CHAPTER 182
The morning sun finally pierced through the lingering mist, illuminating the battlefield that had only recently endured a brutal slaughter.
The heavy smell of blood mixed with damp earth, creating a nauseating stench that drifted across the plain.
Hundreds of Northern soldiers searched tirelessly through the battlefield, looking for the body of Rickon Stark.
Yet after thousands of horses had thundered across the field, countless corpses, broken weapons, churned mud, and pools of blood covered the ground, making the search painfully slow.
Not far away, upon a gentle rise overlooking the battlefield, Roose Bolton stood alongside Edmure Tully and many of the principal lords of the North and the Riverlands, silently awaiting news.
Before long, several lords who had pursued Stannis returned.
All of them had come back empty-handed.
"Gods..."
"That red woman is a monster."
"Every arrow I loosed burned before it could reach her."
"I couldn't strike her."
"At least most of Stannis's men died on the field."
The returning commanders reported everything they had witnessed.
Despite what should have been considered a great victory, not a single smile could be seen.
King Robb was dead.
Rickon Stark had disappeared amidst the battle.
The future of the North had become uncertain.
Roose Bolton stood with his hands resting calmly upon the pommel of his sword.
Several drops of dried blood still stained his leather armor, making his already pale appearance seem even colder.
After allowing the silence to linger, he finally spoke.
"King Stannis escaped."
"But the greater part of his army has been destroyed."
His tone remained calm and emotionless.
"We have avenged King Robb in part."
"But our greatest problems remain."
His cold eyes slowly swept across the assembled lords.
"Stannis still lives."
"So does the red priestess."
"If they possess such sorcery..."
"They'll undoubtedly strike again."
The expressions of everyone present immediately changed.
Each of them recalled the horrifying shadow assassin that had murdered Robb inside the command pavilion.
If such a creature appeared again...
Who among them could survive?
Roose quietly noticed the fear spreading through the gathering.
He immediately continued.
"The power wielded by that red priestess cannot be opposed by ordinary men."
"If the Lord of Light truly grants her such magic..."
"We cannot defeat it through courage alone."
He slowly turned toward Edmure.
"My lord."
"I believe we should withdraw from this place for the time being."
Lady Maege Mormont immediately frowned.
"Withdraw?"
"Withdraw where?"
"Lord Bolton."
"Have you forgotten King Robb's final command?"
A knight from House Locke also stepped forward.
"I agree."
"We should remain here until Lord Garon arrives."
"He is Lady Sansa Stark's betrothed."
"He is the man His Grace entrusted with command."
"If we abandon this place now..."
"How will Lady Sansa judge us?"
Their words quickly met opposition.
Lord Tytos Blackwood impatiently shook his head.
"Remain?"
"For how long?"
"Until Ser Kevan marches here from Harrenhal?"
"Today's battle won't remain secret for long."
"If the Lannisters arrive before Lord Garon..."
"We'll be trapped."
Rickard Karstark immediately answered.
"And without a Stark to lead us..."
"For whom are we expected to fight?"
"For Riverrun?"
Edmure instantly glared at him.
"What do you mean by that, Karstark?"
Before another argument could erupt...
Roose Bolton calmly interrupted.
"Enough."
His quiet voice immediately silenced both sides.
Ignoring everyone else, he turned respectfully toward Edmure.
"My lord."
"You are King Robb's uncle."
"Lord Paramount of the Trident."
"You now hold the highest rank among us."
"What course should we follow?"
It was an exceptionally dangerous question.
Roose had deliberately shifted every burden of responsibility onto Edmure.
Still overwhelmed by grief, Edmure struggled even to think clearly.
He looked from one uncertain face to another.
Then toward the soldiers still searching for Rickon.
Finally he spoke.
"I..."
"I believe..."
"We should wait."
"Wait for Garon."
"He is the one Robb chose."
That was the only answer he could find.
Roose slowly nodded.
"I agree."
"Of course we should wait for Lord Garon."
Then his tone suddenly shifted.
"However..."
"My lord..."
"Waiting here is extremely dangerous."
"Ser Kevan's army remains at Harrenhal."
"They could march upon us at any moment."
"And Stannis's sorcery threatens every noble gathered here."
"If we remain..."
"Fear alone may destroy this army."
After a brief pause, he revealed the proposal he had prepared.
"We shouldn't risk everything in one place."
He looked around at the assembled lords.
"I propose dividing the army."
"One force remains here."
"They'll observe Ser Kevan's movements and welcome Lord Garon upon his arrival."
"The other force..."
He looked toward Edmure.
"My lord will lead it west."
"The wounded will accompany him."
"They'll return to the Twins."
"There..."
"The wedding between House Tully and House Frey will finally take place."
"What?"
Edmure immediately shook his head.
"No."
"King Robb has only just died."
"How can I possibly marry now?"
Before anyone else could respond, Black Walder Frey stepped forward.
"Our family has waited long enough."
"King Robb already broke one marriage pact."
"Will House Tully now break another?"
"Is your family's honor truly worth so little?"
His accusation struck Edmure directly.
Edmure's face reddened.
Several times he tried to answer.
No words came.
After a long silence...
He finally lowered his head.
"...Very well."
A barely noticeable glimmer flashed through Roose Bolton's eyes.
"Excellent."
"Then we shouldn't waste time."
Without waiting for Edmure to issue orders, Roose immediately began assigning commanders.
"Lady Mormont."
"Lord Cerwyn."
"Lord Tallhart."
"The men of White Harbor."
"You've always been among King Robb's most trusted supporters."
"You'll remain here."
"You'll receive Lord Garon when he arrives."
One after another, Roose assigned nearly every Northern lord most fiercely loyal to House Stark, together with several steadfast Riverlords, to remain behind.
Only after arranging them did he continue.
"As for me..."
"I'll escort Lord Edmure safely to the Twins."
The arrangement sounded perfectly reasonable.
Only then did Edmure remember something else.
"What about Lord Rodrik Harlaw and the Ironborn?"
"They came because of King Robb's alliance."
Roose calmly answered.
"I'll speak with Lord Rodrik personally."
"If Queen Asha's men still wish to honor their alliance..."
"They'll accompany us to the Twins as honored guests."
The assembled lords quietly nodded.
No one objected.
None of them realized that Roose Bolton had just quietly divided the coalition exactly as he intended.
The most loyal supporters of House Stark would remain behind to face whatever army Ser Kevan Lannister sent from Harrenhal.
Meanwhile, Roose himself would escort Edmure, together with his own supporters and those Riverlords whose loyalties remained uncertain, toward the Twins.
Toward the wedding feast where an even greater betrayal awaited.
Just as the army began preparing to move, a shout suddenly echoed from the battlefield.
"My lords!"
"We've found him!"
Several Northern soldiers emerged carrying the lifeless body of Rickon Stark.
The young prince had finally been found beneath the trampled earth and fallen dead.
"Rickon..."
Edmure whispered painfully.
He hurried forward.
With trembling hands, he personally helped place the boy upon a stretcher.
Afterward, beneath an atmosphere of overwhelming grief, the divided army slowly returned to the camp at the Trident crossings.