"This is outright murder! I demand blood for blood!"
Inside the meeting hall of Winterfell, Count Meiji Seven's face was flushed red as he roared at the great and small lords of the North.
"My men were acting in complete self-defense. It was your people who were sneaking around following them. After being discovered, they challenged them to a duel and lost because their skills were inferior. They died, and they deserved it."
Standing opposite the Seven family was a man who looked gentle and refined on the surface, yet anyone could see the cruelty etched deep into his bones—the current lord of the infamous flaying family, House Bolton. Roose Bolton, nicknamed the Old Flayer.
Roose Bolton did not speak loudly. On the contrary, his voice was calm and mild, forcing everyone present to focus intently just to hear him clearly.
Meiji Seven flew into a rage. "Bullshit! What duel? Stabbing someone in the back counts as a duel? That was clearly a sneak attack! Murder!"
"Setting that aside," Roose replied calmly, "at a time like this, when everyone is spying on each other, are you trying to undermine the alliance?"
"Your men murdering someone isn't undermining the alliance?!"
Both sides argued their own case. The other lords remained silent, instead casting meaningful glances toward the young man seated at the head of the table—their nominal leader, the Young Wolf, Robb.
They wanted to see how Robb would handle this matter.
In truth, the root of the issue lay in the order Robb had previously given Meiji Seven to monitor the Old Flayer's subordinates. No one expected that after only a few days of surveillance, they would be discovered and killed. The strength gap between the two sides' men was evident.
Still, this incident provided a perfect opportunity to draw part of the power into his own hands.
Robb shrugged helplessly, then slowly spoke under everyone's gaze. "A life for a life. Blood for blood. This is a rule passed down since ancient times. Count Roose, hand the man over. I will personally cut off his head."
The Old Flayer's expression darkened instantly. His gloomy eyes locked onto Robb.
He had originally thought that Robb—only a dozen or so years old—would be easy to manipulate. Even if the boy had some ability, he would still need time to mature. Yet ever since entering the city, Roose had been monitored and constrained at every turn, with no room to maneuver.
House Bolton was considered powerful even in the North, and they had always been dissatisfied with Stark rule, frequently raising rebellions.
But three hundred years ago, the Stark patriarch had led troops to besiege House Bolton's castle for several months. With their supplies exhausted, the Boltons were forced to surrender.
Now, Eddard Stark's prestige in the North was unmatched, and his close relationship with King Robert left Roose powerless to act, no matter how much he wanted to replace the Starks.
But now Robert was dead, Ned's fate unknown, and House Stark was left with only Robb—a teenage child—as its head. That rekindled a sliver of hope in the Old Flayer's heart. He had already begun secretly contacting forces outside the North, hoping to seize a weakness and strike a fatal blow.
As for why he didn't reach out to forces within the North—because they were all die-hard Stark loyalists. Roose had no doubt that the moment he voiced his plans, Stark armies would appear before him the very next second.
This time, Roose's men were clearly in the wrong. Yet he still wanted to muddle through the matter, to gloss it over—so the northern lords would see the Young Wolf's weakness.
When the head wolf shows fatigue, that is when the pack attacks together.
But what surprised him was Robb's decisiveness. It was not something a fifteen-year-old should have been capable of.
Now that public sentiment and moral ground were completely against him, and he had failed to intimidate the Young Wolf, Roose decided to endure for now.
"As you wish, my lord."
Robb received an answer that left him dissatisfied. In truth, he would have preferred Roose to refuse—so he could give him a reason he couldn't refuse, further boosting his own authority.
He glanced around at the loyal yet unruly lords, then cleared his throat.
"Gentlemen, our goal is to march into King's Landing and rescue my father. You are all lords of the North. I do not wish for today's incident to happen again. If all our energy is spent on internal strife, not only will we fail to take King's Landing—we will all die without burial."
"Therefore, to maintain our army's combat strength and to prevent further chaos like this, I have decided to establish a Military Law Corps."
