Chapitre 11: Chapter 10 BOLTON
" " Dialogue
' ' Internal thought
«» Written note or letter
*** Scene break
() Author's explanatory note
Our caravan departed at noon.
Our first stop was with the Cerwyns. It was only a short visit to rest the horses. Lord Cerwyn received us with all formalities; he even offered us to stay for a few nights, but courteously, my mother declined.
Being a direct vassal of the Starks, their castle is very close to Winterfell. It's not considered a large house, but they are undoubtedly loyal. Perhaps improving the road to Wintertown could be a sufficient reward. Also, due to the proximity, there is no orphanage in their lands. We spent a night with them; apparently, Brandon handed him a black scroll. I must admit, I'm curious about the mission Father gave him, but I won't ask. I have my own mission.
Before leaving Winterfell, Father gave Brandon and me a castle-forged steel sword, as well as 100 gold dragons each for travel expenses. We'll travel light, at least for most of the journey. If I manage to find treasures, I'll have to send them back or buy a pack mule.
Our next stop on our procession was Hornwood. We arrived in less than three days' travel since we didn't bring a wheelhouse. My mother rode horseback with Benjen. Lyanna had her own pony, but she was a very good rider. Brandon and I rode our new colts, a gift from Father. Before leaving, I named my colt Storm, son of a mare gifted by Steffon Baratheon to Father during the war; its father was my mother's horse, a northern stallion.
I spent the three days while riding trying to warg with him; I still can't establish a solid connection, but I can send him small commands through feelings.
As for our company, it consisted of twenty guards, my mother, my brothers, Mance, Martyn Cassel, twenty years old, Cley Cerwyn, Cerwyn's heir, sixteen years old, who joined our northern journey at his father's request, and a very uncomfortable Marwyn, dressed as a knight. He somehow convinced Father to leave his post and accompany us. It escapes my understanding, although after a few days on horseback, it seemed like he wanted to return or at least bring company.
We camped at night without deviating from the route, but if it were winter, we would have to deviate and seek refuge in nearby villages. Perhaps I should set up inns throughout the North. There was never a need, as the northerners didn't move around much, but with the commercial boom I have planned, maybe I should start building supply posts for guards and merchants.
The Hornwoods were excellent hosts. We stayed a moon as their guests. The most relevant thing was the conversation with Lord Hornwood in his solar. Basically, only Brandon spoke since he had matters with him.
"Thank you very much for allowing us to chat, my lord," said Brandon as he handed him the scroll.
"Is what the letter says true, Lord Brandon?"
"Yes, my lord. The purpose of this journey is to inform the loyal to Stark."
"I am pleased that Lord Rickard considers me among the trusted. My lord, may I ask how much time for...?"
"Several years yet, Lord Hornwood."
"Very well. Tell him he has my support."
"And the support is appreciated. That's why I would like to request that you give us a tour of your lands. My brother Eddard is looking for some lands to set up some businesses."
"I understand, Lord Brandon. A reward for the support, I suppose?"
"Among other things."
"If I am honest, my lord, although I can see the appeal of having a profitable business, I would really like a reward of another kind."
"Oh, and what would that be, my lord?"
"You know, youngsters, the Hornwood house is considered a minor banner of the Manderlys, although our house has existed since the Starks subdued the Red Kings and took part of the territory from them."
"Of course, my lord. What do you propose?"
"I would like the Hornwood house to be recognized as a major banner, as well as its rights over the forest of the same name, the right to name vassal houses."
"You understand the complications of such a request, my lord."
"I understand. The Manderlys will agree, too focused on the sea to care about giving up a bit of land. As for the Boltons, it's always good to weaken them before, isn't it?"
"I understand. I will communicate your request to my father. Perhaps he won't achieve it, but the next generation surely will."
"Understood, Lord Stark. Then you have my support in your endeavor."
I still don't know what's so important about Brandon's mission as to propose granting that, but a stronger loyal house is always good.
At the end of our stay, Lord Hornwood asked us to let his guards accompany us to our destination until Karhold for security. A gesture of goodwill, it seems. Although with my mother and my younger brothers in the caravan, more guards are always welcome. Thus, our escort grew by ten additional guards and a supply wagon. They were quite useful."
"Our journey continued; the next stop was Dreadfort. Instead of anticipation, the caravan felt reluctance, as if we were moving more slowly. Then it happened: with less than two days left to arrive, we were attacked by bandits, at least 30 men. I'm sure they were surprised to see such a large company, but they attacked nonetheless. I was frozen. I must say I underestimated the impact of 30 horses running towards you. Surprisingly, the first to react was my mother.
"Guards, form up!" she said, while taking her bow and shooting at a rider.
"Martyn, take 8 guards and flank them on the right; take out their archers if they have any.
"Ned, take Benjen and Lyanna; escort them to the carriage. You and Brandon stay with them; shoot the riders who escape the encirclement."
