Hearing this, Earl Medger suddenly grew agitated, his face once again flushed red with anger.
"There were at least fifty raiders tonight!
"In the current North, there are only a handful of factions capable of gathering that many raiders at once!
"Wildlings from beyond the Wall!
"Ironborn from the Iron Islands!
"Pirates from the Three Sisters!
"The mountain clans!
"Tell me, which of these groups do you think it is?"
Ser Kyle thought it over for a good while before answering.
"Judging by how they dressed, they weren't wildlings, and they weren't mountain clansmen either!
"Some of them had skin that looked like they were from the coastal regions.
"But others had the exact characteristics of regular Northern cavalry! I can't tell them apart!"
Earl Medger reined in his anger and slowly offered his guess.
"Some of them are probably Ironborn! Or maybe pirates from the Three Sisters!
"As for the ones dressed like regular cavalry... I'd wager they belong to House Bolton!"
Hearing this, Ser Kyle asked furiously.
"How dare those disgusting flayers?"
For a noble to raid their fellow Northmen was a direct challenge to the authority of House Stark—an act bordering on outright rebellion.
Under such circumstances, House Stark had the right to summon the offending noble lord to Winterfell to stand trial. Refusal would be deemed an act of treason.
At that point, House Stark would be fully within their rights to call their banners and lay siege to the traitor's lands.
Earl Medger let out a cold laugh.
"Those disgusting flayers have pulled no shortage of shady stunts in the dark, and they've betrayed House Stark more than a few times!
"Every Northman knows exactly what their ambitions are!
"Lord Stark has always known full well, but he's lacked both the evidence and the right opportunity."
House Bolton was ruthless and cruel, but they were also exceptionally powerful.
They had warred with House Stark for thousands of years, even declaring themselves kings on several occasions. They were House Stark's most stubborn rivals in the entire North.
The Bolton lands were among the most densely populated and fertile regions in the North, capable of raising thousands of men.
Furthermore, their seat—the Dreadfort—was built on high rocky ground, surrounded by water on three sides, with impenetrable walls.
In the minds of the Northmen, two castles would never fall:
Winterfell and the Dreadfort.
Recalling the cruelty and might of House Bolton, Earl Medger found it hard to calm his nerves.
It was a long time before he finally spoke again.
"That is exactly why we need hard proof—preferably something that directly ties this to House Bolton!
"Otherwise, those flayers will just deny it!
"Secondly, look for any evidence pointing to other houses pulling the strings, especially those from the Iron Islands or the Three Sisters!
"Without direct, linking evidence...
"Even Lord Stark can't publicly dish out any severe punishment!"
Ser Kyle immediately replied.
"Yes, Lord Earl. I will not overlook a single detail!"
————
Outside the market.
Don Quixote looked around at the three freelance knights gathered before him and said flatly.
"I've got some good news. Earl Medger isn't going to hold it against us that we failed to spot those raiders in advance."
Hearing this, Tom, who had nearly lost his life just moments ago, immediately cursed in anger.
"Bullshit! Those damn raiders came out of nowhere! How the hell were we supposed to spot them?"
Warren let out a sigh of relief but quickly asked.
"Captain, is there bad news?"
Don Quixote nodded, his tone remaining just as flat.
"Earl Medger wants us out of his lands!"
Tom's temper flared right back up, and he cursed under his breath.
"What a piece of shit! We risk our damn necks protecting his market and saving his people!
"And he thinks he's doing us a favor by 'not holding it against us' right before he kicks us to the curb!"
Shane hesitated for a moment but eventually asked the question he cared about most.
"What about our pay for this month? Are we still getting it?"
After asking, he stared intently at Don Quixote, terrified of hearing an answer he wouldn't like.
Don Quixote shook his head and said.
"We'll see tomorrow. Earl Medger is absolutely furious right now; he couldn't care less about us.
"If no one from Castle Cerwyn comes looking for us tomorrow, it means we're not seeing a single copper for the last few weeks of work!"
"Motherfucker!" Tom swore loudly, the veins bulging on the hand gripping his reins.
"I almost lost my damn life tonight!
"And he's going to stiff me on my hazard pay?! Son of a bitch! What an absolute son of a bitch!"
Warren spoke up in a deep voice.
"Earl Cerwyn's got a decent reputation around these parts. I doubt he'd be that heartless!"
"Who the hell knows!" Shane said, thoroughly depressed.
"With a disaster this big tonight, we're lucky he didn't just take it out on us!
"If I'd known it would turn out like this, I'd have been better off hiding or taking my sweet time showing up!"
Don Quixote looked at the three of them—one depressed, one furious, one complaining—and suddenly asked.
"What are your plans now?"
Tom let out a cold snort.
"I'm heading back South! The North is no place for freelance knights like us to make a living!
"Every single one of these damn Northern lords completely distrusts us!
"They treat us like we're inherently disloyal!
"I am so goddamn sick of this prejudice!
"The competition might be fierce down South, but at least I'd have some standing there!"
At this point, Tom looked at Don Quixote with eager anticipation.
"Captain, why don't you come South with me?
"With your skills, it's only a matter of time before you make a name for yourself. You might even get knighted by some high lord.
"Besides, the South is always throwing tourneys, and the prize pools are massive!
"Win just one, and you're walking away with dozens, maybe hundreds of Gold Dragons!"
Hearing this, Shane perked up in pleasant surprise.
"You can win dozens or hundreds of Gold Dragons just from one tourney?!"
Tom puffed out his chest proudly.
"Damn right! The South doesn't just write off knights like us the way the North does!
"Forget dozens or hundreds—you could even win thousands or tens of thousands of Gold Dragons!
"The Tourney at Harrenhal, the Tourney at Lannisport, the Ashford Tourney... every single one of those famous tourneys had prize pools in the tens of thousands!"
He paused, glancing at the excited and visibly hyped expression on Shane's face, and chuckled.
"The Captain's got a real shot, but don't even think about it, Shane! With your skills, you'd get knocked out in the very first round.
"If you want to see any of that prize money, you've got to at least make it to the top ranks of the tourney!"
Shane frowned, his depression immediately returning.
Warren frowned as well and spoke up.
"The South is a long way off, and I don't want to leave my homeland.
"Besides, do the noble lords down South really treat unsworn, un-knighted hedge knights like us any better than the Northern lords do?"
Don Quixote listened quietly, not immediately offering a reply.
Tom huddled into himself, grumbling and cursing.
"Well, at least the South is covered in flowers, and the food and wine are way cheaper.
"What does this godforsaken North have? Swamps, forests, and a whole lot of nothing!
"If this damn weather keeps getting colder, I'm terrified I'm going to freeze to death in my sleep one day!"
Tom looked at him with eager anticipation once again.
"Captain, come down South with me!
"Not only is there every kind of wine you can imagine, but beautiful girls are everywhere!
"And once summer hits, hehe, all that modesty goes right out the window!
"You'll see them swimming buck naked in the clean, clear rivers—it's a sight you can catch just about anywhere!"