CHAPTER 107
Outside Winterfell, crows circled overhead.
The battlefield at dawn was a scene of devastation. Fallen bodies, scattered weapons, shattered shields, and remains trampled into bloody pulp lay everywhere across the frozen ground.
With the harsh scrape of chains, Hunters Gate was opened once more.
Mounted on horseback, Garon led a hundred cavalrymen across frost-covered dead grass and pools of frozen blood, beginning the grim task of clearing the battlefield where the desperate struggle had taken place the previous night. The steady clatter of hooves echoed across the cold plain.
Garon took a deep breath of the frigid air as his gaze swept across the entire battlefield before the gate.
As far as the eye could see, mutilated Ironborn corpses littered the ground.
They lay sprawled in twisted positions upon the frozen earth, hollow eyes staring toward the gray northern sky. Battle-axes, swords, shields, and broken spears were scattered nearby.
Large stretches of snow had been stained dark red. After freezing overnight, the blood appeared almost black against the pale landscape.
Garon was already accustomed to the sights of war and slaughter. His expression did not change.
He calmly issued orders.
"Squads One and Two, investigate the Wolfswood exit."
"Squads Three, Four, and Five, search Winter Town. Stay alert."
"Squads Six and Seven, inspect the area around the main gate."
"Squad Eight, follow the route of the Ironborn retreat toward Cerwyn and keep watch on Ironborn movements."
"Squads Nine and Ten remain with me."
The cavalry squads immediately moved out without wasting words.
Garon watched them depart before leading the remaining twenty riders to begin counting bodies and assessing the battlefield.
Because manpower was scarce, he could not spare cavalrymen to deal with the corpses yet. For now, they would remain frozen beneath the snow and ice.
As for the weapons and armor left behind by the Ironborn, Garon only gave them a brief glance.
After a rough estimate, he concluded that nearly three hundred Ironborn had died around Hunters Gate alone.
Ten minutes later, Squads One, Two, Six, and Seven returned one after another with their reports.
"So, during last night's battle, we killed roughly five hundred Ironborn."
"And according to Maester Luwin's earlier estimates, Euron's forces did not exceed two thousand men. That means his remaining strength should now be somewhere around twelve hundred."
Garon fell silent for a moment.
A trace of regret surfaced in his heart.
Had he known the Ironborn numbers were so limited, he could have continued the pursuit during the night and expanded the victory.
"Forget it."
"Once Ron arrives, if Euron receives no reinforcements, then he's finished."
Garon raised his gaze toward the direction of Cerwyn, his eyes remaining cold and calculating.
"The real problem is that he will most likely try to rendezvous with Victarion at Moat Cailin."
"And Victarion and the Iron Fleet are far more troublesome than Euron alone."
Among Balon Greyjoy's brothers, Victarion was the greatest warrior.
Even throughout Westeros, few men could rival him in single combat.
Before crossing blades with Victarion, even Garon would not confidently claim victory.
"With my current strength, I can't handle Victarion and Euron together."
"After reclaiming Cerwyn, I need to begin recruiting soldiers in Winterfell's name immediately."
His gaze slowly drifted eastward.
Toward the Dreadfort.
A faint anticipation appeared in his eyes.
"Will the Bastard of Bolton make his move this time?"
"If he does, that would be perfect."
As far as Ramsay Snow was concerned, Garon had already devised a method to deal with him.
After all, few people understood the Bastard of Bolton better than he did.
While Garon considered the larger situation, a rider from Squad Three suddenly galloped over from Winter Town.
"My lord!"
"We found more than three hundred northern captives in Winter Town. They were being driven by the Ironborn during the siege."
"The leaders among them are Ser Helman Tallhart of Torrhen's Square and several retainers of House Cerwyn."
Garon's eyes brightened.
"Take me there."
Without delay, he spurred his horse forward and led the cavalry toward Winter Town.
Meanwhile, inside the ruined keep of Cerwyn, Euron was discussing future plans with the Ironborn captains.
"Since Deepwood Motte's forces appeared, Asha has obviously failed."
"And now Aeron is dead as well."
Euron's dark eye swept across the assembled captains.
"With only our remaining strength, taking Winterfell will be difficult."
His voice became colder.
"I've decided to abandon Cerwyn and Torrhen's Square and rendezvous with Victarion as quickly as possible."
"What do you think?"
None of the captains objected.
The Ironborn excelled at raiding, not holding castles.
Remaining in place would only invite disaster.
"Captain Euron, we follow your command."
"That's right. If Deepwood Motte hadn't arrived last night, Winterfell would already have fallen."
"Still, shouldn't we send word back to King Balon about Asha's failure and Aeron's death?"
The captains voiced their agreement one after another.
Euron seemed pleased until someone suggested informing the Iron Islands.
His eye narrowed.
After staring at the speaker for a moment, a strange smile appeared on his face.
"No hurry."
