CHAPTER 131
The thunder of hooves echoed across the frozen wilderness.
Following the directions given by the old farmer, Garon and his cavalry reached the stream within an hour.
The scene before them immediately confirmed the man's account.
Roughly fifty or sixty Ironborn had gathered along the riverbank.
Some laughed loudly while others shouted orders, forcing captured farmers to cut down nearby trees.
The Ironborn were clearly preparing crude boats to carry them downstream toward the western coast.
Then they heard the approaching cavalry.
Instinctively, the raiders turned their heads.
A familiar banner appeared through the cold air.
The Glover sigil.
Panic exploded among them.
"Damn it!"
"It's Glover!"
"Run!"
"Run!"
The Ironborn reacted as though death itself had arrived.
Some immediately fled into the nearby woods.
Others threw themselves into the icy river without hesitation, attempting to swim across despite the freezing current.
Garon's expression remained cold.
"Kill them."
His hand dropped.
At once, the cavalry drew their bows.
A storm of arrows filled the air.
Whoosh!
The sky darkened with fletching.
Screams erupted from the riverbank.
The water instantly turned crimson.
Most of the Ironborn attempting to cross the stream were struck before they could reach the opposite shore.
Bodies splashed into the current and were carried away downstream.
Only a handful managed to survive, relying on years of life at sea and strong swimming skills to escape.
Garon barely spared them a glance.
Instead, his attention shifted toward the forest where the remaining Ironborn had fled.
"Go."
"Leave none alive."
Immediately, the cavalry split apart.
Riders spread around the woods and sealed every possible escape route.
Several groups dismounted and entered the trees.
The sounds of fighting soon echoed through the forest.
Then silence returned.
The entire pursuit lasted only a short while.
The outcome had never been in doubt.
Soon afterward, Shanks returned.
Several soldiers escorted three frightened men wearing filthy chainmail.
"My lord."
Garon looked at the prisoners.
A trace of confusion crossed his face.
"Who are they?"
Shanks answered immediately.
"They are not Ironborn."
"They claim to be men from the lands around Torrhen's Square."
According to the captured Ironborn, these three had helped the raiders survive.
They joined the plundering.
They guided them through local villages.
They participated willingly.
The moment Garon heard the explanation, his expression hardened.
"Hang them."
His voice carried no room for discussion.
Then he issued another order.
"Gather everyone."
Shanks immediately obeyed.
Before long, ropes were secured to a large tree beside the river.
The three collaborators were hanged without delay.
Nearby farmers who had been rescued from the Ironborn were brought forward and assembled before the tree.
The surviving cavalry also gathered.
When everyone had arrived, Garon climbed onto a large stone.
His gaze swept across the crowd.
"The North suffers because of the Ironborn invasion."
His voice carried clearly across the riverbank.
"By the authority of Winterfell and House Stark, I have been charged with driving the invaders from our lands and protecting our people."
Then he pointed toward the hanging corpses.
"But these men."
"They were born in the North."
"They should have defended their homes."
"They should have protected their neighbors."
Instead, his voice rose.
"They aided the Ironborn."
"They helped burn Northern villages."
"They helped plunder Northern families."
"They helped terrorize Northern women and children."
His eyes swept across the crowd.
"Tell me."
"Do they deserve mercy?"
The response was immediate.
The cavalry roared.
The rescued villagers shouted even louder.
Many stared at the hanging corpses with naked hatred.
"They deserve death!"
"Hang them!"
"Traitors!"
"They should have died long ago!"
The furious cries echoed across the snow-covered landscape.
The faces of the three corpses had already turned pale.
One of them had even lost control of his bladder before the execution.
The smell lingered faintly in the air.
Garon ignored it.
"There is one more thing."
His voice remained cold.
"Hang every Ironborn corpse you find along this river."
"Place them in the trees."
"I want every raider."
"Every outlaw."
"Every would-be traitor."
"To understand the consequences of bringing violence to the North."
