fine horse, he could have easily hired a ship to go directly to the Dreadfort rather than stopping in White Harbor. If the man had a relative living there, that would provide another reason to take a faster route, not to mention about safety a ship provided.
That is, unless he wanted to remain unnoticed. Someone who didn't wish to leave any trace of himself would take a more complicated route. That would probably have worked, as no one would remember or care about some bard. A face easily forgotten; as soon as he left the Dreadfort, he would have disappeared along with many other travelers. But even if he didn't leave any visible traces, his scent lingered. And I followed it.
I quickly managed to find a lute. It appeared normal at first sight, but I was sure there was more to it. For now, I set it aside and continued to rummage through other items: a pouch containing two gold dragons, ten silver stags, and a handful of copper coins of varying values. Not a small sum, but not enough to arouse suspicion.
Next, I moved to his body, carefully lifting his blanket so as not to wake him. He wasn't drunk; that alone was unusual. Someone with a coin doesn't simply eat and sleep in the North. After such a long journey, everyone would normally seek to indulge themselves, whether it be with a woman or a drink. But he didn't.
Fine clothing fit him perfectly. Hmm, what's that? Chainmail. That was unusual. And he hadn't taken it off, a habit someone might develop. But why would a bard have such a habit? A dagger under the pillow, fine quality. Too high a quality to buy for just protection. It was probably a gift or a reward.
There was no doubt now. The man was not who he claimed to be. And that was all I needed to know to start in earnest. Slapping the man awake, I covered his mouth as, at my sight, he tried to scream; he quickly stopped when his dagger was put to his throat. The cold steel against his skin made him stiff and silent.
"I know who you are," I said. "I could kill you now, or you could tell me everything you know, and I will give you a pouch full of gold so you can disappear. What will it be?"
"Please, ser, I have no idea what you are talking about." The man faked his tears. Well, it could be real, but his words were rehearsed. "Please just take my gold, but spare my life."
"Why were you in the Dreadfort?"
"I don't know what you are talking about."
Denying? What were they taught? They were taught to deny everything and anything so that it could never be used against them. This only confirmed my suspicion and cleared all the doubts I might have had. He might not talk to me now, but he will talk. I knocked on the bedframe to signal the others to come in. Tormund was too big and too loud to let into the room before, but now he would be taking the man to others who would make him talk.
While I was still not done with my job, I took the lute and broke it into pieces. Sure enough, I found a rolled-up note inside. It didn't have a seal on it, but I recognized the handwriting. There was plenty of information written about the North and its recent dealings. Not something others wouldn't find out in a month or two from word spreading, but not something I could allow the Lannisters to know now.
Deals with Braavos for grain and Myr for glass. It wasn't a secret, but only the lords of the North knew about it, as it was with their word that Robb made those deals. We could not afford the Lannisters to intervene in these plans, at least not for now. Thus, the information held some value, but not enough to risk others' lives. Lord Bolton seemed to be playing a long game.
This wasn't sufficient. I needed more to remove Roose Bolton. That man was careful and would not easily be caught. After all, he was manipulating both the Lannisters and us, waiting for his opportunity. He didn't care who it would be, as long as he got what he wanted. But unlike the Lannisters, the Starks were the ones who stood against him, gaining more power.
He likely wasn't the only one, either. Robb won the war; in every aspect, he demonstrated the North's prowess, gained riches, and reclaimed his family. However, the decision to withdraw from the war wasn't well-received by everyone. Some believed that Robb had left too early, with more to be gained. Dustins and Ryswells were among the prominent voices expressing this opinion.
My investigation clarified that they could never act without someone else taking the lead. Still, they were likely to join Roose Bolton if he decided to switch allegiance. It all depended on whether the Lannisters provided him with enough reason to do so, whether through promises or evidence that they could turn the war in their favor.
Before that, however, I would eliminate them all before they had the chance to prove dangerous to Robb. The letter wasn't enough, but it was a start. With a bit more, I could put Roose Bolton on the defensive and force him to reveal his true colors. The question was how to approach this.
"What next?" Ygritte asked as she walked in on him.
"Next, we will have to go for a hunt, see where those rumors lead us."