"Asha's situation has not yet been confirmed."
"First contact Asha and Victarion."
"Once everything is verified, then we can send word to Balon."
The captains thought his reasoning was sound and quickly accepted it.
"Before we leave, however, let's leave Glover a little gift."
Euron's smile widened.
"Gather every surviving resident of Cerwyn."
"I want Glover to understand what fear truly looks like when he arrives."
The Ironborn burst into laughter and immediately carried out the order.
Before long, Cerwyn once again descended into blood and fire.
That afternoon, the cavalrymen of Squad Eight reached the hills outside Cerwyn.
From a distance, they saw smoke rising above the settlement and heard faint screams carried by the wind.
The Ironborn were clearly continuing their atrocities.
"Return immediately."
"Report everything to Lord Garon."
The ten riders dared not delay.
They turned their horses around and galloped back toward Winterfell.
By the time they arrived, evening had already fallen.
Coincidentally, a dark line of marching men was emerging from the Wolfswood at that very moment.
Above them flew the red banner bearing the silver steel fist of House Glover.
The captain of Squad Eight immediately laughed.
"Captain Ron has finally arrived."
"Let's go."
The riders hurried toward Hunters Gate.
When they arrived, Garon had already been waiting there.
"Haha, Ron, you've finally made it."
Garon stepped forward with a smile.
Ron's arrival greatly eased the pressure weighing on everyone's shoulders.
With eight hundred additional infantry, Winterfell's greatest weakness, its lack of manpower, had finally been resolved.
Whether fighting outside the walls or defending them against another siege, Garon now possessed far more flexibility.
Ron looked around at the battlefield littered with Ironborn corpses and sincerely praised him.
"My lord, you truly did it."
"You saved Winterfell."
Garon smiled and patted his shoulder.
"Come. Let's talk inside."
Ron nodded and led the eight hundred soldiers of Deepwood Motte through Hunters Gate.
That evening, Winterfell's Great Hall hosted its first proper gathering since the siege.
The food was simple, but the atmosphere was completely different.
There was no lavish celebration.
Instead, Garon invited Sansa Stark and Maester Luwin to host a meal for the officers, centurions, Ron, Mihawk, Jon, and the other commanders.
Because Bran had once again fallen into one of his mysterious sleeps, only Sansa occupied the high seat.
Maester Luwin sat beside her.
Clay Cerwyn and his sister were also present, seated near the far end of the hall.
Garon sat opposite Sansa while sharing the simple meal with the officers.
After dinner, the servants cleared away the dishes and a map of the region around Winterfell was spread across the table.
"Gentlemen."
"The scouts report that Euron has withdrawn to Cerwyn."
Garon tapped the map.
"They are currently slaughtering civilians within the town and may leave at any moment."
Clay immediately rose to his feet in alarm.
Before he could speak, Garon's gaze forced him back into his seat.
Pointing at Cerwyn's location, Garon continued.
"The Ironborn are not suited for holding castles."
"In my judgment, Euron will either retreat toward Torrhen's Square to gather support or move south toward Moat Cailin to join Victarion."
He looked around the hall.
"We must intercept Euron at Cerwyn before he can act."
"If he chooses to fight us directly, there will only be one outcome."
"Death."
The officers immediately voiced their approval.
"My lord, just give the order."
"I volunteer to lead the vanguard."
"We'll tear those sea monsters apart."
Seeing the high morale, Garon nodded with satisfaction.
He scanned the room before laying out his strategy.
"Cerwyn sits near one of the tributaries of the White Knife."
"To prevent Euron from moving south by water and joining the Ironborn around Moat Cailin..."
His gaze landed on Mihawk.
"Mihawk, I'm assigning you one hundred cavalry and one hundred archers."
"Before dawn tomorrow, move here."
His finger pointed to a crossing marked on the map.
"The White Knife crossing where the tributary meets the Kingsroad."
"If Euron attempts to use the river route, he must pass through there."
"Ambush him and destroy him."
Mihawk immediately replied.
"Yes, Lord Garon."
Garon nodded.
Then he looked toward Ron.
"Ron, tomorrow you march with me."
"Four hundred infantry, two hundred cavalry, and one hundred archers."
"We move on Cerwyn."
Ron frowned slightly.
"My lord, isn't that a little too few? Shouldn't we bring more men?"
Garon shook his head.
"Winterfell still requires defenders."
"Besides, our seven hundred men combined with the three hundred surviving men of House Cerwyn are more than enough."
Ron trusted Garon's judgment and did not argue further.
Finally, Garon turned toward Jon.
"Jon, you remain in Winterfell and command the garrison."
"Without my explicit order, no one enters or leaves Winterfell."
Jon immediately nodded.
"I understand."
Garon looked around the hall one final time.
Then he raised his cup.
"For the North."
"For the North!"
Everyone rose and raised their cups in unison.
The banquet ended there.