Game of Thrones: The Wolf of Deepwood Motte

CHAPTER 82



Three days later.

The northern wind whistled across the plains, and the morning air carried a biting chill.

House Karstark finally arrived at Winterfell with three hundred cavalry and nearly two thousand infantry.

Bran remained inside one of the guard towers along the outer wall.

Sitting atop Hodor's shoulders, he observed the approaching army through Maester Luwin's bronze Myrish lens.

Lord Rickard Karstark personally led the column, with his sons Harrion, Eddard, and Torrhen riding beside him.

The force of more than two thousand men slowly approached Winterfell under the rhythm of beating drums.

Bran carefully observed the army and quickly noticed that the cavalry from Karhold rode in a disorderly manner, while the infantry barely maintained formation at all.

Compared to Deepwood Motte's soldiers, they looked no different from ordinary Northern levies.

"They're far behind Garon's army…"

Ever since awakening from his coma, Bran occasionally dreamed of the Three-Eyed Raven.

Under the strange guidance of those dreams, his consciousness would sometimes drift above Deepwood Motte, allowing him to witness fragments of life there.

Among those scenes were glimpses of Garon personally training his army.

However, Bran did not know that he only saw what Garon intentionally allowed him to see.

As for the deeper secrets hidden within Deepwood Motte, Garon had no intention of letting the current Bran Stark discover them.

Beside Bran, the black-haired maid laughed softly after hearing his words.

"Young Master Bran, you're talking nonsense again."

"Lord Garon hasn't even arrived yet, so how do you know his army is stronger than Karhold's?"

Bran silently lowered the telescope and chose not to argue.

Previously, he had spoken about the Three-Eyed Raven to Maester Luwin, but the Maester merely claimed Bran was still confused from his long sleep.

Robb and Sansa had reacted similarly.

From that moment onward, Bran kept everything regarding the Three-Eyed Raven hidden deep inside his heart.

A short while later, the Karstark army settled west of Winter Town.

Lord Rickard and his sons rode toward the South Gate to formally enter Winterfell and meet Robb.

"Let's go. Robb is going to receive Lord Rickard. We should head back too."

Bran lightly patted Hodor's head, signaling him to carry him toward the Great Hall.

Ever since learning that his father had been imprisoned in King's Landing, Robb had seemingly matured overnight.

He ordered Maester Luwin to summon all the Northern lords to war against the Lannisters in order to rescue Ned Stark.

Whenever another lord arrived at Winterfell with his banners, Robb would deliberately seat Bran beneath him in the Great Hall, announcing Bran's continued survival before everyone.

Bran hated it.

Because the eyes of those lords were often filled with pity or hidden disdain, as though they were silently wondering why a crippled boy still clung to life.

Now that Lord Rickard had arrived, Bran knew he would once again endure those same gazes.

Just as he gloomily prepared to leave the tower, his direwolf Summer suddenly let out a fierce howl toward the Wolfswood.

"Hm?"

Bran immediately raised the telescope again toward the distant forest.

Yet after searching for some time, he found nothing unusual.

Just as confusion appeared on Bran's face, several mounted riders carrying banners bearing a silver steel fist upon a crimson field suddenly emerged from the Wolfswood.

One of the horn blowers raised a great horn toward the sky and sounded a long mournful blast.

Whooooo—

Whooooo—

Whooooo—

The horn echoed coldly through the northern wind.

Robb, who had just received word of Lord Rickard's arrival, immediately climbed onto the outer wall and looked toward the Wolfswood.

Behind him, many Northern lords gathered as well.

"It's the Glover banners!"

"Hah, they finally arrived. I thought Deepwood Motte was too frightened of the southerners to come."

"They're so close to Winterfell, yet they arrived this late."

"Mind your tongue. House Glover is soon to marry into House Stark."

"If they're marrying a Stark, then they should've arrived even earlier!"

"Exactly. The Riverlands has the Late Lord Frey, and it seems the North now has the Late Lord Glover!"

The gathered lords argued loudly among themselves.

Greatjon Umber, especially, loudly declared that he intended to test this so-called Giant Bear Slayer personally.

Yet gradually, those mocking voices began fading away.

Shock and fear slowly appeared across their faces instead.

Because accompanied by the mournful horn blast, the Glover army finally emerged from the Wolfswood with unstoppable momentum.

The first thing everyone saw was five hundred cavalry.

Unlike the scattered riders of other Northern houses, these cavalrymen advanced in perfectly ordered formation.

They trotted steadily into the open field before smoothly splitting toward both flanks, quickly forming a massive semicircular protective line.

Every movement was calm and disciplined, as though they were not marching to war, but conducting a military exercise.

Then, beneath the cavalry's protection, Garon's infantry finally appeared.

Garon himself rode at the very front dressed in dark leather armor.

Behind him marched two thousand Glover soldiers arranged in an incredibly dense square formation.

From afar, they resembled a gigantic gray serpent slowly emerging from the mouth of the forest.

Their appearance was accompanied by a low rhythmic thunder.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Those sounds were not war drums.

They were the synchronized footsteps of two thousand trained infantry striking the frozen earth simultaneously.

The oppressive rhythm drowned out even the sound of horses and wind.

The vibrations traveled through the ground itself, causing Winterfell's ancient stone walls to tremble faintly.

Every person watching instantly realized that this was not a hastily assembled mob of levies.

This was a true army.

A sharpened instrument of war.

Robb stared at the approaching force, his eyes filled with both shock and excitement.

At that very moment, the crushing pressure that had weighed upon him ever since learning of Ned's imprisonment suddenly eased considerably.

He realized that Garon had not merely brought soldiers.

He had brought confidence.

He had brought the possibility of victory.

Robb turned and glanced toward the equally stunned Northern lords behind him before bursting into loud laughter.

"Haha!"

"Come on! Let's welcome House Glover!"

He quickly descended from the walls and headed toward the Hunter's Gate.

Meanwhile, Bran remained inside the tower with his face flushed red from excitement.

"See? I told you Deepwood Motte's army was strong!"

He excitedly slapped Hodor's shoulder.

"Quick, take me there!"

Yet Hodor stood frozen in place, staring blankly toward the field as though entranced by the approaching army.

Only after Bran smacked him harder did he finally snap back to his senses.

"Hodor!"

With awe still visible upon his face, Hodor hurriedly carried Bran down from the tower toward Winterfell's Great Hall.

At that same moment, the Glover army advanced to within two hundred meters of Hunter's Gate.

Another long horn blast echoed through the air.

Instantly, the entire army halted as one.

Movement transformed into complete stillness in a single breath.

Every soldier stood motionless like silent stone statues.

Only Garon continued forward alone, riding past the cavalry toward Hunter's Gate.

His expression remained solemn, while the ambition burning within his eyes as he looked toward Winterfell only deepened further.

"From this moment onward, I will climb step by step to the very top."

"I will become the King above all kings."

At that moment, Robb emerged from Winterfell laughing loudly.

And Garon's expression instantly changed.

He smoothly dismounted, stepped forward several paces, and solemnly bowed toward Robb and the assembled Northern lords.

"My Lord Stark!"

"Deepwood Motte, in accordance with the ancient oaths sworn to House Stark, brings two thousand five hundred men to answer your command!"

"House Glover shall forever answer the call of Winterfell!"

His words echoed clearly between Winterfell's towering walls, every sentence firm and unwavering like the Wall itself.

Garon's respectful display immediately moved Robb deeply.

At that moment, confidence surged within Robb's heart.

"With loyal bannermen like Garon beside me, what are the Lannisters to fear?"

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