The order was carried out immediately.
As the sun descended toward the horizon, corpses hung from the barren trees lining the riverbank.
The grim display resembled a warning carved into the land itself.
A declaration.
The North would no longer tolerate chaos.
Order was returning.
And it would be enforced with iron resolve.
Not long after the work was completed, Jon Snow arrived with the remaining infantry alongside a Karstark captain commanding part of the force.
"My lord."
Jon's expression was serious.
He glanced briefly at the corpses hanging from the trees before lowering his voice.
"A messenger arrived from Torrhen's Square."
"The situation there is not good."
Garon's brows immediately furrowed.
"Not good?"
His thoughts instantly shifted toward Euron Greyjoy.
"Did Crow's Eye attack Torrhen's Square?"
Jon shook his head.
Instead, he gestured toward a tired rider standing nearby.
The messenger hurried forward.
His clothes were covered in dust and snow.
From inside his tunic, he produced a crumpled letter.
"Lord Glover."
His voice shook with urgency.
"Please save Torrhen's Square."
"Lord Lambert..."
The man swallowed.
"Lord Lambert is nearly driven mad."
"But there is nothing he can do."
The messenger's explanation was so chaotic that it only deepened the confusion.
Garon accepted the letter.
"Calm yourself."
"Tell me exactly what happened."
As he spoke, he broke the seal.
Using a nearby torch for light, he began reading.
Only a few lines in, his expression changed.
By the time he reached the end of the letter, the air around him seemed to grow colder.
Shock appeared first.
Then fury.
Pure fury.
"Good."
A dangerous smile appeared on his face.
"Very good."
Suddenly, he slammed the letter against the trunk of a nearby tree.
The impact caused several hanging bodies to sway.
The surrounding officers instinctively flinched.
"My lord?"
The Karstark captain stepped forward.
"What happened?"
Without speaking, Garon handed him the letter.
"Read it."
The captain quickly scanned the contents.
As he continued reading, his expression gradually turned blank.
Disbelief filled his face.
"How is this possible?"
"Torrhen's Square..."
"They actually..."
At last he understood.
And he immediately understood why Garon was furious.
The letter described everything in detail.
The Ironborn had ravaged the surrounding lands.
Family members of local nobles had been murdered.
Their bodies displayed on walls.
Villages destroyed.
Fields burned.
Yet that was not what angered Lambert Tallhart most.
The surviving landed knights and lesser nobles had gathered inside Torrhen's Square with their remaining soldiers.
Terrified by the Ironborn raids, they refused to act.
They watched as small groups of fleeing Ironborn passed beneath their walls on the road to the western coast.
No one pursued.
No one attacked.
No one lifted a sword.
Lambert had demanded action.
They ignored him.
He lacked the authority to compel them.
All he could do was watch in helpless fury and send word to Garon.
The Karstark captain lowered the letter.
Disgust filled his voice.
"Spineless cowards."
"They allowed the very men who destroyed their homes to walk away."
"They abandoned their duty."
Then he looked toward Garon.
"My lord."
"We should march to Torrhen's Square immediately."
Jon's face was equally dark.
"They've disgraced the North."
"We cannot allow this to continue."
Garon remained silent for a long moment.
His anger had not faded.
But beneath the anger, he saw opportunity.
Torrhen's Square needed leadership.
Strong leadership.
Perhaps stronger than House Tallhart alone could currently provide.
Finally, he sighed.
"The honor of the North is being devoured by worms."
His gaze moved between Jon and the Karstark captain.
"This ends now."
"The remaining threats near Barrowton can be handled by House Dustin."
"We will deal with Torrhen's Square ourselves."
The weariness that had accumulated over days of marching seemed to vanish from his eyes.
Only determination remained.
He turned toward the assembled officers.
"Pass the order to the entire army."
His voice rang across the camp.
"At first light tomorrow, we break camp."
"Our destination..."
His gaze hardened.
"Torrhen's Square."
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