Hello my sexy readers....
Sorry for being late.....🙏...
Enjoy.....
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The Old Tannery was alive, it wasn't a ruin anymore; it was a workplace. The heavy scent of the Wolf's Breath curing on the birch racks mingled with the sharp, clean vapor of Winter's Kiss dripping steadily from the copper swan neck.
Jon stood by the door, his grey cloak wrapped tightly around his shoulders as he watched Goran carefully feed coal into the furnace while Tobias inspected a freshly blown glass bottle.
"Every thing is going nicely," Jon murmured to himself.
He had created an economy out of thin air, but an economy was only a means to an end. Gold bought men, and men bought power but there were some threats you couldn't buy off. Some weeds had to be pulled out by the root before they choked the garden.
Domeric Bolton was currently alive, fostering in the Vale and as long as Domeric lived, Roose Bolton had a sane, competent kind-hearted heir. But Jon knew the timeline. Soon, Ramsay Snow would poison his trueborn brother, taking his place and plunging the North into a nightmare of flayed skin and treachery.
If Jon wanted to control the North, he needed the Boltons predictable, naturally with Roose and Ramsay dead and he needed Domeric alive, Roose can wait, which meant the Bastard of the Dreadfort had to die..... Now.
"Duncan," Jon called out, his voice cutting through the hiss of the still.
The giant mercenary looked up from where he was sharpening his warhammer with a whetstone. "Aye, boss?"
"Gather Hake, Goran, and three others who know how to hold a spear and keep their mouths shut," Jon ordered. "Tell Kegg he's in charge of the floor. Nobody enters or leaves this building until we return."
Duncan stood up, his heavy boots thudding against the stone, he didn't ask questions in front of the men, just nodded and started pointing fingers.
Ten minutes later, Jon stood in the small, freezing back room of the Tannery. Duncan and the five selected men stood before him. They were armed with scavenged mail, sturdy axes, and short swords.
They looked like a gang of bandits, which was exactly what Jon wanted. If things went south, no one would trace them back to Winterfell.
"We're leaving town," Jon said flatly. "Pack hardtack and dried beef for a week, we ride light and we ride fast."
Hake shifted nervously. "Where are we going, Lord Snow? Are we robbing a caravan?"
"We aren't robbing anyone, Hake," Jon said, his grey eyes cold. "We're going hunting."
He dismissed the five men to saddle the horses he had purchased from the Winter Town stables. Once they were gone, Duncan lingered in the doorway, his arms crossed.
"You're not telling them the whole truth," Duncan observed, his voice a low rumble. "Where are we actually going, Jon?"
"East," Jon said. "Into Bolton lands, near the Dreadfort."
Duncan's expression tightened. "The Weeping Water, that's a long ride to shoot a deer, boss. Roose Bolton doesn't take kindly to poachers in his woods and he'll flay the skin off our backs and wear it as a cloak, especially a Stark."
"We aren't hunting deer, Duncan and we aren't crossing Roose." Jon stepped closer, lowering his voice. "We're hunting his bastard.....Ramsay Snow."
Duncan frowned, confused. "A lord's bastard? Why? Does he owe you coin?"
"No," Jon said. "But he's a rabid dog, he hunts women, Duncan. Peasant girls, he strips them naked, releases them in the woods, and runs them down with a pack of starved hounds. When he catches them..... his dogs eat them alive, it's enjoyment for him."
Duncan went dead still.
The mercenary had killed men for copper. He had fought in shield walls and burned supply wagons but there was a hard, immovable line in the giant's soul.
Duncan spat a thick glob of saliva onto the floor, the disgust on his scarred face was absolute.
"I'm a killer, Snow," Duncan rasped, his eyes narrowing. "But I don't touch women and I don't abide men who play games with children. You're sure about this?"
"I'm sure," Jon said. "He's a monster and I'm going to put that son of a bitch down."
"Good," Duncan gripped the haft of his hammer. "Let's go kill a bastard."
As Duncan turned to leave, Jon retreated to the darkest corner of the room.
He needed exact coordinates, the North was massive, and wandering aimlessly around the Dreadfort would get them caught.
He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out his precious Smartphone. The screen illuminated his face with a soft, unnatural glow.
He had internet access, but searching standard Westerosi maps wouldn't give him the specific location of the bastards hidden playground, so he needed his dear Chatgpt, and thankful it's already pro mode.
He tapped the screen, opening the AI application.
Prompt: Where exactly does Ramsay Snow hunt his victims near the Dreadfort? Give me the exact geographical location.
The three small dots pulsed on the screen for a second, Jon held his breath.
Response: Based on the lore of A Song of Ice and Fire, Ramsay Snow's hunting grounds are located approximately two miles east of the Dreadfort. The specific area is characterized by:
- A sharp bend in the Weeping Water.
- A slight elevation ridge overlooking the river.
- A dense pine clearing used specifically to release the hounds and track the victims.
Jon smirked, reading the text.
"Got you bitch."
He memorized the location, closed the app, and shoved the phone back into his pocket. It felt like a cheat code, but in the game of thrones, you used every advantage you had.
He walked out of the Tannery and into the biting cold, the sky was overcast, heavy with the promise of fresh snow.
His team was ready, five hard men mounted on rough Northern garrons. Duncan sat atop a massive black destrier, looking like a warlord from the Age of Heroes.
Ghost trotted out of the shadows, his red eyes fixed on Jon, the direwolf didn't need to be told as he smelled the bloodlust in the air.
Jon swung up onto his own horse, settling into the saddle but he didn't wear Stark colors. He wore a simple black cloak over hardened leather.
"Listen to me," Jon addressed the men, his voice carrying over the wind. "From this moment on, you forget my name. I am not a Lord and we are not a household guard. If we are caught, we are ghosts..... tell them we are...wakandans."
He pulled his hood up, casting his face into shadow.
"Let's hunt."
Authors Note:-
Sorry for the lateness guys , lifes a bitch and the story block actually effected me bad, it demotivated me truely.
Anyway had rewrite some chapters as i know a majority didn't like the merchant, business aspect.... So I fast forwarded some chapters for some actions.
The Ramsay hunt arc will be 8-10 chapters.
Hope you all will enjoy it.
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