In a second, we all followed the instructions of my mother, Lady Stark.
Before they reached the guards, my mother had already taken down 4 riders with her bow. In the initial clash, the lightly armored bandits failed to penetrate the half-moon formation protecting the carriage, allowing Martyn to encircle them.
The survivors surrendered when surrounded. I could only hit one with an arrow, while Brandon, a better archer than me no doubt, killed two bandits. The rest were dispatched by the guards, not without losses: two guards died, one lost an eye, and three others were gravely wounded but not fatally. The rest suffered minor injuries of some kind. As we celebrated the end of the fight, in the distance, I saw 5 riders galloping away. My eyes gleamed.
NAME Walton
LEVEL 60
AGE 20
"Ned, don't you think the escaping bandits are too heavily armed? It's as if..."
"Silence, Brandon," my mother said.
We captured 5 bandits; all were between levels 15 and 18, so I knew they were nothing more than common bandits. Additionally, we captured 20 horses. While I watched my mother console Benjen and Lyanna, I approached on my horse.
"Mother, if you allow, I'll take it from here."
"Of course, son."
"Men, we'll take the bandits to Dreadfort to be judged by the Boltons in their land, but we'll take their hand for the forehead," I shouted.
"Luter, once Marwyn tends to your wounds, I want you to take back the dead and seriously wounded to Hornwood. Give their families 10 gold dragons," I said, tossing him a bag.
"Kar, accompany him. Take all the surviving bandits' horses back to Winterfell. Ask for money for the journey and more people to help from Lord Hornwood, and have him send the bill to my father. Brandon, choose three riders to scout the area."
After everyone was healed by Marwyn and had some dried meat, they followed my orders. One group went back, another group, following my orders, had their dominant hands amputated while being put in the supply wagon that had accompanied us from Hornwood.
"Brandon, do you understand why I had them return even though we're closer to Dreadfort?"
"Of course, brother."
Upon arriving at Dreadfort, Lord Bolton awaited us in the courtyard, and immediately after bread and salt, he asked:
"I see you brought company."
"That's right, Lord Bolton. Bandits who attacked the caravan a few days from here. I didn't know the security of the territory was so poor," I spoke.
"Lord Stark, welcome. Unfortunately, we have many bandits in these lands. Not all lands have a genius in the art of counting coppers," he said sharply.
"Hahaha, you're right. Counting coppers is something I enjoy."
"Yes, and also mutilating bandits, it seems," he said, looking at the prisoners.
"But seriously, my lord, threats to my family are taken very seriously."
"I see."
After that, the bandits were led to the dungeons. Despite that episode, they were surprisingly good hosts for a Bolton. During dinner, my mother convinced Lord Bolton that it would be good for him to send them as prisoners to reinforce the Wall, since there were many people in his dungeons. We could serve as an escort to Karhold. Lord Bolton agreed, to clear his dungeons
We spent a few days in Dreadfort quite peacefully. Although after the conversation about Rose Bolton's fostering in Winterfell, the atmosphere changed. Although Lord Bolton eventually agreed, my mother made concessions, such as the right to buy more iron from the mountain clans, as well as the ability to increase his levies from ten thousand to twelve thousand. I don't know why my father was willing to negotiate so much when raising is supposed to be seen as a privilege for the banners. But knowing the history with the Boltons, I'm not surprised how unwilling Lord Bolton is to hand over his heir.
Rose Bolton, 12 years old, is a quiet, slim, pale young man. He doesn't yet have that dangerous aura like his father, but he's a real bastard in his treatment of the servants. Lord Bolton offered for Rose to accompany us for the rest of the journey, but my mother suggested it would be better for him to head to Winterfell immediately. We only spent a week in Dreadfort; apparently, Lord Bolton had a bout of illness and couldn't host us any longer.
The day before leaving, many unexpected things happened.
"If you don't mind, my lord, I would like, and if you permit it, to see the dungeons of your castle."
"And why would that be, Lord Stark?"
"Oh, you know, just as the Ryswells are famous for their horses or the Starks for their direwolves that unified the north, I would like to see the pride of Dreadfort, which are your dungeons," I said smiling.
"Roose will accompany them later."
"Of course, thank you, my lord."
Brandon and I headed to the dungeons after breaking fast. Once we entered, we heard the screams of the prisoners preparing to go to the Wall, although I didn't see any of the bandits we brought here. The journey was interesting, to say the least—almost amusing, I'd say.
"What do you do for fun, Rose? What's life like in Bolton lands?"
"Compared to my lords, who are still children, I must help my father. As you heard, he's not feeling well."
"Cheer up, Rose. You know, you can boast for days about being the only Bolton to have a Stark in your dungeons since the times of the Red Kings. Hahaha."
I only saw Rose clenching his jaw, trying to seem as indifferent as possible to my comment.
