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In the stands, Lord Rickard and Greatjon had barely risen to their feet at the sound of their names being called when they sat back down again the moment Roose Bolton demanded a trial by combat.
As soon as they heard those words, everyone began murmuring among themselves. Some had already started questioning the fairness of the trial.
Trial by combat was a method used to decide disputes and settle controversies. It could be demanded before the trial began or at any point during the trial.
So long as it was a fair fight, recognized as valid, whichever side survived would be judged the winner.
Of course, a request for trial by combat could be refused. But in Westeros, where faith in the gods and admiration for heroism ran so deep, even lords and members of the royal family rarely stood in the way of such a duel.
Looking at Roose, with his average build, slight musculature, and pale, worn face, Robb nodded before speaking:
"I accept your request. Lord Roose, find someone here willing to fight for you as your champion. Otherwise, you will have to fight in person."
"Lord Robb, grant me this chance. Let me fight for you!"
The moment Robb finished speaking, Dacey, standing at his side, was the first to step forward and ask in a loud voice.
"Lord Robb, I'm willing to tear his head off for you. Choose me!"
Smalljon, clad in his full suit of plate armor, reacted a moment too late. Only after Dacey spoke did he raise his voice, muffled by his helm. Robb still did not understand why he insisted on wearing that armor all the time, but chose not to question it.
Soon after, Owen and Edd reacted as well and began vying for the chance to fight in his stead.
Robb shook his head, raised a hand to silence them, and then said slowly:
"I thank all of you for being willing to risk your lives for me. But my father always taught me one thing: 'The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword.'"
Seeing that he had invoked one of Lord Eddard's teachings, Dacey and the others understood there was no point in insisting further. So they fell silent and withdrew to their places.
When he heard that Robb would fight personally, Roose raised his chained hands, and a faint smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
Edd cast a glance at Robb. When he saw him nod, he pulled out the key he carried and unlocked Roose's shackles.
Robb drew the sword from Theon's belt and tossed it at Roose's feet.
Then he tore the black cloak from his shoulders, drew his own sword from his waist, and said to him:
"It seems no one here is willing to fight for you. Then come, Lord Roose.
Back outside the Dreadfort, I sent a messenger to tell you that I myself would bring your life to an end.
Now the time has come."
Roose picked up the sword from the ground, rose to his feet, and moved his arms and legs, still stiff from the long time he had spent in chains.
Edd and Torrhen silently stepped back, while Dacey and the others spread out around them in a quiet ring of containment.
In a trial by combat, those involved could demand time to put on armor before the duel began.
But Robb and Roose, the two enemies about to fight to the death, seemed to have understood each other's intentions. Without saying a word, both of them went straight into the duel unarmored.
"Let the combat begin!"
Seeing that both men were ready, Theon shouted in a loud voice.
The instant his words rang out, Roose raised the sword in his right hand and charged at Robb.
The moment he stepped into striking distance, he gripped the sword with both hands, raised it high, and brought it down in a brutal slash at him.
Robb did not move his feet a single inch. Calm-faced, he raised his sword in his right hand above his head and blocked the blow with ease.
Veins bulged in Roose's arms as he tried, with all the strength in his body, to force the blade downward.
But Robb met all that force with a single hand.
At the same time, in a tone only the two of them could hear, he murmured to Roose:
"Since you're going to die either way, it's better to die in a trial by combat than under a pile of charges.
That way, people can at least keep wondering whether I forced your conviction. It'll leave a seed of doubt in their hearts.
Of course, it would be even better if you managed to kill me in this fight. Wouldn't it?"
Hearing that, Roose bared his lips in an ugly smile and answered in a low voice:
"Yes. But the same goes for you, doesn't it? Since a trial by combat can't be refused, the best thing is to use it to condemn me completely and silence everyone else.
My body was never strong to begin with, and after being imprisoned so long, I'm utterly exhausted. Against you, the valiant Young Wolf, I'm already dead. Hah... hah..."
Roose spoke while forcing his entire body against the sword, and it soon left him panting. After a brief pause, he continued:
"During the time I was imprisoned, I thought carefully about this war.
At the beginning, though I wanted to stir up disorder in the North and make you lose prestige shortly after taking over Winterfell, weakening House Stark's reputation...
At that time, I never intended to begin a war against the Starks.
But the series of traps you set made it clear that you were the one who wanted to start this war and weaken House Bolton.
And besides, when we first met inside the Dreadfort, I saw it in your eyes. Your hatred for me ran deep. Deep down, you truly wanted to kill me.
Before I die, I want to know why."
"Heh, Lord Roose, you truly are an intelligent man. You saw me very clearly. As for why I want to kill you..."
'Because if I had let things continue as they were, you would have killed me.'
Robb let out a low laugh, but, wary of the eyes of the Three-Eyed Raven hidden in the shadows, he did not reveal the real answer to Roose.
"Not even to a man about to die are you willing to say it? Robb Stark... you truly are a cruel man."
Seeing Robb fall silent at the end, Roose could not help but sigh.
"Then... farewell, Lord Roose."
While the two of them spoke, the force behind Roose's sword had been weakening more and more.
Seeing that he had already said everything he wanted to say, Robb bid him farewell.
Without giving him time to react, he drove his own sword upward with his right hand, knocking aside the blade pressing down above his head.
In the same motion, he drew his arm back and struck with savage force.
Roose gripped his sword with all the strength of both hands, yet he still could not stop the impact from knocking the weapon out of his grasp.
Though he had always known he was no great warrior, he had never imagined that against Robb, he would not have even the slightest chance to strike back.
Tock. Tock. Tock.
The look of astonishment froze forever on his face.
With the second blow, Robb took his head off in one clean strike. Roose's head rolled across the ground, making several dry sounds.
As for the headless body, blood sprayed from the neck artery with a continuous hiss, spattering Robb's face and hair.
To Lord Wyman, who had watched that fight as a spectator, he was left with only one thought:
That trial by combat had ended far too quickly.
If Roose Bolton's head had not been lying there on the ground, he would have thought it had all been some kind of staged act.
From where he sat, all he had seen was Roose charge and strike, the two men lock for a brief instant, and then Robb, with a single hand, knock Roose's sword away before taking off his head with one blow.
"The boy is very strong!"
Lord Rickard, seated beside him, was no layman when it came to swordsmanship, unlike Lord Wyman.
He knew perfectly well what the difference between the two men had been, and so he could not stop that exclamation from escaping him.
Hearing the astonishment in his old friend's voice, and thinking of all the changes in Winterfell, the military review, and everything else, Lord Wyman made a silent decision.
That shipment of Myrish ointment... it would be better to give it as a gift...
'No, that would be too much. Better to charge only what it cost.'
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