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Chapter 575
🕑 Added 2025-01-29 17:41:17 +0000 UTCNot only would he have to empty his coffers to provide grain and military supplies, but he’d also be thrown to the front lines as cannon fodder?
This was...
This was outright bullying!
Roose Bolton nearly slammed the table in fury. The pale, expressionless face that rarely betrayed emotion now showed a faint flush—he was livid. Had his weapons not been confiscated by the Queen’s Guard before entering the hall, and had his iron discipline not repeatedly reminded him to remain calm, he might very well have drawn his sword and hacked Aegor down on the spot.
It took several deep breaths to regain his composure. When he spoke again, his tone was as cold and measured as ever.
"A clever move! I must thank you for your guidance, Lord Commander. But there is still one pressing question—if I offer up my grain and arms, and if I volunteer for the vanguard, it will indeed improve Her Grace’s opinion of House Bolton. But once the war is over, once the armies disband and return north, how exactly do you expect the weakened Dreadfort to defend itself from the inevitable Stark retaliation?"
Since Aegor had no qualms about making outrageous demands, Roose saw no need for pleasantries. He had long since abandoned any ambitions for ruling the North, but the survival of House Bolton was non-negotiable. If he couldn’t extract a clear answer from Aegor tonight, he would have no choice but to storm into the queen’s chambers himself and demand an explanation.
"Lord Bolton, no need for haste."
Aegor smiled, a placating but insincere gesture, knowing full well that his intimidation had already taken effect.
He had always believed that to subdue someone—especially someone as ruthless as Roose Bolton—it was not enough to wield the stick; one had to make sure the victim saw the stick, smelled the blood crusted on its surface, and recognized the strands of flesh and hair still clinging to it. Only when fear was firmly established could rewards be given.
Otherwise, kindness was nothing more than throwing meat to a hound that might one day bite back.
Roose Bolton was no subject of his, no subordinate who could be ordered around at will. Aegor could not openly threaten him, nor scold him outright. Instead, he merely brandished the stick, reminding Roose that he had once tried to manipulate him—and that Aegor was now in a position to return the favor.
But even cornered beasts could lash out. Aegor had no intention of pushing the old flayer too far. Now that the stick had been waved, it was time for the carrot.
"Let me be clear from the start: as long as I draw breath, House Stark’s position as Wardens of the North will not be shaken." The amusement in Aegor’s voice vanished as he grew serious. "However, ensuring their title remains does not mean leaving their domain untouched. I won’t keep you in suspense, Lord Bolton—once Her Grace has secured the Seven Kingdoms, she will need a force to keep House Stark in check. The Crown cannot allow any single power in the North to grow too dominant, lest they use the Neck and Moat Cailin to establish an independent kingdom in all but name."
Aegor met Roose Bolton’s gaze directly.
"You fear Robb Stark’s vengeance because House Bolton is sworn to Winterfell. They have the authority to suppress you, to subjugate you, to destroy you. But if I were to advise the queen—to free the Dreadfort from Stark rule and make it a direct vassal of the Crown—then would that concern not disappear entirely?"
It was a tempting proposal.
But was it realistic?
Roose Bolton shook his head dismissively. "The Dreadfort is a thousand leagues from King’s Landing. On what grounds could it be separated from the North? Even if the queen were to force the issue, what would stop the Starks from simply marching on my lands, securing the Neck, and crushing me with the full might of the North? Her Grace might ride a dragon to intervene now, but what happens when dragonslayers become commonplace? What happens in a hundred years when circumstances change? And more importantly—I did not take this risk to merely trade Stark rule for Targaryen rule. I expect compensation worthy of the dangers I’ve endured."
His demands boiled down to three key points:A legitimate justification for separating from the North.The Dreadfort alone could not stand against a united North.His support must yield rewards equivalent to the risk.
The second and third points were practically the same—Roose Bolton wanted land, soldiers, and power.
Fair enough.
"A naval stronghold."
Roose frowned, puzzled by the response.
"Westeros is surrounded by water, cut off from Essos by the Narrow Sea, with a coastline that stretches thousands of miles," Aegor explained. "Once Her Grace secures the Seven Kingdoms, she will need at least seven naval fleets: three on the east coast, three on the west, and one in the south. Two of the eastern fleets are easy enough to establish—the Stormlands’ navy and the Dragonstone fleet can be reorganized. But north of the Vale, the Crown has no navy. No ports, no ships, nothing."
Technically, there was a navy in White Harbor and ports in the Gift, but White Harbor was loyal to House Stark, and the Gift’s fleet was already pledged to the Watch. Since Aegor was specifically designing a system to keep the North divided, he wasn’t about to let another Stark-controlled force dominate the east.
This wasn’t just an excuse to win over Roose Bolton—Aegor genuinely believed in building a stronger navy. Westeros, like an enlarged, alternate-history Britain, needed to become a maritime power to expand beyond its current limitations. But there was no point in explaining this to a Northman; he simply had to state the result.
"The queen will create the Northern Fleet and use it as the justification to remove the Dreadfort from Stark rule. The fleet’s base will be established on the Dreadfort’s eastern coastline—I’ve already chosen the site, a natural harbor between the Last River and the Weeping Water. Your men will serve as sailors, defending against smugglers and foreign threats at sea. And when they return to land, they will not be mere guards—they will be the sword hanging over House Stark’s head, ensuring they never entertain rebellious thoughts. Two problems solved with one stroke, don’t you think?"
Roose Bolton, a man not easily deceived, could tell at a glance whether someone was bluffing. Aegor’s proposal, however, was thoroughly thought out—clearly not a last-minute fabrication.
His heart stirred.
But he forced himself to remain calm. "And how do you expect the Dreadfort to fund a fleet? Or protect this so-called naval base?"
"Patience, Lord Bolton." Aegor dipped his finger in wine and began sketching a crude map on the table. "The only major holdings bordering the Dreadfort are Winterfell, Last Hearth, Karhold, and the Rills. Of these, House Umber has been eradicated, their lands currently occupied by my forces. House Ryswell’s heir died in battle, and the next lord must be confirmed by the queen’s decree. As for House Karstark—well, they made their choice when they rebelled against Her Grace."
Roose’s pupils dilated slightly.
He knew exactly what Aegor was suggesting.
Any Northern strategist could see it—the Dreadfort was deliberately placed in the center of a box formed by four Stark-aligned houses. This had been House Stark’s grand strategy for a thousand years, ever since the Red Kings of the Dreadfort had been broken.
But now, Aegor was offering him a way to break that noose.
And that was an offer Roose Bolton could not ignore.
