CHAPTER 92
The sky was a leaden grey, with thick clouds pressing down overhead. Fine snow drifted on the wind, enveloping Winterfell and the surrounding wilderness in a lonely desolation.
Especially after Winterfell received a plea for help from Torrhen's Square, there was an even stronger sense that the ancient stronghold stood on the brink of a storm.
By this time, several days had passed since Euron Greyjoy broke through Torrhen's Square.
Inside the inner keep, in the sewing room, Sansa Stark sat by the window, gazing at the fine snow outside, her heart filled with longing for her family and unease about the current situation.
Jeyne Poole, seated to her right, also looked mournful. Her father had followed Lord Eddard Stark to King's Landing, and since Lord Stark's imprisonment, there had been no news of him.
Compared to Sansa and Jeyne, Beth Cassel was clearly in much better spirits. Just a week ago, her father, Ser Rodrik Cassel, had returned safely to Winterfell, bringing news that Lady Catelyn was safe. This greatly eased Sansa's tense heart.
Sansa had been sitting in a daze for a long time, and seeing the snow outside growing heavier, she decided to send her companions home first.
But just then, a flurry of hurried footsteps came from outside the sewing room.
Sansa looked in the direction of the sound and saw none other than Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrik Cassel.
"Sansa!"
Snowflakes still clung to Maester Luwin's robes, and his face was tense.
As soon as he entered, he anxiously called out to Sansa.
"Something has happened!"
Sansa's expression instantly changed.
"Is there news of Father and Robb?"
At this moment, Ser Rodrik followed closely behind. Seeing his daughter and Jeyne Poole also present, he couldn't help but frown.
He interrupted what Maester Luwin was about to say and told Beth and Jeyne, "You two should return home first. We have urgent matters to discuss with Lady Sansa."
Jeyne and Beth were not surprised.
Since Robb Stark had led his army south, the people currently overseeing Winterfell's affairs were Maester Luwin, Ser Rodrik, and Sansa herself.
The two girls tidied their needlework and quickly walked out of the sewing room.
After Ser Rodrik watched them leave, he said in a deep voice, "No, it is not news from King's Landing. Something has happened at Torrhen's Square and Sea Dragon Point."
Maester Luwin stepped forward and handed the letters in his hand to Sansa.
Sansa heard that it was not bad news concerning her father and Robb, and after calming herself, she took the letters and opened them to read.
The next moment, her eyes widened and her face filled with terror.
The first letter, from Torrhen's Square, was hastily written and stained with traces of soot and blood.
"The castle has fallen. The Ironborn army is advancing eastward. Their target is likely Winterfell."
The second letter, sent from the western coast, was even more urgent.
"Ironborn forces have landed in strength. The surrounding villages have already fallen. Urgent reinforcements are needed. Save us quickly!"
Ser Rodrik slammed his fist onto a nearby table and said bitterly, "Gods above! Torrhen's Square is finished, and the western coast is in grave danger! Euron Greyjoy, that madman, must have Winterfell as his target!"
Maester Luwin's face was pale, but his voice remained calm.
"We must react immediately."
"The garrison within Winterfell, together with the men who can bear arms, numbers no more than a few hundred. We cannot confront Euron's army head-on."
Just as he was about to continue, the assistant from the Maester's Turret practically stumbled into the sewing room, clutching a roll of parchment.
A third raven had arrived, bringing another devastating piece of news.
"Moat Cailin..." the assistant's voice trembled. "Moat Cailin has fallen. Victarion Greyjoy has captured the fortress. The passage to the south has been completely cut off!"
When Sansa heard this news, she covered her mouth in horror.
She knew this meant that her brother Robb and the Northern army he led were now cut off in the South.
Ser Rodrik's face turned ashen.
"The throat, the ribs, and now the heart! Balon Greyjoy means to swallow the entire North in one bite!"
Maester Luwin took a deep breath. His gaze swept across the map before finally settling on the west.
"Our only hope is Deepwood Motte."
"Lord Garon is closest to us and commands the most disciplined force remaining in the North. If he can reach Winterfell in time, we can hold out safely until the other bannermen arrive."
"Sansa, we must send for his help immediately!"
Sansa's eyes lit up.
"I'll write the letter now!"
But Ser Rodrik reminded her, "Deepwood Motte also faces the threat from Sea Dragon Point."
"This is still our only hope, Ser Rodrik."
Maester Luwin's tone was unequivocal.
"We must believe that Lord Garon can judge the situation correctly."
"Immediately send out the fastest raven. No, send five ravens. Tell Lord Garon that Winterfell is in grave danger and implore him to hasten eastward to our rescue."
Given the situation, the others could only comply.
Soon, five ravens flew out from Winterfell, carried by the wind and snow as they disappeared into the Wolfswood.
As the ravens desperately made their journey, Asha Greyjoy was already preparing to lead her crew ashore at Sea Dragon Point.
The night was black as ink, and a hundred longships, like floating phantoms, silently glided onto the beach.
The Ironborn, dressed in dark clothing, disembarked as quietly as possible and began dragging the ships farther inland, their breaths condensing into white mist in the cold air.
"Damn this weather. Is it already snowing in the North?"
Asha looked up at the sky, and a snowflake landed on her high-bridged nose, making her shiver.
Her gaze was sharp like a wary she-wolf's, scanning the dark coastline and the even darker outline of the forest behind it.
"Be careful. The men who escaped last time ran into Deepwood Motte's people up ahead. They may have left scouts here."
Asha gave the order, and her trusted subordinate, Old Oak, led several dozen men to silently approach the hills not far from the coast.
Meanwhile, she began organizing her soldiers and waited for Old Oak's return.
About an hour later, Old Oak reappeared before Asha.
"Captain, you were right. I caught one alive and forced him to reveal that there are five watch posts deployed all across Sea Dragon Point."
"It seems Lord Glover is very cautious."
Asha let out a cold sneer.
"Find them. Wipe them all out."
Old Oak nodded and led Asha toward the locations of the watch posts.
Soon, they arrived at the first watchtower on the edge of the pine forest.
Asha waved her hand, and her men used the cover of darkness to kill all four guards inside.
She climbed the watchtower, looked around, and noticed a Myrish spyglass resting there.
A soft hum escaped her lips.
"Glover really spared no expense. He even equipped his scouts with Myrish spyglasses. Come on, let's go visit his next eye."
Using the information Old Oak had extracted, Asha led her men toward the second, better-hidden watch post.
This time, their movements were even quicker.
The sentry fell before he had time to raise any alarm.
From a soldier who had not yet died, Asha extracted the exact locations of the remaining watch posts using a cold blade and an even colder voice.
She then cleanly killed the soldier and led her men toward the third watch post.
But just as she was about to arrive, an accident occurred.
A soldier, needing to relieve himself, had just stepped away from the watchtower when he ran directly into Old Oak and the writhing shadows behind him.
"Enemy attack!"
"Ironborn! It's the Ironborn!"
The soldier, disregarding everything else, abruptly turned and shouted toward the watch post.
"Damn it! Kill him!"
Asha roared.
A throwing axe flew from her hand and accurately embedded itself in the sentry's chest, cutting short his cry.
But it was already too late.
In an instant, a towering blaze erupted from the watchtower.
At the same time, the watch posts farther away, seeing the fire, quickly lit their own signal fires.
Garon's backup plan had worked.
After the last watchtower in the Wolfswood observed the chain of signal fires, a mounted scout rushed out from the tower, desperately whipping his horse as he galloped toward Deepwood Motte.
The remaining watch post soldiers followed their predetermined routes, gathering together and running toward their rendezvous point deep within the Wolfswood.
Asha witnessed the scene and immediately understood that her plan for a flawless secret landing had been ruined.
She looked at the crew behind her, her voice becoming cold and sharp.
"They know."
"But it doesn't matter. They won't have time to react."
"Send someone to tell Quenton to leave three hundred men behind to guard the longships."
"The rest of you, assemble. We will shove fear down their throats before they can even herd the farmers into the castle."
The Ironborn erupted into wild war cries.
Abandoning all stealth, they surged forward like a black tide overflowing its banks, following their leader as they plunged fiercely into the depths of the Wolfswood.
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