We have to empty our coffers for food and military supplies, and also rush to the front lines as cannon fodder? This is...
...too much of a bully!
Roose Bolton nearly slammed the table and stood up. A faint blush appeared on his usually pale, expressionless face. He was about to explode with rage. If his weapon hadn't been confiscated by the Queen's Guard before entering the hall, and if his strong sense of reason hadn't repeatedly reminded him not to act impulsively, he might have drawn a sword and slashed right then and there.
Only after taking several deep breaths to calm himself did he regain his composure and speak again, as though nothing had happened.
"A brilliant plan. Thank you, Lord Commander, for the guidance. But there's still one problem. While my initiative to offer food and military supplies and to volunteer as the vanguard will certainly improve the Queen's view of House Bolton, once the war ends and the army disbands and returns to the North, how is the Dreadfort, its strength greatly diminished, supposed to deal with retaliation from House Stark?"
Since the other side had set such harsh and cruel terms, Bolton no longer bothered with politeness. He no longer dared to hope for the title of Warden of the North, but regarding his family's survival and future, if he couldn't get a clear answer out of Aegor today, he would demand one, even if it meant barging in to confront the Queen after the feast dispersed.
"Lord Bolton, don't be hasty."
Aegor soothed him with a false smile, knowing the warning had taken effect.
He had always believed that to subdue a complex and shameless creature like man, one must rely on the stick and the carrot. The core of that strategy was this: the stick must not be hidden behind your back or left leaning in a corner. It had to be held up high in plain sight. Even if it didn't fall, the other side must see its shape, smell the blood lingering on it, and notice the clumps of hair still stuck to it. Only after fear and awe had taken root could the carrot be presented.
Only then would the favor given not feel like tossing a meat bun to a dog, gone without return.
Bolton was a regional lord. There was no legal superior-subordinate relationship between him and Aegor. Aegor couldn't scold or openly threaten him, so he had to brandish the stick subtly, making it clear he had not forgotten Bolton's past attempt to use him as a pawn, and now had the means to deal with him.
But even a cornered rabbit bites. Aegor never intended to push the old flayer too far. After displaying the stick, it was time for the carrot.
"Let me be blunt first. As long as I live, the position of Warden of the North will not be taken from House Stark." Aegor dropped his light tone and grew serious. "But the title of Warden remaining with them doesn't mean the territory under its jurisdiction must remain unchanged. I won't make you guess. Once Daenerys pacifies the Seven Kingdoms, she'll need a force to counterbalance House Stark, to maintain power equilibrium in the North, and prevent anyone north of the Neck from growing too strong, relying on the natural defenses of Caitlin Bay to turn themselves into an uncontrollable kingdom of their own."
Aegor looked directly into Bolton's eyes. "Lord Bolton, you fear Robb's retaliation because the Stark are your liege lords. There's a clear superior-subordinate distinction, and he can openly suppress and control you. But what if I propose to Her Grace that House Bolton be administratively separated from the North and made to answer directly to the Crown? Wouldn't that eliminate your concern?"
It was a fine idea, but how could it be so simple?
Bolton shook his head disapprovingly. "The Dreadfort is a thousand miles from King's Landing. There's no basis or justification for it to separate from the North. Even if Her Grace forces it through, what if one day House Stark splits their forces at the Neck and throws all of the North's might against my single domain? Her Grace might be able to ride a dragon to rescue me now, but what happens when dragon-hunting scorpions are widespread, or the world changes a hundred years from now? Besides, I didn't risk everything today to just switch liege lords."
Roose Bolton's questions and demands essentially boiled down to three points: First, he needed a reasonable justification for being separated from the North. Second, the Dreadfort's current strength was nothing compared to the rest of the North. Third, he wanted a reward that matched the risk and effort he had invested.
Well, the second and third points were actually connected.
Very reasonable.
"Fleet anchorage." Aegor spoke a term that puzzled Bolton. "Westeros is surrounded by water on three sides and cut off from Essos. It has an extraordinarily long coastline. Once Daenerys unites the Seven Kingdoms, to strengthen her control over Westeros and promote centralization, she'll need at least seven naval forces: three on the East Coast, three on the West, and one for the South Expedition Sea. Among them, the three on the East Coast—starting from the south—already have the Stormlands fleet and the Dragonstone fleet ready for reorganization. But north of the Vale, since the North historically lacked any naval tradition, there are no ports or ships that can be appropriated."
