CHAPTER 111
The Shallow River Crossing, thirty kilometers northwest of Oxhead Mountain.
This ford was still several days' journey from Hornwood, yet only half a day's ride from Winterfell.
Ramsay Snow, clad in leather and fur, urged his men to cross the river as quickly as possible.
Mounted atop his horse, he gazed in the direction of Winterfell, a malicious smile spreading across his face.
Unlike the original course of events, the outbreak of war between the Lion and the Wolf had not been accompanied by Ironborn neutrality.
Instead, Balon Greyjoy had launched a three-pronged invasion of the North.
As a result, Winterfell never hosted its harvest feast.
Lady Hornwood never traveled to Winterfell either. Instead, she remained at Hornwood, mourning her husband Halys Hornwood and her son Daryn Hornwood, both of whom had died fighting in the south.
Coincidentally, this also prevented the tragic fate that had originally awaited her.
She was never abducted by Ramsay, never forced into marriage, and never starved to death in captivity.
Yet Ramsay's greed for Hornwood remained unchanged.
The moment he learned that Lord Halys and his heir had both perished in the war, he immediately realized that House Hornwood had become vulnerable.
Without a male heir, Hornwood appeared to him like a ripe piece of meat waiting to be devoured.
His heart was instantly tempted.
To prove himself worthy of House Bolton in his father Roose Bolton's eyes, Ramsay decided to seize Hornwood and present it as a gift.
Thus, while Winterfell was sending ravens across the North calling for aid, Ramsay was already marching toward Hornwood with his forces.
However, events soon unfolded beyond even his expectations.
Halfway through his journey, a series of shocking reports arrived.
Moat Cailin had fallen to the Ironborn.
Torrhen's Square had been captured.
Winterfell was urgently summoning aid.
The cunning Bastard of Bolton instantly realized something.
Winterfell might no longer possess the strength to defend itself.
Soon afterward, further news arrived.
Euron Greyjoy was ravaging lands around Cerwyn and Seagard.
Winterfell had failed to send any troops in response.
This completely confirmed Ramsay's suspicions.
"Winterfell is probably hollow."
"Rather than wasting time on Hornwood, why not seize House Stark itself?"
"How can Hornwood compare to Winterfell?"
"If I marry Sansa Stark, then House Bolton could one day claim the North itself."
"Father will certainly be pleased."
Ramsay immediately changed direction.
He dispatched a messenger to inform Roose Bolton while personally leading his force across the White Knife and toward Winterfell.
Along the way, he turned toward his servant.
"Reek, how do you think I should win Lady Stark's heart?"
Reek grinned unpleasantly.
"Of course, with your charm, my lord."
Ramsay burst into laughter.
"You're right."
"Even the Giant Bear Slayer can't compare to me in that regard."
"And there's still no word from Deepwood Motte. They're probably struggling to defend themselves as well."
"I wonder who's stronger, the Giant Bear Slayer or my hounds."
Reek immediately smiled.
"After taking Winterfell, we can capture him and let him fight your dogs."
"Then Lady Stark can judge the outcome herself."
Ramsay's expression became even more delighted.
"Exactly!"
"She can watch her beloved champion being torn apart piece by piece."
"She'll enjoy that."
"Hahaha!"
Reek joined in his master's laughter.
After crossing the river, Ramsay wasted no time and hurried toward Winterfell.
His greatest concern was that the Ironborn might arrive before him.
Half a day later, his force finally reached Winter Town.
Yet Ramsay did not immediately advance further.
The scattered Ironborn corpses strewn across the fields instantly caught his attention.
Someone had already relieved Winterfell.
"Who could it be?"
"Who dares ruin my plans?"
Ramsay cursed angrily.
However, when he observed Winterfell's battered walls and the seemingly sparse defenders above them, greed and cruelty quickly returned to his eyes.
He immediately sent men forward to scout the castle and attempt to gain entry under the guise of offering aid.
Yet no matter how persuasive his soldiers were, Jon Snow faithfully obeyed Garon's previous instructions.