All the lords frowned slightly. They didn't know what this Military Law Corps would actually do, but the name alone gave them a bad feeling.
"I have already instructed Maester Luwin to draft a set of military orders," Robb continued. "They clearly state what must be done and what must not be done."
This was something the lords understood. Though there had never been written military orders before, each lord had his own rules and restrained his own men, so there was little reaction.
"All units will uniformly adhere to these military orders. You may add your own rules, but you may not remove a single one. Any soldier in the Northern army who violates military law will be punished by the Military Law Corps according to those orders."
The lords erupted into an uproar. In the past, when they went to war, everyone led their own men. If a lord ordered a charge, his troops charged. As for internal discipline, each lord handled it himself.
Now the Young Wolf was taking part of their authority to punish troops, and that made them uncomfortable.
"This has its benefits," someone argued. "Unified rules mean no one can slack off or go easy on their own deserters!"
"No!" another shouted. "Then who's in charge of this Military Law Corps? If you let the Old Flayer do it, I'll be the first to object!"
"What are you arguing about?" someone else snapped. "Do you think the Young Wolf would let that cowardly bastard Roose handle it? Use your brains!"
"I object!" another said loudly. "This is too complicated. Why should my men be managed by someone else?"
Roose Bolton's expression flickered darkly. He knew these people were playing along, just to ensure he would never become the commander of this Military Law Corps.
The hall descended into chaos. Yet Robb, who had proposed the idea, sat unmoved, casually playing with Grey Wind's chin, making the direwolf let out comfortable rumbling sounds.
Only after the noise had died down did Robb shift his attention from Grey Wind back to the assembled lords.
"Finished discussing?" he asked. "I've already chosen the commander of the Military Law Corps. It will be Countess Maege Mormont of Bear Island."
A lord immediately objected. "What? A woman?! Why let a woman—"
Someone beside him clamped a hand over his mouth. "Shh! Are you trying to get beaten to death? That's the Countess of Bear Island!"
Robb smiled and explained to the still-dissatisfied lords. "Those from Bear Island are all formidable warriors. Maege's brother is the current Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. Her nephew was a former Kingsguard. As for herself…"
As he spoke, a middle-aged woman stood up. She looked fifty or sixty years old, with white hair and a face covered in scars. She wore a coat sewn together from wolf pelts and bear hides. Tall and powerfully built, she was more than twice Robb's size and fiercer than most of the men present.
Strangely, her right hand was wrapped in layers of bandages, as if freshly injured.
She radiated authority without anger, slowly sweeping her gaze across the hall. Under that oppressive presence, few lords dared meet her eyes. The lord who had spoken so boldly earlier wished he could sink his head beneath the table.
Maege burst out laughing. "Hahahaha! Looks like some people's balls have shrunk back into their bellies."
She then left her seat and walked to Robb's side, looking down at the child who was two or three sizes smaller than herself. Her mind returned to the scene of their first meeting.
Back then, like many others, Maege had harbored doubts about this child lord and wanted to give him a show of dominance. So when they shook hands, she used a bit more strength.
The result was her right hand wrapped in bandages. According to the maester, the shattered bones would take at least a month before she could hold a sword again.
From that moment on, Maege offered her loyalty without reservation.
She knelt willingly before Robb. "Thank you for your trust. I will act with absolute fairness and spread your justice and equity to every corner of the army."
The others watched as Robb sat calmly before this towering presence, his expression unchanged. He casually placed his hand atop Maege's head, granting her the honor. Their hearts were filled with shock.
When had this Young Wolf tamed such an unruly giant bear?
Robb smiled and said, "Then it's settled. One more thing—if anyone objects, you may take your men and return to your castles right now. But I guarantee that when I return after defeating the Lannisters, I will drag you out of your beds and hang your heads on long spears."
"As for whether I can do it—my enemies will find out."
(End of Chapter)