CHAPTER 138
Winterfell, the Great Hall.
A roaring fire blazed within the great stone hearth, struggling to drive away the cold creeping through the cracks in the doors and windows, as well as the invisible tension that filled the hall.
Several Skagosi, looking completely out of place among the Northmen, stood in the center of the hall. They stared at Sansa upon the high seat with puzzled expressions, seemingly unable to understand why a young woman occupied Winterfell's lordly seat.
Their intrusive stares made Sansa slightly uneasy. Her hands tightened quietly in her lap as she instinctively glanced toward Garon and Maester Luwin.
The maester stood at her side, while Garon positioned himself slightly ahead, calmly observing the Skagosi.
Judging by their savage appearance, he already understood that these descendants of the First Men, who were said to be even fiercer than the wildlings beyond the Wall, held little respect for female rulers.
"The woman seated before you is Lady Sansa Stark, acting Lady of Winterfell."
His voice was cold.
"Why do you not kneel?"
To preserve Sansa's dignity, Garon stepped forward.
Sparte was briefly stunned before finally realizing that the young woman before him truly represented House Stark.
His heart immediately sank.
A trace of doubt and disappointment flashed across his face as he wondered whether crossing the Bay of Seals all the way from Skagos had been a mistake.
Still, remembering the instructions given by the tribal elders before his departure, he suppressed those thoughts.
"For the sake of my people..."
He slowly knelt.
"Sparte, chief of the Skagosi, greets Lady Stark."
Behind him, the Skagosi guards also knelt.
Sansa steadied herself before replying calmly.
"Rise."
"What do you mean by seeking Winterfell's aid? Has someone attacked Skagos?"
Anxiety immediately appeared in Sparte's eyes.
"No..."
"It is a dragon."
"That monster has nested upon our island for over a century, burning our villages and devouring our people."
"Skagos is bleeding."
"Skagos is dying."
"We cannot defeat such an ancient creature ourselves, Lady Stark."
Hope gradually returned to his expression.
"According to the oldest oaths sworn between the First Men of Skagos and House Stark, we crossed the sea to seek your help."
"Please..."
"Help us slay that dragon."
Silence filled the Great Hall.
Sansa stared at him in astonishment.
Even Maester Luwin found the claim unbelievable.
"A dragon?"
Sparte nodded solemnly.
"Yes."
"A dragon."
"I beg House Stark to honor the ancient oath and send warriors to help us hunt it."
"As chief of the Skagosi, I swear that once the dragon is driven away, all twenty thousand Skagosi will answer House Stark's call."
A sharp light flashed across Garon's eyes.
The instant he heard the word dragon, every scattered clue within his mind suddenly connected.
The dragon upon Skagos.
Euron Greyjoy's reckless invasion of the North.
His desperate determination.
Everything fit together.
"So that's why Euron reached the North so quickly."
"So that's why he insisted upon staking everything against Winterfell."
"He already knew."
"He knew there was a dragon on Skagos."
"That must have been why he convinced Balon Greyjoy to launch the invasion from three directions."
"His true objective was never merely the North."
"He wanted to cross it."
"He wanted Skagos."
"He wanted the dragon."
The realization struck Garon like a bolt of lightning.
"If that's true..."
"Everything finally makes sense."
Just then, hurried footsteps echoed outside the hall.
A servant responsible for Winterfell's rookery rushed inside.
"Lady Sansa!"
"A raven has arrived from the Iron Islands!"
Sparte still wished to continue speaking, but one glance from Garon forced him into silence.
Garon immediately stepped forward and accepted the letter before anyone else.
His eyes swept over only a few lines.
"The Iron Islands..."
"King Euron Greyjoy?"
His pupils contracted.
An astonishing conclusion formed instantly.
Balon Greyjoy was dead.
Without hesitation, he handed the letter to Sansa.
As she finished reading, her expression changed just as dramatically.
Seeing this, Maester Luwin hurriedly asked,
"What does it say?"
Sansa answered gravely.
"On the surface, it is a proposal for peace."
"But the wording is arrogant."
"Their willingness to negotiate is extremely limited."
"And..."
She paused.
"Euron Crow's Eye has become King of the Iron Islands."
"What?"
Maester Luwin's face turned pale with disbelief.
His shocked cry left Sparte and the Skagosi even more bewildered.
At that very moment, Garon understood everything.
"The time has come."
"Fortune truly favors me."
"With this news..."
"I refuse to believe Asha Greyjoy can remain calm."
He immediately turned toward Sansa.
"Lady Sansa."
"Maester Luwin."
"Please arrange proper accommodations for our guests from Skagos."
"Their request concerns a matter of great importance, and we must discuss it carefully."
"As for this letter..."
His eyes narrowed.
"I need to speak with our guest."
"Asha Greyjoy."
Sansa trusted Garon's judgment completely.
She handed him the letter before ordering servants to escort Sparte and the Skagosi to suitable quarters.
The rapid exchange among Garon, Sansa, and Maester Luwin left the Skagosi utterly confused.
Yet Sparte became certain of one thing.
The true decision maker in Winterfell was the young lord who had greeted him outside the gates.
Without paying further attention to the Skagosi, Garon handed Sansa's safety over to Jon Snow and the guards before turning toward the dungeons.
As he walked, countless thoughts raced through his mind.
"Balon's death."
"Euron's coronation."
"The timing is far too perfect."
"If nothing unexpected occurred..."
"Euron almost certainly murdered his own brother."
"If I can persuade Asha to return to the Iron Islands and seize the Seastone Chair..."
"I can obtain Dragonbinder."
"And afterward..."
"I can travel to Skagos and claim that dragon."
His pace remained steady, though his thoughts surged like storm waves.
"But how do I convince her?"
"And even if I help her reclaim the Seastone Chair..."
"How do I stop her from turning against me once she regains her freedom?"
He understood perfectly that this represented his greatest opportunity to bring the Iron Islands under his influence.
At the same time, it was also his greatest gamble.
"If I win..."
"Dragonbinder becomes mine."
"The Iron Islands become mine."
"My path afterward will be far smoother."
"If I lose..."
"Everything ends here."
"I may not even leave the Iron Islands alive."
His footsteps never slowed.
Within only a few breaths, he had already made his decision.
"Opportunity never waits."
"With the strength I possess today, I cannot afford to ignore even a single chance if I intend to claim the Iron Throne."
"I'll gamble."
A fierce light flashed within Garon's crimson eyes as he quickened his pace.
Meanwhile, deep within the dungeon, Asha Greyjoy stood beside the narrow window of her cell, silently watching the gloomy sky outside.
Although her captors had treated her reasonably well, the humiliation of imprisonment and the uncertainty surrounding her family's fate gnawed relentlessly at her heart.
While she remained lost in thought, steady footsteps echoed through the corridor.
Moments later, the cell door swung open.
A familiar figure stepped inside.
It was Garon.
Asha narrowed her eyes.
Standing with the corridor light behind him, his expression remained hidden in shadow.
"Glover?"
She snorted disdainfully.
"I assumed you'd died somewhere on the battlefield and would never return to see me again."
The corners of Garon's lips lifted slightly.
Ignoring her provocation, he quietly shut the door before walking to the table in the center of the room.
With a sharp smack, he threw the letter onto the tabletop.
The atmosphere instantly froze.
"Read it, Asha."
His voice was terrifyingly calm.
"Your beloved uncle..."
"King Euron Greyjoy..."
"Has sent us a letter."
The words struck Asha like thunder.
Her expression instantly froze.
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