The gates remained firmly shut.
No one was allowed inside.
Just as Ramsay was beginning to grow frustrated, the earth started trembling beneath his feet.
A disciplined army appeared on the horizon.
Their banners bore the silver steel fist of House Glover upon a crimson field.
The men marched with the scent of battle still clinging to them.
At their head rode Garon.
His sharp gaze instantly noticed the Bolton force camped outside Winter Town and the familiar bastard standing among them.
"Ramsay Snow."
"So the Little Flayer still came."
A faint smile appeared on Garon's lips.
"What excellent cannon fodder."
Without hesitation, he led his force directly toward the Boltons.
"Glover?!"
Ramsay's expression changed repeatedly.
Although the Glover army was slightly smaller than his own, their discipline was incomparable.
Their formations were orderly.
Their morale was obvious.
Every soldier marched as though convinced that any enemy standing before them would be crushed.
Not a single unnecessary word could be heard.
Yet their silent confidence created a pressure far greater than that of any noisy army.
By contrast, the Bolton ranks seemed chaotic and unsettled.
Many soldiers were already shaken by the Glover force's presence.
Ramsay's eyes narrowed cautiously.
"On a battlefield, I can't defeat him."
"But who says victory must be decided on the battlefield?"
A sinister smile crept across his face.
Spurring his horse forward, he rode to meet Garon personally.
"May I ask if you are Lord Garon?"
"I am Ramsay Snow of the Dreadfort, son of Lord Bolton."
Garon pulled on the reins.
His cold gaze swept over Ramsay and the men behind him before returning to the bastard himself.
For several moments, he said nothing.
Yet the pressure in his eyes seemed capable of piercing directly into Ramsay's twisted soul.
The atmosphere became tense.
Finally, Garon spoke.
"Bolton."
"You arrived remarkably quickly."
"A true display of loyalty."
Ramsay's eyes shifted slightly.
Immediately, he launched into a stream of carefully crafted lies.
"Of course."
"When I heard that the Ironborn were ravaging the North, I marched day and night to aid Winterfell."
"Seeing Winterfell still standing truly proves the gods favor the North."
His words flowed naturally.
Anyone unfamiliar with him might have believed he was a loyal ally.
Garon merely smiled inwardly.
"Bolton, you have my gratitude."
His voice remained calm.
"At present, I have been entrusted by House Stark with responsibility for Winterfell's defense."
He paused briefly.
"The castle is crowded."
"I ask that your men temporarily establish camp in Winter Town."
"Once everything is arranged, you may accompany me into Winterfell and pay your respects to Lady Sansa Stark and Prince Bran Stark."
"How does that sound?"
With a single sentence, Garon casually ensured that Ramsay's thousand soldiers would remain outside Winterfell.
Any hope of secretly infiltrating the castle was immediately cut off.
A muscle twitched near Ramsay's eye.
Yet his smile never disappeared.
"As it should be."
"My men will remain outside the walls."
"We stand ready to obey Lord Garon's commands and defend House Stark and the North."
He deliberately emphasized the words House Stark, subtly reminding everyone where legitimate authority supposedly rested.
Garon merely narrowed his eyes.
He offered no response.
Instead, he nodded and led his army directly past the Bolton camp before returning to Winterfell.
Upon seeing Garon's return, Jon Snow immediately ordered the gates opened.
The Glover host entered the castle without delay.
Outside, Ramsay watched Garon's retreating figure.
The smile slowly vanished from his face.
In its place appeared a cold expression reminiscent of a hungry viper.
He licked his lips.
A far more dangerous light emerged in his eyes.
"It doesn't matter."
"Winning first isn't the same as winning last."
He muttered the words quietly before turning away and beginning the task of establishing his camp in Winter Town.
Soon enough, he would have an opportunity to meet Lady Stark.
Meanwhile, after returning to Winterfell, Garon had already sought out Sansa and Maester Luwin.
The discussion that followed concerned a far more important matter.
The future command of the armies of the North.