Chapter 461

After a moment of silence to digest Roose Bolton's words, the room erupted into a new wave of discussion, now involving even more participants than before.

No one shouted accusations of malice or questioned the Old Flayer’s motives anymore. On the matter of "the North being unable to truly remain neutral," at least, he had spoken the truth. Among the attendees, there were no upstart lords lacking foundation—all present were part of an ancient, landholding aristocracy. While the northern nobility, influenced by the region’s rugged culture, was not as adept at political intrigue as their southern counterparts, this was only a matter of degree. Most of them had still received some form of education in leadership and governance.

Roose Bolton was correct. Even if the northerners were less skilled at political maneuvering, failing to grasp a valid argument when presented with one wasn’t honesty—it was stupidity. Even Rickard and Torrhen Karstark, who were known for their obstinacy, found themselves contemplating counterarguments in silence rather than blindly refuting the logic.

Could it really be that the only choice left to them was to align with the Dragon Queen?

Half the room sank into silence, while the other half muttered anxiously and helplessly.

Daenerys Targaryen's dragons and her march north to assist the Night’s Watch had certainly earned her some goodwill. But the scars left by her father, the Mad King, were far from healed. Years ago, Robb Stark’s uncle and grandfather had been cruelly executed by Aerys Targaryen, driving the North to join the rebellion against the crown. The sacrifices and bloodshed of that war were fresh memories for many in the room—more than half of them had fought in that conflict, branded as traitors in the eyes of House Targaryen.

And now, scarcely a decade later, the Mad King’s daughter had returned. Was the North, nearly the same group of people, supposed to throw their weight behind her to reclaim the Iron Throne?

What kind of madness was this?

“Lord Bolton is right: neutrality is a passive and unwise choice. But… who says that if we cannot defeat the dragons, we must fight for them?” After a brief commotion, it was Howland Reed who broke the silence first. “Lord Robb, do you recall your father-in-law, Lord Walder Frey, and his actions during Robert’s Rebellion?”

Walder Frey. The patriarch of House Frey, lord of the Twins, and self-proclaimed Keeper of the Crossing. He was universally regarded as a nouveau riche upstart and a petty, scheming man. During Robert’s Rebellion, Walder’s forces had arrived so late to the Battle of the Trident that the fighting had already concluded. This earned him the derisive nickname "Late Lord Frey."

For years, Northerners had referred to Walder Frey as "the Late Lord" far more often than by his actual name, a deliberate insult meant to emphasize their disdain. This situation only changed after Robb Stark sought to marry Roslin Frey, gradually rehabilitating the nickname to the more respectable “Father-in-Law of the North.”

But here lay the question: lateness was hardly uncommon in wars, so why had Lord Hoster Tully gone out of his way to humiliate Walder Frey, his most powerful vassal, and risk sowing discord within his own realm?

The answer was simple: the Freys’ tardiness was absurd given the circumstances. The Twins were close to the Trident, and their forces could have easily arrived on time. It was clear to anyone with a discerning eye that Walder Frey had delayed his army intentionally. It was as laughable as if House Cerwyn, whose lands bordered Winterfell and the Kingsroad, had failed to arrive at the Long Lake in time to fight the White Walkers.

Howland Reed’s mention of this history wasn’t a random attempt to insult Robb’s in-laws. It was a pointed reminder of how one could navigate a delicate situation. Even though everyone suspected Walder Frey of deliberate tardiness, no one had been able to prove it. Without evidence, even Robert Baratheon, Eddard Stark, and Hoster Tully—the trio leading the rebellion—had no choice but to let the matter lie. Punishing a lord on mere suspicion would have undermined the fragile feudal system of Westeros far more than it was worth.

In the end, Walder Frey emerged from the war unscathed. He had contributed neither blood nor effort but still stood among the victors.

“Walder Frey had no need for new lands or titles,” Howland continued. “For him, holding the Twins and collecting tolls was profitable enough. Who sat the Iron Throne didn’t matter to him. Is this not similar to our current situation in the North? Yet even he, with no pressing reason to fight, dared not declare neutrality and remain in his castle. He knew that staying silent was to risk being treated as a loser. Perhaps we should…”

“Perhaps we should imitate Walder Frey, earn ourselves the nickname ‘Late Dukes,’ and complete the ‘House of Tardiness’ ensemble?” Wyman Manderly cut in nervously, turning to Robb Stark. “My lord, no offense, but the North is no upstart family! We have our pride! If it’s a choice between disgrace or war with the dragons, I’d rather die with my head held high!”

This sentiment was widely shared. Even the previously silent nobles voiced their agreement.

“Lord Wyman, patience,” Howland replied without anger. “I wasn’t suggesting that Lord Robb deliberately delay his troops. But we could tell the Mad King’s daughter that we are willing to support her out of gratitude for her aid. We’d simply add that the North has suffered heavy losses and needs time to recover. Judging by reports and Jon Snow’s account, the young queen is an impatient woman. She won’t wait for us to rebuild. When she inevitably marches south to attack King’s Landing, we can reach out to Stannis Baratheon, explaining that we only allowed her passage under threat of dragonfire. We could assure him that as long as he holds out, the North will strike her army from the rear.”

The room erupted into chaos. The idea of playing both sides—delaying action and seizing an opportune moment to intervene—was cunning, but it offended the Northerners’ sense of honor.

“Cowardly!” spat one lord. “We’re better off earning the name ‘Late Lords’ than using such underhanded tricks!”

Robb slammed his hand on the table, silencing the room. “The North will never resort to such tactics!” he declared. “Lord Howland, your plan is clever, but a man must have principles. We will not stoop to such dishonorable methods. Do not suggest this again.”

As the room murmured its agreement, Roose Bolton allowed himself a small sigh of relief. He had planned to propose his own strategy after further debate, but Howland Reed’s sudden suggestion had thrown him off guard. Damn that swamp-dweller and his sly cunning—clearly, the Neck was as murky as its people. Luckily, Robb and the others had rejected such underhandedness. Otherwise, Bolton’s carefully laid plans might have fallen apart.

With the room under control again, Roose cleared his throat and stepped forward. “My lords, the situation is not as complicated as it seems. While I do not support outright neutrality or declaring war on the Dragon Queen, neither do I believe we must join her cause. There is another way—through strategy.”