CHAPTER 81
Deepwood Motte.
Gray clouds pressed heavily over the wilderness, while hundreds of gray-brown tents stretched outward from North Keep toward the castle grounds.
Along the muddy roads, the clatter of armor mixed endlessly with the neighing of warhorses, creating constant noise throughout the camp.
Garon, dressed in leather armor with a longsword hanging at his waist, inspected the army alongside Robert Glover, Maester Beckman, and Chief Steward Mormont.
The moment he received Robb Stark's summons, Garon immediately ordered the four clan heirs of the Steel Fist Group to return to their respective clans and begin conscripting men.
In merely two days, Deepwood Motte suddenly became flooded with nearly two thousand additional soldiers, turning the once orderly fortress incredibly chaotic.
"Are the food supplies sufficient for now?"
As Garon walked from the training grounds toward the military camps outside the castle walls, he occasionally questioned the others about the current situation.
Chief Steward Mormont calculated briefly before replying,
"It is enough for the time being. The clans brought some provisions themselves, and combined with our own reserves, it should last more than half a year."
He paused before looking toward the western fields beyond the castle.
"And the oat harvest is almost ready as well, so there is no need to worry about shortages, my lord."
Garon nodded solemnly.
"When we depart, forty percent of the new harvest must be sealed away as reserve grain."
"Do not believe those wandering sorcerers claiming this winter will be short."
Chief Steward Mormont immediately nodded seriously.
"As you command, my lord."
The four continued walking past the archery field.
Garon noticed Mihawk still personally supervising the archers' training and turned toward Maester Beckman.
"Scholar, how many new bows have been completed now?"
Maester Beckman replied,
"My lord, there are currently over six hundred completed bows, though only Mihawk's five hundred archers have been fully equipped."
Garon nodded lightly.
"That is enough for now. Scholar, after I leave, continue researching armor-piercing arrows."
In an era without machinery, every piece of craftsmanship depended entirely upon manpower.
Especially the gathering and processing of raw materials.
Even the preparation of fish bladder glue required well over a hundred laborers working before and after the process.
Garon understood this reality clearly.
Since the current stockpile of new bows was already sufficient for the army, he decided to temporarily halt further production and redirect their efforts toward researching armor-piercing arrows.
Hearing this, Maester Beckman sighed helplessly.
"There is actually very little room left to improve the craftsmanship of arrows themselves. The only remaining path is improving the materials."
"Deepwood Motte possesses abundant timber, but we lack proper metal for arrowheads."
He looked toward Garon and continued,
"If you could acquire dragonglass, my lord, there may truly be progress."
Garon immediately felt speechless.
Training the army and manufacturing new bows had already nearly emptied Deepwood Motte's treasury.
Not to mention the watchtowers constructed along Sea Dragon Point, each equipped with expensive Myrish lenses.
Even after seizing Joel's hundred gold dragons, Garon had still needed to contribute a considerable amount of his own resources.
At present, the treasury of Deepwood Motte was so poor that even rats entering it would leave weeping.
Still, Garon did not reject the suggestion.
"I'll find a way to acquire dragonglass."
After all, whether for developing armor-piercing arrows or combating the Others in the future, dragonglass was absolutely necessary.
"Since the North lacks such resources, then I'll simply have to imitate the Dothraki and plunder wealth from the south."
"Once I conquer the Iron Islands, I'll definitely strip layers of flesh from both the Westerlands and the Riverlands."
A deep glint flashed through Garon's eyes as he silently planned ahead.
The four did not interrupt Mihawk's training and instead continued walking past the workshops and through the training grounds toward the castle gates.
After integrating Deepwood Motte's original six hundred men, the Steel Fist Group had now begun integrating the newly conscripted two thousand soldiers using the same structure.
The training grounds were packed with shouting men and restless horses, creating complete chaos.
Garon stopped briefly to observe the ongoing training before helplessly shaking his head.
Turning toward Robert, he said,
"Uncle, at this pace, integration will delay our departure."
"How about this? Jon and I will personally assist with training."
Robert immediately nodded with a smile.
"With your help, things will certainly move much faster."
Then he hesitated slightly before quietly asking,
"Garon, why are you insisting on leaving Jon behind?"
Garon glanced toward him.
"Jon spoke to you?"
Robert grunted affirmatively before continuing,
"Lord Stark is imprisoned in King's Landing. Though Jon is a bastard, he naturally wishes to rescue his father. Why stop him from going south?"
Garon slowly shook his head.
"It is precisely because he is Lord Stark's bastard that I want him to remain in Deepwood Motte."
In truth, Garon already had plans for Jon Snow.
On this campaign, Garon had no intention whatsoever of marching south himself.
He was determined to remain in the North and prepare against the Ironborn.
And now, Jon had gradually become one of the few capable men Garon truly trusted.
Keeping Jon in the North would greatly increase his chances against the Iron Islands.
But if Jon accompanied him to Winterfell, Jon's personality would almost certainly drive him to beg Robb Stark for permission to march south.
And once Robb personally spoke, Garon would find it difficult to refuse.
Rather than allowing matters to develop that far, it was simpler not to bring Jon at all.
Naturally, Garon could not explain any of this openly.
So he merely gave a vague answer.
Robert thought briefly before whispering,
"Are you worried that allowing Jon to gain merit on the battlefield will anger Lady Catelyn?"
Garon paused slightly, not expecting Robert to reach that conclusion.
Still, it conveniently provided him with an excuse.
"Exactly."
"Lady Catelyn despises bastards, and the battlefield is no place for internal conflict. Discord within the command structure would only damage morale."
"Rather than risking that, leaving Jon behind is the safer choice."
Robert nodded thoughtfully after hearing the explanation.
At that moment, a gloomy-looking Jon Snow approached with several soldiers.
"Lord Garon, the men who arrived yesterday have also been settled."
After reporting, Jon immediately looked hopefully toward Robert.
Unfortunately, Robert had already accepted Garon's explanation and no longer intended to plead for him.
Seeing Jon's hopeful gaze, Robert merely shook his head slightly.
Jon's heart instantly sank.
Ever since their previous conversation, Jon had repeatedly tried to subtly persuade Garon to change his mind.
Yet Garon had rejected him every single time.
Originally, Jon had gradually begun accepting the fact that he would remain behind in Deepwood Motte.
But then the very outcome Garon once predicted truly came to pass.
Ned Stark had been imprisoned in King's Landing.
The moment Jon learned of it, all his former rationality completely collapsed.
He immediately sought out Garon and desperately begged once more to be allowed south to rescue his father.
Yet Garon had still refused him with the exact same reasoning.
Left with no alternatives, Jon turned to Robert and hoped his uncle might intercede for him.
But now it was obvious that attempt had failed as well.
For a brief instant, Jon genuinely wanted to abandon his sworn sword status entirely and ride directly back to Winterfell.
Yet his sense of honor and duty quickly restrained him.
"Jon, don't worry. I promise I'll bring Lord Stark and Arya back safely."
Seeing Jon's dejected expression, Garon patted his shoulder and calmly reassured him.
"These soldiers have only just arrived. Most of them don't even know how to form ranks yet."
"This afternoon, you and I will personally train them. We need to teach them discipline and obedience as quickly as possible."
Jon nodded weakly before leading his men away.
After watching him leave, Garon continued inspecting the remaining camps.
That afternoon, he personally led the Steel Fist Group in reorganizing the newly conscripted soldiers into the existing military structure.
The training lasted only five days.
On one hand, the new recruits had finally achieved basic integration.
On the other hand, Garon truly could not afford further delay.
Thus, the army of House Glover finally departed for Winterfell.