CHAPTER 135
Torrhen's Square.
The air was thick with the mingled scents of burnt timber, damp stone, and lingering blood. The castle, having just undergone a harsh reckoning, echoed with the familiar bustle that followed victory. Under Ser Lambert Tallhart's direction, the smallfolk hauled stone and timber, repaired the breached curtain walls, and scrubbed away bloodstains left behind by the Ironborn. Over the course of several days, the castle that Euron Greyjoy had plundered gradually regained its former appearance.
Garon stood atop the highest tower, silently gazing toward the rolling hills in the west. He remained motionless, his crimson eyes seeming to pierce the distance all the way to the Stony Shore.
"Lord Garon!"
Jon Snow's voice came from behind him, carrying equal measures of fatigue and excitement.
"As you ordered, the soldiers of Torrhen's Square have been incorporated into our forces, and the castle's defenses have been reorganized. As for the oathbreakers you hanged, we have confiscated part of their estates and distributed them among the smallfolk who suffered during the Ironborn invasion."
Garon did not turn around, merely responding with a quiet hum as his gaze remained fixed upon the distant Stony Shore.
Jon hesitated briefly before walking to his side.
"My lord... Ser Lambert doesn't seem particularly pleased with everything we've done."
After Garon had executed the cowardly landed knights and lesser lords, he had ordered Jon to assume control of both their levies and portions of their property. With Garon directly taking possession of assets that had once belonged to Torrhen's Square, Lambert naturally felt somewhat displeased. However, Garon had helped him reclaim Torrhen's Square and eliminate the vassals who had abandoned House Tallhart during its darkest hour. Out of gratitude and respect, Lambert could voice no open objections.
"It doesn't matter. We won't remain at Torrhen's Square for long."
Garon had expected this outcome from the beginning.
His intention was not to seize control of House Tallhart's lands, but to prepare for the wars that still lay ahead.
Jon nodded happily.
"Yes. The remaining Ironborn are no longer a real threat. Our forces are eliminating them region by region. Once that's finished, the war here will finally be over, and we can march south to reinforce King Robb."
Garon slowly shook his head.
His crimson eyes were calm and profound, containing plans far beyond those expected of someone his age.
Turning toward Jon, he suddenly asked, "Jon, why do you think we won this war?"
Jon blinked in surprise before replying without hesitation.
"Because of your strategy and leadership, Lord Garon. The Ironborn never stood a chance against you."
Garon chuckled.
"You may spare me the flattery. Tell me what you've truly learned."
Understanding this was a test, Jon lowered his head and considered the question carefully before answering.
"We won because our infantry held firm while our cavalry struck decisively. We also made full use of the forests and hills of the North. Although the Ironborn excel at fighting from their ships, they are poor soldiers on land and unfamiliar with Northern terrain. They rushed straight into our traps, and that led to their complete defeat."
Garon nodded approvingly.
"Good. It seems these battles have taught you something."
He looked toward the distant sea once again.
"But although the Iron Islands have suffered a crushing defeat, they are far from destroyed. What if they refuse to accept defeat and return? And when they do, they will certainly have learned from every mistake they made this time."
He pointed toward the west.
"The North possesses one of the longest coastlines in Westeros. If the Ironborn launch raids wherever they please, must we forever chase them from shore to shore? Must we spend every war hiding behind castle walls?"
His voice grew firm.
"We need ships."
Jon froze.
"Garon... are you talking about taking the fight to them?"
"That's the sea."
"Except for House Manderly of White Harbor, who among the Northern lords truly understands sailing? We should defend our own lands. Why challenge the sea itself? That has never been our strength."
Garon looked directly into Jon's eyes, a faint smile appearing at the corner of his mouth.
He understood that Jon's thinking represented nearly every Northern noble. For generations, they had regarded the sea as something dangerous, belonging to the Ironborn rather than themselves.
But Garon knew better.
As someone with knowledge far beyond this age, he understood that true power could never ignore the sea.
A fleet would become an indispensable foundation for everything he hoped to accomplish in the future.
"Our strength?"
Garon slowly shook his head.
"Before Brandon the Burner burned the Northern fleet, the Kings of Winter possessed ships of their own."
He fixed Jon with a steady gaze.
"Never forget this. Ships are only tools. Today they belong to the Ironborn. Tomorrow they can belong to the North. What matters is who commands them."
His voice gradually rose.
"Imagine the day when the Ironborn sit comfortably upon Pyke, believing themselves untouchable... only to look toward the horizon and see the sails of a Northern fleet."
He paused.
"Our goal should never be endless defense."
"Our goal is to answer fire with fire. If they bring war to our shores, then one day we shall carry war to theirs."
"Only then will this problem truly be solved."
Garon's words struck Jon like a thunderbolt, shattering years of deeply rooted beliefs.
For a brief moment, he could almost picture Northern longships cutting through the waves beneath direwolf banners, sailing directly toward Pyke.
The idea sounded almost insane.
Yet it also stirred something deep within him.
"Issue my orders immediately."
Garon looked at Jon as he gave his next command.
"Dispatch every available cavalry patrol, together with local guides familiar with the Stony Shore. Search every stretch of coastline, every cove, every sea cave, and every place where a longship might be hidden. Your priority is to locate every vessel abandoned by the fleeing Ironborn."
"If you find one, report it immediately and post guards around it."
The orders were carried out without delay.
After the victory at Ox Horn Mountain, Garon's prestige throughout the Northern host had reached unprecedented heights. Even when his commands seemed unconventional, no one questioned them.
Over the following days, good news arrived one report after another.
Just as Garon had predicted, the retreating Ironborn had abandoned numerous longships during their hurried flight. Some had been dragged ashore and partially destroyed, others deliberately scuttled inside hidden inlets, while still others had simply been left among the barren reefs along the coast.
Some vessels remained nearly intact.
Others required extensive repairs.
In total, almost forty longships were eventually discovered.
Upon receiving the reports, Garon personally rode to the Stony Shore to inspect them.
When he saw that more than half of the captured longships could be restored to service, genuine satisfaction appeared on his face.
"With these ships..."
He smiled faintly.
"...it is finally time to have another conversation with Asha Greyjoy."
Standing before the gray waters of Ironman's Bay, his thoughts drifted far beyond the horizon.
"Asha is more than Balon Greyjoy's daughter."
"She is also a key."
"A key capable of opening the gates of the Iron Islands."
"Killing her serves little purpose."
"Keeping her imprisoned forever is equally wasteful."
"But if I can make use of her..."
A vague yet extremely tempting plan slowly took shape within his mind.
Using Asha to pressure Balon Greyjoy and the Iron Islands was only the beginning.
"I still need more information before I can truly determine Balon's limits."
"And the Dragonbinder horn..."
His eyes narrowed.
"...that matter must also be placed on the agenda."
Although he was eager to return to Winterfell and speak with Asha immediately, Garon understood that the campaign against the remaining Ironborn had not yet fully concluded.
He patiently returned to Torrhen's Square and remained there for several more days.
Once the scattered Northern forces had regrouped beneath House Tallhart's banners, the month long campaign to drive the Ironborn from the North finally came to a temporary end.
"It's time to return."
With a single order from Garon, the Northern host broke camp and began the long march back to Winterfell.