Game of Thrones: From Lord Elden to Young Wolf

When Sir Blackfish heard what the old knight said, he immediately said to Robb: "This is very dangerous. After entering the castle, we will let him do what he wants. We can lock you up, or kill you and give it to Tywin, it depends on his mood."

Theon Greyjoy also felt it was inappropriate, but he didn't say anything. He just had to follow Robb's instructions for this kind of thing.

Robb felt that it didn't matter in his heart. Most of the time, he fought alone. Let alone the small Luanhe City, even the magnificent royal capital could be destroyed by one man and one sword.

You may not be able to kill all the four thousand guards in Luanhe City, but if you want to get out of Luanhe City, no one can stop you.

Robb nodded to the old knight: "Lead the way."

The old knight's eyes shone with admiration: "Sir, as you command."

On the way into the city, Robb chatted with the old knight: "I haven't asked you your name yet. Do you call Lord Frey your father?"

The old knight replied politely: "Sir, Steveron Frey. I am just an insignificant knight under my father. I have more than twenty brothers. As for whether my father has other illegitimate sons and daughters, I It’s not clear.”

Robb exclaimed: "Lord Frey is really old and strong. With Lord Frey's grandson and great-grandson, I'm afraid we can make up an army. By the way, do you have a son?"

Steveron Frey showed a wry smile: "My grandson was born five years ago."

Robb's face showed a regretful expression: "I heard that you are the eldest son of Earl Frey. It is really rare. There is no heir to the lord who has been over sixty years old."

Steveron Frey's face changed slightly, as if Robb had touched a painful point, and he became taciturn.

Not long after, Robb met Marquis Walder Frey in the drawing room of Luanhe City.

He is ninety years old and looks like a shriveled pink weasel. His head is already bald and covered with age spots. Due to gout, he cannot stand without help. A sixteen-year-old girl, pale and thin, walked in next to his stretcher.

The area around the living room was filled with people from the Frey family, including Frey's sons, grandsons, illegitimate sons and daughters, and some older great-grandchildren, at least fifty of them.

A pear blossom pressed against the crabapple, and a long-lost poem came to Robb's mind.

The old man sat on the lord's throne and looked at Robb with suspicious eyes: "You are Robb Stark. You look much smaller than I thought, huh, a young boy. But you are quite courageous. I I thought someone as noble as you wouldn’t want to see an old man like me.”

"Father," Ser Stevron said reproachfully, "have you forgotten? Lord Robb is here at your invitation."

"Am I asking you? If I'm not dead, you're not Marquis Frey. Do I look like a dead person? I don't need to listen to your lecture."

"Father, is this not the way to treat guests?" said his other younger son.

"Even my illegitimate son has taught me a lesson?" Marquis Walder's face turned gloomy, "You all deserve to die, I can say whatever I want. I have entertained three kings in my life, let alone the queen, you Do you think I need you to teach me how to treat guests? The first time I planted seeds in your mother, she was still shepherding sheep."

His sons blushed at the rebuke and stopped talking.

Robb answered truthfully: "I didn't expect you to be such a bitter old man, otherwise I wouldn't have come to see you."

The old weasel was furious: "What are you talking about! You little brat who hasn't even grown hair yet, do you think this is Winterfell, surrounded by idiots who play lord's house with you? As long as I want, I can always Asking someone to wipe your neck, you..."

Marquis Frey stopped abruptly before he finished his curse, his face turned red, showing a look of fear.

Robb looked at the other party with interest: "Keep talking, why don't you stop talking?"

As he spoke, Robb raised the dagger in his hand. The cold metal came into closer contact with Marquis Frey's neck, and a red blood line appeared on Marquis Frey's neck.

None of the heirs of Marquis Frey saw clearly how Robb appeared next to Marquis Frey. They only felt that their eyes were blurred, and Robb's figure disappeared and then reappeared.

Hound pace, a fighting technique for quickly approaching the enemy.

Lord Frey's sons stood up nervously, then drew their swords and pointed them at Robb, for fear of not irritating Robb.

The old man was so frightened that he ignored the wound on his neck and yelled: "You damn stupid pigs, put down your swords. Can't you see that I am controlled by him?!"

Robb watched their performance with great interest: "Your son and grandchildren seem to be eager for you to die in my hands. It seems that we need to talk in private."

The old weasel yelled at the top of his lungs: "What are you looking at? Why don't you get out of here? You do the same, stinky woman, get out, get out, get out!"

His sons, grandsons, daughters, illegitimate sons, grandsons, and granddaughters filed out of the hall. Robb clearly saw someone hesitant to rush forward, but he just didn't know whether he or the old man was the one he wanted to kill first with his sword.

After everyone left, Marquis Frey immediately begged for mercy: "Honorable Lord Robb, your father is imprisoned, and sooner or later you will be the guardian of the North. The high-ranking Duke, the exchange with a lowly Marquis like me is definitely your fault. Worst deal ever.”

Robb laughed, took the knife away from Marquis Frey's neck, then stretched out his hand to lift him up and threw him to the ground: "I still like your unruly look just now."

Marquis Frey was beaten to pieces. He lay on the ground and struggled to raise his head. When he saw Robb sitting majestically in his lord's seat, he thought about whether he should take this opportunity to run out and call the guards. Come and kill this fucking bastard.

But he looked at his legs, which were struggling to stand up, and silently gave up the idea.

He couldn't guarantee that he could die behind the opponent.

"You can't kill me and attack a noble for no reason. No one will continue to follow you. Do you want to become the second Mad King?" Marquis Frey got up from the ground with difficulty, "And no matter what you want, , you just need to kill me, my sons - although they want me to die very badly, as long as you kill me, they will also kill you!"

Marquis Frey is right, these are the rules of the aristocratic game in Westeros.

Robb looked at him who was about to urinate, and said with a smile: "I didn't intend to kill you, I just came to negotiate some terms with you, but your mouth is too bad, I just want to teach you a lesson."

After hearing that his life was safe, Lord Feyre immediately stared at Robb with malicious eyes.