Technically, there were: White Harbor and Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. But White Harbor was loyal to House Stark, and the Gift already had a fleet stationed at Ice Canyon Port on the western side. Since Aegor planned for the future central government to counterbalance the North, he couldn't place this naval force under either House Stark or the Night's Watch. As for the seven-navy concept, he hadn't made it up just to fool Bolton. Aegor had full confidence in helping Daenerys unite the Seven Kingdoms. As part of his long-term planning, he had already begun sketching out development strategies and policies in his spare time.
In the world of ice and fire, Westeros was essentially a supersized Britain. For long-term growth and expansion, becoming a naval power was the only viable path. That was beyond question, but he couldn't explain it to the locals in detail. So he skipped the reasoning and presented only the result.
"Her Grace will eventually use the establishment of the East Coast Northern Fleet as a justification to separate House Bolton from the North and make it a direct royal vassal. The fleet's anchorage will be built along the coastline currently under the Dreadfort's control. I've even selected the location—a sheltered bay between the mouths of the White Knife and the Weeping Water. From there, your soldiers can set out by sea to strike at smugglers and defend against attacks from the ocean. When they disembark and join the land army, they become a sword hanging over the head of the Warden of the North, discouraging any rebellious thoughts from that uncrowned king beyond the Neck. Wouldn't that be killing two birds with one stone?"
Bolton was old and shrewd. He could tell a bluff from the real thing. Aegor's plan was comprehensive and clearly not made up on the spot. His heart stirred. He immediately pressed further. "But how could the Dreadfort afford to maintain a fleet? And how would it defend the port?"
"Slow down, Lord Bolton." Aegor waved his hand, signaling for calm, and dipped a finger into the wine to draw a rough map on the tabletop. "The lands bordering the Dreadfort, aside from Winterfell's domain, are three: Last Hearth of the Umber, Karhold of the Karstark, and Hornwood of House Hornwood. Among these, the Umbers are extinct, and their land is temporarily managed by my Gift Army. The heir of House Hornwood died in battle against the Westerlands, and the matter of succession remains unresolved. Someone might be legitimized from among the bastards, but no matter who it is, the Queen's approval is required. As for the Karstarks, the strongest of the three, they courted death and became rebels by opposing Her Grace. Don't you have any thoughts about this?"
Bolton's heart skipped a beat. His pupils even dilated for a moment.
How could he not?
Anyone who opens a map of the North and looks at House Bolton's territory would notice that the Dreadfort sits nearly at the center of a quadrangle formed by the four castles of Winterfell, Last Hearth, Karhold, and Hornwood. Coincidence? Nonsense. It was the result of grand strategic planning. A placement made by a former Winter King of House Stark after defeating the Red King of House Bolton, precisely to suppress any future resurgence. The first three strongholds had long been established, but the Karstarks—more properly "Starks of Karhold"—were created a thousand years ago after the last Bolton rebellion. The then Lord of Winterfell gave land and title to his youngest son, Karlon Stark, sending him northeast to plant a castle in the Bolton's backyard. That was the final link in the chain wrapped around the Dreadfort's neck.
For generations, every Bolton child grew up staring at this map. Before they learned to read, they learned the hopeless reality of being surrounded—front, back, left, and right. That was the source of their caution, gloom, and hatred. How could Roose Bolton not have thoughts on this?
Could it be that Aegor intended to offer these three territories as reward?
Even if all three were granted, House Bolton's domain would still be only a third of House Stark's. They would remain on the defensive. But strategically, gaining those lands would free them from the strangulation net. The Dreadfort could then rise and face Winterfell as equals. The geopolitical shift alone was more valuable than the frozen land itself.
Bolton felt his entire face and neck flush, not from rage this time, but excitement. The benefits Aegor hinted at far exceeded the rewards he expected when he took the gamble and came to speak.
But having lived so many years, the old flayer knew better than to get ahead of himself. He replied cautiously. "Does the Lord Commander mean that the Queen will convert all four territories into royal domains to support the Northern Fleet?"
"Her Grace doesn't have the time or energy to manage so many direct domains." Aegor scoffed. "In the future, there will be only three powers north of the Neck: House Stark's North, the Night's Watch's Gift, and the Queen's Northern Fleet domain. Lord Bolton, you will be the Queen's Northern Fleet Commander. Since the Karstarks turned traitor, Her Grace will certainly punish them. As long as the Dreadfort army gives its utmost in the Southern campaign, helping Her Grace retake King's Landing and reclaim the Iron Throne, even if it's only for that effort, I guarantee you Karhold."
"As for Last Hearth and Hornwood..."
Aegor picked up the bowl before him, sipped the hot broth to moisten his throat, then looked at Roose Bolton with a smile and completed the picture of his grand offer.
"Well, you'll have to rely on your wisdom and military skill, my lord, to earn the rest through merit."
(To be continued.)
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