As Robb's brother, I have a higher duty than my name and title. It was clear that for all his diplomatic and warfare strategies, he was spreading himself thin. Looking over the woods, he couldn't see the few rotten trees that needed cutting down. And while I had a name and a title, I had little power over other lords. That's why I needed to take action in my way, which would serve to better Robb's stance and the North's preparations for the Winter.
…
"Disgusting." It didn't take long for the three of them to enter the Bolton lands. "And your lordlings dare to call us savages."
"What was the Karstark boy called me?" Tormund asked, grunting in agreement. "Raiders, rapers and more beast than a man. Yet a son of your so-called honorable nobles seemed to fit that description more than anyone I have met."
I said nothing as I continued to observe a woman running through the woods, her dress ripped and torn, hands and legs bleeding from the sharp branches cutting her as she rushed through the thick underbrush. The barking of the dogs followed her. I have heard rumors about this. My eyes stationed near the Dreadfort reported disturbing screams coming from the castle.
"Fuck this, I kill those dogs first before I shoot an arrow between the eyes of that monster," Ygritte said as she prepared her bow and was ready to intervene before the dogs could reach the poor girl.
"No," I held her back. "Ghost, go."
I have other plans. I couldn't leave any traces of ourselves. An arrow wound would be discovered; Roose Bolton would not hesitate to use it against him and his brother, blaming the Free Folk for killing his son and possibly even attributing those atrocities of the bastard to them as well. No, I had to do it cleanly.
We were lucky. I thought it would take days, if not weeks, before an opportunity presented itself to capture the bastard, as I had heard he liked to hunt and would visit nearby villages and towns. I didn't know what those hunts were entitled, though, and there were always nasty rumors about Boltons. I could never have imagined that those rumors were tamer than the truth.
When I heard of it, I wanted to know more, so I turned my focus to the bastard. Not only did I think it would provide me with more information about what they did, but I also thought the bastard might know something about his father's dealings. However, this was worse than I expected. I followed him after he left the Dreadfort and rode with his friend to a remote village.
I watched as they found an innocent girl and convinced her to ride with them. I stalked them, and it didn't take long for Ramsey Snow to reveal his true self. It was a game to him, and he seemed to enjoy it a lot. My emotions shouldn't lead me; I needed to keep Ramsey alive and make him talk about what his father was hiding, and so he could answer for his crimes. But I couldn't hold myself back. I knew it wasn't his first or last time of him playing like this.
The girl ran, using all her strength while holding back her cries. She didn't look back, so she didn't see the dogs stop when Ghost got in their path. They were hungry, but they knew not to cross Ghost. So, they turned back to their master because that was all they knew. We followed them. Ramsey and his friend weren't far away, riding leisurely on their horses.
"What is it, boys?" Ramsey asked as he saw his dogs whimper to him. "Did the girl climb a tree? Don't worry, she will regret it."
He laughed, and his friend joined in. I slowly and silently walked around them. Tormund went to the other side while Ygritte watched from a distance to ensure none of them could get away. It didn't take long for the dogs to sense me as I calmly approached them. Ramsey noticed me, too, not long after.
"Who goes here?" He didn't seem concerned, more surprised by my appearance.
Before he could say anything else, Ghost leaped at him, taking him from his horse and sinking his teeth into his neck. Ramsey screamed for help, but no one moved. The horses spooked. The one Ramsey was riding took off at the sight of Ghost, while Ramsey's friend was calming down the other. It wasn't too difficult for me to take the reins of the horse and pull back the little man to the ground.
I should take him alive; I really should. Yet, it wasn't necessary. Ghost agreed with my thoughts as he ripped Ramsey's throat. The dogs, hungry and trained to hunt humans, found their meal and feasted. The only traces that would be left would be scared horses running home and remains of ripped flesh.
But there was another one, neither Ghost nor the dogs moved on him. He smelled badly, like rotten flesh. I didn't have the in me to force Ghost to rip the little man into pieces, so I finished the work myself. Taking his hair into my grip, I bashed his face into the rock. After realizing he was dead, I put his foot on the horse's stirrup and slapped the horse, taking the body with him.
After that, I cleaned up the scene to make sure no traces of myself were left behind before I left. I knew I shouldn't have done this; capturing Ramsey and making him answer for his crimes would have been a more effective way to undermine the Boltons. But there was a chance that Ramsey could get away. And I could not let this monster have that chance.