Chapter 89: A Plot to Seize Hornwood?
"Then open your damn eyes and take a good look—do we look like the old and weak to you?" Ser William roared, kicking the prisoner several more times in fury.
Sol cried out in pain, glancing desperately around at the soldiers. Every one of them was well-armed and fully armored—clearly elite troops. His voice trembled as he begged, "Mercy, my lord! I'm telling the truth! That's exactly what they told us. Otherwise, how could we have been stupid enough to attack a castle guarded by a thousand men?"
His tone turned bitter with rage. "Those bastards lied to us! By the Seven, may they all rot in the deepest hells!"
Saelen gestured, and the soldiers behind him brought the two corpses forward, dropping them in front of Sol.
"Did your group do this?" Saelen asked coldly.
At the sight, several soldiers couldn't hold back and retched. Even Ser William's expression shifted in shock.
"Flaying…" he muttered. "I'd only ever heard rumors about it before. Never thought I'd see it with my own eyes."
Sol's face turned deathly pale.
"My lord, that was done by those leaders, not us!" he cried. "We may be bandits, but if villagers cooperate, we only take their valuables and women. Even when we kill, it's a quick throat cut or beheading. We'd never waste time doing something this cruel."
He stared at the mutilated bodies, his voice dropping to a horrified whisper.
"They're monsters… they enjoy tormenting people."
Then, as if remembering something, Sol suddenly straightened, desperation flashing in his eyes.
"My lord, I can give you more information—important information. I only ask for mercy in return."
"Speak," Saelen said.
"They told us that after looting Castle Edd, they would take us to Hornwood. We were to capture the Lady and demand a massive ransom from House Hornwood and House Manderly of White Harbor."
"Ridiculous!" Jon cut in sharply. "Even if Lord Hornwood and his heir took their best troops north, it's still a noble castle. You think a group of bandits could take it?"
"They never planned to attack the castle," Sol replied hurriedly. "The leader said he would lure the lady out himself, then have us ambush her along the way."
"He promised we'd get all the ransom. Those calling themselves 'Wolfslayers' wouldn't take a single coin—they only wanted us to help them with one more thing."
"What thing?" Saelen asked, his gaze sharpening.
"They planned to lure Lord Hornwood and his heir into a trap and kill them. Then they would force the Lady into marriage. Once she bore a child… they'd get rid of her too, and take control of Hornwood lands."
"Lady Donella…" Jon's face darkened with fury. "Those animals dare plot to seize Hornwood? This is a direct violation of Northern law and honor!"
He took a step forward, his voice rising.
"Do they think House Stark is powerless? Winterfell would raise thousands of soldiers to hunt them down. House Manderly would join as well—Lady Donella is kin to Lord Wyman. Even if they fled the North, the Hand of the King, Lord Eddard, would have them hunted across all Seven Kingdoms!"
"And they think they can inherit Hornwood lands? Pure madness!"
The surrounding men murmured in disbelief. Bandits daring to scheme like this—it was beyond reckless.
Sol, however, spoke weakly, as if clinging to the last scraps of truth.
"The leader said House Stark would be too busy to deal with them… that they wouldn't have time. He also promised to arrange ships to take us across the Narrow Sea once it was done."
Even as he spoke, Sol seemed to realize how absurd it all sounded. They had been blinded by greed, chasing wealth they would never live to spend.
Jon's expression grew grim. "Did he say why House Stark would be too busy?"
"No… my lord. Maybe he had other plans. I don't know."
A shadow fell over Jon's face. Something about this felt wrong—like a storm gathering over Winterfell.
Saelen, meanwhile, felt a growing certainty.
Ramsay Snow.
There was no doubt in his mind now. Only someone as cruel and cunning as Ramsay would orchestrate something like this—using bandits as expendable pawns, staying hidden in the shadows, even ordering raids on his own lands to avoid suspicion. If things failed, he could simply discard the bandits as scapegoats.
And since none of them knew his true identity, no one would ever trace it back to him.
In the original timeline, Ramsay only began acting boldly after Eddard's death, when Robb marched south and the War of the Five Kings began. But now… things were shifting earlier, likely due to Saelen's own influence.
Still, Saelen frowned. Eddard and King Robert were both alive. House Stark stood at the height of its power. Even House Bolton wouldn't openly challenge them at such a time.
But Ramsay… Ramsay was different. A madman with no limits.
Saelen looked back at the prisoner.
"Do you know where they are now?"
Sol nodded quickly. "My lord, I know of a temporary camp nearby. It's about half a day's ride. If we leave now… we might still catch them."
Sol hurriedly pointed toward the riverbank beyond the forest. "My lord, over there. The water level has dropped, and the current is slower now—we can ford it on horseback. Then it's about half a day's ride straight ahead. There's a hidden valley there, perfect for hiding."
"They're most likely there. If we move quickly, we can catch them."
Saelen studied him for a moment, then nodded. "You'll lead the way. If we capture them, I'll plead for your life and have you sent to the Wall to join the Night's Watch."
Sol's face lit up with desperate relief. "Thank you, my lord! I'll do everything I can!"
He scrambled to his feet and limped toward the river, eager to prove himself. But Saelen frowned as he watched the man's slow pace. At this rate, the bandits would be long gone before they arrived.
"Ser William," he called, "give him a horse. Let him ride ahead and guide us."
"Yes, my lord."
William quickly understood and had a horse brought over. Sol mounted it awkwardly, gratitude written all over his face.
"Thank you, my lord… thank you."
Saelen's gaze hardened. "You have one chance. Lead us honestly. If you try anything clever, I'll make sure you regret it in ways you can't even imagine."
Sol swallowed hard. "I understand, my lord. If I can live, why would I choose death…"
...
By the time half a day had passed, Saelen and his men reached the outskirts of a mountain valley.
The terrain was rugged, surrounded by steep cliffs and dense forest—an ideal hiding place.
Saelen sent his hawks to scout the area. Sure enough, there were around a hundred men hiding inside the valley.
He crouched down, picked up a stick, and drew a rough oval on the ground.
"The western and northern sides are sheer cliffs," he said, marking them with crosses. "Natural barriers. No one's getting in or out there, so we can ignore them."
"We could just block the remaining exits and starve them out in a few days without losing a single man."
Jon and Ser William exchanged a glance, both frowning.
"That could take time," Jon said. "If they've stockpiled food and water, it might take even longer."
"Exactly," Saelen replied, shaking his head. "We don't have that kind of time. We need to finish this quickly and return."
He tapped the southern edge of the drawing.
"There's a narrow pass here. Ser William, take forty cavalry and twenty archers and set up an ambush."
Then he pointed east.
"I'll take the rest and circle around to this slope. It's steep, but we can climb into the valley from there."
"We strike from inside. Once they panic, they'll try to escape through your position."
His voice turned cold.
"You are to block them completely. I don't care if we end up with a pile of corpses—but not a single one is to escape. Understood?"
"Yes, my lord," William answered solemnly.
Saelen gave a brief nod, then turned and led Jon and the others eastward, moving silently through the forest. Meanwhile, William and his men rode south to seal the valley's exit.