Chapter 12. Rising Fame

Outside Winterfell, at the Winter Market, in the Smokewood Tavern.

The Smokewood Tavern was the largest tavern in the Winter Market. Besides offering drinks and food, it also provided lodging and entertainment services.

Of course, certain people would also exchange information and seek out various news here, or conduct some private business transactions.

La-la! Dee-da-da!

At this moment, inside the Smokewood Tavern, a carefree bard was singing and playing a lively Westerosi classic, "The Bear and the Maiden Fair."

Winterfell's smallfolk with some spare money, traveling merchants hoping to make a fortune, and mercenaries looking for work; people from all walks of life gathered here, drinking and chatting boisterously.

"Did you hear? Young Lord Stark won against many with just a few and killed dozens of Wildlings who fled into the North."

As the food and drink took effect, a chubby man, bleary-eyed with drunkenness, boasted proudly about his news.

"Hic, who… who doesn't know that? Unless you're blind, anyone can see that pile of wildling heads at the crossroads."

A middle-aged man dressed as a merchant sitting at the same table hiccupped and mocked his companion for bringing up such outdated news.

"Then do you know about the direwolf that accompanies him?"

"I saw it the day Young Lord Stark and his men left the city, a direwolf that looked both majestic and terrifying."

"Hmm, the Stark family's sigil just happens to be a direwolf. Do you think there's some hidden secret behind it?"

"Ahem!"

Hearing his drinking companions' discussion, the drunken fat man coughed and then lowered his voice, pretending to be mysterious as he said, "I'll tell you a secret, that direwolf is only a few days old, still a little wolf pup!"

"Impossible, absolutely impossible! I saw with my own eyes that it was an adult direwolf. Fatson, you must be drunk!"

No sooner had Fatson finished speaking than the person who claimed to have seen the direwolf immediately refuted him.

"It's true. The Stark family has six wolf pups in total, and only Young Lord Stark's wolf has grown at an unbelievable speed."

Seeing that everyone agreed with the man's words, Fatson became a little anxious, raising his voice significantly.

"My brother-in-law is a high-ranking officer in the main castle; he told me all of this."

"Humph, no matter what you say, I won't believe it. Seeing it with my own eyes; how could that be false?"

"Exactly, many people have seen that direwolf, it's an adult wolf. Maybe the other pups are its offspring?"

"Yes! Nobody would believe it could grow from a pup to an adult wolf in just a few days."

"Ugh! If you don't believe me, then fine. I don't care."

Seeing everyone mocking him and refusing to believe him, Fatson lowered his head in dejection and began to drink alone in silence.

"However, I heard that Lord Stark has already designated Young Lord Robb as his successor."

"I've heard that too. Some say that the young lord is blessed by the old gods, a 'Young Wolf' who possesses both wisdom and valor."

"Exactly, he pursued the fleeing soldiers of House Bolton through the night, winning against many while suffering zero casualties, defeating dozens of fierce Wildlings. He truly deserves the title of 'Young Wolf.'"

"And that group he formed, the 'Wolfguards,' each one is brave and skilled, able to take on ten foes."

"Right! I heard…"

Although Fatson did not speak further, his topic completely ignited discussions in the Smokewood Tavern, and everyone began to share the rumors they had heard.

The North had enjoyed a long period of peace, and any battle involving more than ten people was often talked about repeatedly, let alone battles with hundreds involved.

It was known that full-time elite warriors were rare, with even small noble families maintaining at most a hundred men; the rest were half-farmers, half-soldiers.

Thus, Robb's recent deeds were being discussed and spread among the smallfolk near Winterfell.

***

Creak!

The tavern door swung open, and a slender young man with dark brown hair, fair skin, and a handsome face entered. He had his hand resting on the hilt of a longsword at his waist, wearing leather armor emblazoned with the sigil of a direwolf, accompanied by several similarly dressed young soldiers.

"It's Lord Theon! One of the captains of the Wolfguards, Lord Eddard's foster son, and Lord Robb's aide."