"Times have changed, my lord."
"You're right. They're gone; there are no more Red Kings. Haha."
"Well, if you'll excuse me, my lords, I must expedite the prisoners' transfer. You may leave whenever you please."
"Of course, Rose. Thanks for the tour. We'll leave with you."
"No, take your time."
"Brother, isn't he supposed to guide us?" Brandon whispered.
"He broke free; he could only come up with excuses and run away. Haha," I replied.
"Come on, Brandon, he won't be back soon. The fun's over; let's go see Benjen."
That night, while sleeping in the cart with Brandon because they only gave us one room for the two of us, as a show of power, I suppose, I woke up.
"Brando, wake up."
"It's near the hour of the wolf, Ned. What do you want?"
"Let's go, Buck needs to pee."
"Go yourself."
"Come on, let's have an adventure. Aren't you curious to uncover the mysteries of Dreadfort?"
"Ugh, if I say I'm not interested, you won't let me sleep anyway, right?"
We sneaked slowly; Buck's sense of smell was very helpful in avoiding patrols. We followed the same path toward the dungeons; fortunately, they were empty. We walked until we reached the door that I happened to leave open when we left in the morning. There was no one inside; all the prisoners had left earlier so as not to delay our caravan; we would catch up with them in a few days.
I walked to the innermost part of the dungeon, to a wooden door. Behind that door, according to Rose, was the Bolton's special room. When we entered, we froze.
There, hanging, were the flayed skins of men. It was grotesque, but something caught my attention; I approached, and then it happened again.
«My name is Arean Snow, son of Stark. I was taken prisoner during the Bolton Greystark rebellion. They didn't kill me; perhaps they thought they could use a bastard against the Starks, but I refused. I was tortured, but I didn't surrender. During one of the tortures, the Bolton dog said he didn't need me. The Greystarks had lost the rebellion; they were doomed, but they would continue to exist, planning, conspiring as always. I yelled at him that his house would be annihilated. He just laughed. While he flayed me, he told me a story, the story of why his house still stood.
During the war with the Starks, the Andal invaders arrived, quickly ending the Ambers where the Flints of Widow's Watch now stand. It was so quick that they couldn't help their allies. They realized that their family couldn't handle both fronts, so they knelt before the Starks. But before that, they did more to ensure their house didn't perish. Through magic, they sacrificed entire villages to summon something, a being, a curse. They cursed themselves and their descendants. They renounced their runic magic. Just as the Starks could make runes to fortify and raise castles, the Boltons had the power to make weapons, bronze weapons sharper than any, but they gave up everything.
They never told the Starks, but we were powerful. The Starks felt the danger of their curse. Only a few Starks tried to end the lineage, but they all perished from illness, no matter if they weren't directly their killers, if they hired mercenaries or assassins for the job, the patriarch of the Starks paid the price of the Bolton's death. Their blood is cursed; that's why we never marry a Bolton. Their blood is cursed; that's why we don't end the Boltons. And now it would be the same; they would live; we wouldn't end their house.
I'd like to tell Father this information, find a way to convey it, but now I can only keep it to myself, carve the hatred into my skin.»
"Damn," I murmured as I walked away.
'The justification I had until now about the existence of the Boltons was that they wanted us to be sharp and attentive as a family. I didn't think they had such a dark background. But now, what do I do? A big part of my plans was to eliminate the Boltons in the near future. That's why I made an effort to alienate them from the beginning; I wanted an excuse to extinguish them. Damn.'
"My father apologizes for not being able to bid you farewell. His illness is worsening with the spring heat, and with me traveling to Winterfell, there wouldn't be available hosts."
"We understand, thank you very much for your hospitality, Young Roose," said my mother.
"I hope you arrive safely in Winterfell. Watch out for the bandits," I said to Rose Bolton as I walked away.
Just upon leaving Bolton lands, the air seems to have changed, although I couldn't help but worry about my discovery.
'My father must know, but how do I explain it to him? Maybe Marwyn has an idea to undo the curse.'
With that, we set off to the next destination: Karhold.
________________
EDRICK'S DIARY
Entry number 10
Today I depart again towards Essos with a group of heirs from all the important realms. They share my vision; the answers we seek are there. There's a pattern, I can feel it. So many stories, so many places. My wife will stay on this journey, taking care of the North. We decided to bury some things in the Goodwood, the crystallization of all our knowledge so far. I hope that if we fail, someone will take up our research. If you find the chest and I'm still not famous, it means we failed. Please continue our legacy. We need to understand what's happening in this world. We need to be prepared.
End.
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Hello readers, with this, we say goodbye to Edrick's diaries for now, but Ned will find more things. I didn't want only one character to own the absolute truth, so there will be more diaries. Can you guess what book Ned found in the cave?
By the way, there's a missing entry in the diary, number 1, but it will be for later.
Well, that's all. Thank you for reading.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone