CHAPTER 100
Winterfell, built by Brandon the Builder with the aid of giants, was protected by two immense granite walls separated by a broad moat.
The outer wall stood roughly eighty feet high, while the inner wall rose nearly a hundred feet.
The main gatehouse consisted of two massive towers guarding the drawbridge and the market square beyond.
The castle possessed four gates: the main gate, the Hunter's Gate, and the North and South Gates.
Furthermore, narrow passageways within the inner wall stretched across most of the castle, allowing defenders to move directly from the South Gate to the North Gate without obstruction and provide support wherever needed.
It could truly be called a fortress armed to the teeth.
Under normal circumstances, if sufficient food stores existed within the castle, only eight or nine hundred soldiers would be required to defend Winterfell perfectly.
Unless dragons descended from the sky, even an army numbering thirty or forty thousand men would struggle to take Winterfell within a year or more of siege.
This truth had been proven countless times throughout the long history of Stark rule in the North.
Euron Greyjoy understood this very well, but he understood something else even better.
Winterfell was nearly empty.
After cunningly capturing Torrhen's Square, Euron had burned, looted, and slaughtered his way across the North, not only to satisfy his twisted desires but also to lure Winterfell's defenders into the field.
Yet even after Castle Cerwyn fell, no Stark force had come to its rescue.
That realization convinced Euron that Winterfell lacked the manpower even to organize a proper field army.
"That wolf pup marched south to avenge his father and left barely anyone to guard his own den."
Mounted upon his horse, Euron looked toward the sparse figures visible atop Winterfell's walls, a sneer appearing on his lips.
He glanced upward.
Night was approaching.
"Aeron."
Euron's voice carried across the camp.
"You will remain here with five hundred men. Supervise the sheep while they finish constructing the siege engines. We begin the assault tomorrow morning."
Aeron lowered his voice.
"Should we not wait for Asha?"
"By my reckoning, if everything has gone well, she should join us within the next few days."
Euron's single eye fixed itself upon Aeron.
The Damphair immediately felt a chill run through him.
Ever since drinking that cup of Shade of the Evening earlier that day, the visions he had witnessed had only deepened his fear of Euron.
"We do not have time to waste at Winterfell."
For once, Euron explained his reasoning.
"That young wolf took most of Winterfell's fighting men south with him. Only old men, boys, and a handful of soldiers remain behind."
"If we seize this opportunity, the castle will fall quickly."
"But if we wait for Asha before attacking, Winterfell gains several more days to prepare. Every extra day introduces new variables."
"You should remember that Winterfell has certainly sent ravens calling for aid."
Mad though he was, Euron remained the cleverest of Balon's brothers.
He understood the situation perfectly.
The sooner Winterfell fell, the sooner he could turn and strike the armies marching to its relief.
Aeron considered the matter and realized Euron was correct.
He asked in surprise, "Have the Starks lost their senses? Why leave so few men guarding their own seat?"
If Garon had been present, he would have immediately understood that the answer was connected to decisions made weeks earlier.
During the war council at Winterfell, Robb had learned of the possibility of an Ironborn invasion and decided to leave Garon behind to defend the North.
However, with Glover's forces remaining behind, Robb feared the army marching south would be too small.
As a result, he stripped additional men from Winterfell's garrison.
That decision left the castle dangerously undermanned.
The remaining defenders could barely hold the walls, let alone conduct operations in the field.
This was also why Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrik, after receiving pleas for aid from Castle Cerwyn, had done little beyond sending ravens throughout the North.
Although Euron did not know the exact reason, he clearly understood that fate had handed him a rare opportunity.
Capturing Winterfell was a necessary step if he wished to cross the North and continue his pursuit of dragons.
Naturally, he had no intention of letting that opportunity slip away.
"Have the captives finish the ladders and battering rams."
"I'll send men to harass the castle throughout the night and deny them any rest."
"If fortune favors us, we shall feast inside Winterfell tomorrow."
His confidence infected Aeron.
Taking a deep breath, Aeron led a portion of the Ironborn and their captives toward the Wolfswood to cut timber and continue building siege engines.
Meanwhile, Euron led the Silence crew and the remaining Ironborn into Winter Town to establish camp.
The departure of part of the enemy force allowed Ser Rodrik, standing atop the walls, to finally breathe a little easier.
He descended from the battlements alongside Maester Luwin.
"Maester, it seems Crow's Eye intends to build siege engines before launching an assault."
"We still have some time."
Maester Luwin sighed.
"I will send more ravens and urge every nearby lord to march as quickly as possible."
Ser Rodrik nodded.
The two men then went their separate ways.
Gathering his captains, Ser Rodrik immediately began organizing the night's defenses.
"From now on, every gate must be guarded by at least fifty men."
"Keep the kennel dogs hungry."
"If the enemy breaches a gate, release every hound at once."
Yet no matter how carefully he arranged matters, the lack of manpower remained a crushing burden.
In the end, Ser Rodrik could only place some of his hopes upon the more than one hundred dogs housed within the kennels.
Meanwhile, Maester Luwin went to the crypts and brought Sansa and the others back.
The Cerwyn siblings were escorted away by servants to rest.
Luwin then accompanied Sansa to her chambers and directed servants to place the sleeping Bran gently upon his bed.
Recently, Bran had been behaving strangely.
He seemed to sleep constantly.
Even after resting throughout the night, he frequently fell into deep sleep during the day.
Although Maester Luwin had examined him repeatedly, he remained unable to determine the cause.
Fearing that Bran might never awaken one day, Sansa spent every spare moment talking to him.
Now she tried her best to imitate Lady Catelyn, giving instructions to the servants before dismissing them.
As soon as the room emptied, Bran opened his eyes.
Seeing Sansa's expression, he laughed softly.
"Sansa, you don't look like Mother at all."
Sansa's face brightened immediately.
"Bran, you're awake!"
She hurried to the bedside and sat down beside him, taking his somewhat cold hand in hers.
Then she poured out all her worries.
"Bran, the Ironborn have surrounded Winterfell, and the reinforcements still haven't arrived."
After Robb marched south, Bran had become the only person she could truly confide in.
"Don't worry, Sansa."
"We'll be fine."
A strange light flickered within Bran's eyes.
He spoke with a certainty that reminded one of the three-eyed crow from his dreams.
"Everything will happen at the proper time."
"When the red comet blazes across the heavens, the son of the old gods will rise in answer to the age."
"We will all survive to witness that day with our own eyes."
Sansa failed to understand his meaning.
Yet the certainty in his voice comforted her.
She tucked the blankets around him and smiled.
"You saw that in another dream, didn't you?"
"Did the crow tell you?"
Bran nodded.
"Yes, Sansa."
"And not only that."
A blurry vision from his dreams surfaced within his mind.
His expression became unusually serious.
"I also saw that one day you will become the most noble woman in the world."
Pfft!
Sansa could not help laughing.
Watching her younger brother pretend to be some mysterious prophet eased much of her fear.
She reached out and vigorously rubbed his forehead.
The action immediately shattered Bran's solemn demeanor.
"Sansa!"
"I am the Three-Eyed Crow who guides the son of the old gods."
"Could you at least show me some respect?"
"Of course, my little crow brother."
Sansa laughed.
"Would the great prophet like something to eat?"
"Yes."
Bran answered immediately.
"I want butter-fried fish."
Smiling warmly, Sansa rose to her feet and walked to the door, instructing the servants to prepare food.
As darkness deepened across the North, Euron began ordering the Ironborn to harass Winterfell from every direction.
Throughout the entire night, horns sounded, shouts echoed, and the castle remained in constant turmoil.
Winterfell did not sleep.
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