"Wow, he looks impressive."

"I want to join the Wolfguards too. Do they hire mercenaries?"

Theon listened to the not-so-quiet chatter in the tavern. He couldn't help but stop and listen, a slight smile appearing on his face, his vanity greatly satisfied.

Bang!

Seeing him standing still, a member of his team lightly punched him on the shoulder from behind.

Theon immediately snapped back to reality, recalling his mission, and his gaze began to dart around in search of a target.

Suddenly, his eyes lit up as he quickly led his team to Fatson, who was drinking alone.

"You must be Fatson, right? Lord Robb has summoned you!"

"Hic! Lord Robb wants to see me?"

Fatson, who was already somewhat drunk, looked up at Theon, fully armed. The thought of turning his brother-in-law's secret into gossip suddenly sobered him up.

"Help our drunk friend here."

Theon turned to nod at his team member, who stepped forward and forced Fatson to his feet, dragging him out of the tavern.

Clatter!

Fatson certainly didn't want to go. In his struggle, he knocked over the wine cups and plates on the table, sending them crashing to the floor.

The surrounding patrons wanted to avoid trouble and quickly retreated to a safe distance to watch the commotion.

Thud!

Theon frowned and punched the struggling Fatson, knocking him out. His teammates then dragged him out of the tavern.

Scanning the quiet tavern, Theon pulled out a small pouch from his pocket and tossed it to a young waitress wearing a servant's apron. He gave her a playful slap on the backside and announced loudly, "This round of drinks is on Young Lord Stark!"

"Hooray! Long live the Young Wolf!"

"Generous Lord Robb!"

"Lucy, bring me a cup of golden wine from the Arbor!"

"Sorry, we don't have that."

"Oh, then bring me a mug of the finest ale!"

After Theon left the Smokewood Tavern, the bard inside continued to play music, interwoven with various chaotic sounds of laughter and conversation.

It seemed everyone in the tavern had forgotten about Fatson, returning to their feasting and revelry.

Of course, some people hidden in the crowd didn't forget and quietly slipped out of the tavern.

***

"So, my stablemaster is a spy for another house?"

In the study of Winterfell, Eddard looked into his son's eyes, his right index and middle fingers pressed together as he rubbed his right temple, frowning as he spoke.

"Yes, Father. Although I don't know which house he belongs to, he has indeed been leaking our every move."

After confirming with a nod, Robb continued, "Father, I want to establish my own intelligence network. Right now, all our information comes from outsiders, and we can't obtain real and effective information in a timely manner."

"Where is the stablemaster now?"

Eddard didn't respond to Robb's suggestion but continued to ask.

"He's dead; he didn't survive the interrogation."

"You were a bit reckless this time, Robb.

Although I know he wasn't a man of ours, did you ever consider that he might have been a spy for the Crown?"

"Father, our family has long been loyal guardians of the North. Should we hesitate to eliminate an unknown spy just because he might be working for the Crown?

If the Crown decides to massacre our family, should we simply accept our deaths without resistance?"

Smack!

Upon hearing Robb's words, Eddard's face turned angry as he slammed his hand on the table and reprimanded him, "Do not let me hear such talk again. The Stark family has pledged loyalty to the Crown, and we must adhere to that oath.

Honoring commitments and upholding oaths is the honor our family has earned over the past thousand years.

Stop bringing up the establishment of any intelligence networks. The North is peaceful and stable; we do not need such things. Now, you may leave!"

"Yes, my Lord!"

Robb clenched his teeth in frustration; Ned's response truly disappointed him.

However, he concealed his emotions and, after bowing, walked toward the door.

As Robb opened the door, he suddenly remembered something and turned back to Eddard, saying, "By the way, Father.

According to the female wildling I captured, they were forced into a desperate situation in the Bolton territory.

But the siege leading toward our family's direction inexplicably vanished, so they seized the opportunity to escape here."

"Father, perhaps… the North is not as peaceful and stable as you think."