Outside Winterfell, crows circled overhead.
The battlefield at dawn was a scene of devastation. Corpses lay everywhere among scattered weapons, and crushed remains stained the frozen ground.
With the harsh scraping of iron chains, the gate of the Hunter's Gate was lifted once again.
Galon rode out with one hundred cavalry, their horses stepping across frost-covered grass and hardened pools of blood as they began clearing the field where desperate fighting had taken place the previous night.
The steady rhythm of hooves echoed across the silent plain.
Galon inhaled the cold morning air and surveyed the battlefield before the gate.
Wherever he looked, Ironborn corpses lay scattered across the frozen earth.
Their bodies twisted into unnatural shapes, empty eyes staring toward the gray sky. Axes and curved blades lay beside them.
The snow had been stained dark red, the frozen blood glaring harshly against the white ground.
Galon had long grown accustomed to war and killing. The sight stirred nothing in him.
His expression calm, he began issuing orders. "First and second squads, check the Wolfswood exit."
"Third, fourth, and fifth squads, search the Winter Town. Be cautious."
"Sixth and seventh squads, inspect the main gate."
"Eighth squad, follow the direction of the Ironborn retreat and scout toward Cerwyn Castle. Watch for enemy movements."
"Ninth and tenth squads remain here with me."
The ten-man cavalry squads wasted no time and galloped toward their assigned tasks.
Galon watched them depart before leading the remaining twenty riders to count the bodies.
There were too few men to deal with the corpses immediately. For now, they would remain frozen in the winter air.
As for the Ironborn weapons and armor scattered across the ground, Galon showed little interest in them.
A quick glance told him that roughly three hundred Ironborn had died before the Hunter's Gate.
After another quarter hour, the first, second, sixth, and seventh squads returned with their reports.
"So," Galon muttered thoughtfully, "we killed about five hundred Ironborn last night."
"According to Maester Luwin, Euron brought no more than two thousand men. That means they likely have around twelve hundred left."
Galon frowned.
Had he known the enemy numbers were so small, he might have pressed the pursuit with his cavalry and inflicted greater losses.
"Too late now," he murmured.
"When Ron arrives, if Euron receives no reinforcements, he is finished."
Galon lifted his gaze toward the direction of Cerwyn Castle, his expression unreadable.
The problem is that he may try to join Victarion at Moat Cailin. And Victarion and his iron fleet are not an easy enemy.
Among Balon Greyjoy's brothers, Victarion was the strongest warrior. Even across all Westeros, few could match his strength.
Even Galon could not claim certain victory before facing him in battle.
With my current forces, I cannot fight both Victarion and Euron at once.
Once Cerwyn Castle is reclaimed, we must recruit more soldiers in Winterfell's name.
His gaze shifted toward the direction of the Dreadfort, and a faint expectation flickered in his mind.
I wonder if the Bastard of the Dreadfort will appear this time. If he does... that would be excellent.
Galon had already planned how he might control the Bastard of the Dreadfort. Few people understood that man better than he did.
While Galon was considering the larger strategy, a rider from the third squad arrived from the Winter Town.
"My lord, we discovered Northern captives driven there by the Ironborn last night. There are more than three hundred."
"The leaders among them are a Cerwyn bannerman and Toha of Torrhen's Square."
Galon's eyes brightened.
"Take me there."
He spurred his horse forward and led the cavalry toward the Winter Town.
Meanwhile, inside the ruined keep of Cerwyn Castle, Euron was meeting with his Ironborn captains.
"Deepwood Motte has come to Winterfell's aid," Euron said coldly. "That means Asha has failed."
"Even Aeron died at Winterfell. With our remaining strength, taking Winterfell will be difficult."
His lone eye swept across the uneasy captains.
"I propose we abandon Cerwyn Castle and Torrhen's Square. We should join Victarion as soon as possible. What do you say?"
None of the captains objected.
Ironborn were not skilled at defending castles. Staying would accomplish nothing. Better to unite with Victarion and attempt Winterfell again later.
"We follow you, Captain Euron."
"Yes. If Deepwood Motte had not arrived last night, we would have taken Winterfell."
Another captain added, "But should we send word to King Balon about Asha's defeat and Aeron's death?"
Euron's expression shifted slightly. His eye lingered on the speaker before he smiled faintly.
"No need yet. Asha's situation is uncertain. Send riders to contact both Asha and Victarion first."
"Once we know the truth, we will report to King Balon."
The captains agreed without suspicion.
Euron's smile widened.
"Before we leave, let us leave Lord Glover a small gift. Gather all the surviving people of Cerwyn Castle.
When Glover arrives, I want him to know what fear truly is."
The Ironborn laughed and left to carry out the order.
Soon the castle was once again filled with screams and flames.
Later that afternoon, the eighth cavalry squad reached a hillside overlooking Cerwyn Castle.
From there they heard cries echoing from within the walls and saw smoke rising into the sky. The Ironborn were slaughtering civilians again.
"We must report this to Lord Galon at once," the squad leader said.
They rode back without rest.
By the time they returned to Winterfell, evening had fallen. At that moment, a dark line appeared at the edge of the Wolfswood.
A banner soon became visible. A silver gauntlet on a red field.
The captain of the eighth squad burst into laughter.
"Lord Ron has arrived at last."
"Come. Let us greet them."
They spurred their horses toward the Hunter's Gate. Galon had already been waiting there.
"Ron, you finally made it."
He stepped forward with a smile.
Ron's arrival steadied the defenders' hearts and filled the greatest gap in Winterfell's strength.
With eight hundred infantry now present, Galon had the flexibility to either defend the castle or take the fight outside its walls.
Ron looked around at the Ironborn corpses and spoke with admiration.
"My lord, you truly did it. You held Winterfell against the Ironborn."
Galon laughed softly and clapped him on the shoulder.
"Come. Let us speak inside."
Ron nodded and led his eight hundred soldiers through the Hunter's Gate into Winterfell.
That night, the Great Hall was brightly lit as Winterfell held its first proper feast since the siege began.
The food was simple, but the mood had changed entirely.
Galon did not celebrate extravagantly. Instead, he invited Sansa and Maester Luwin to dine with all the commanders of the hundred-man companies and the officers under his command.
Because Bran had fallen into another deep sleep, only Sansa sat in the seat of honor.
Maester Luwin stood nearby, while Clay Cerwyn and his sister sat quietly at the end of the table.
Galon sat opposite Sansa and shared the modest meal with the officers.
After dinner, the servants cleared the table. A map of the lands around Winterfell was spread across it.
"Gentlemen," Galon said, tapping the table, "our scouts report that Euron has retreated to Cerwyn Castle."
"They are slaughtering civilians inside the city and may withdraw at any moment."
Clay sprang up in alarm, but Galon silenced him with a single glance.
Pointing at the map, Galon continued,
"Ironborn are poor defenders. I believe Euron will either retreat to Torrhen's Square for support or attempt to join Victarion at Moat Cailin."
"We must intercept him before he moves. With their current numbers, they cannot defeat us in open battle."
The officers smiled eagerly.
"My lord, give the order."
"Yes. I will gladly lead the vanguard and wipe out those sea devils."
Galon nodded in satisfaction at their enthusiasm.
He pointed to a location on the map.
"Cerwyn Castle lies near a branch of the White Knife. If Euron attempts to escape by river to join the Ironborn fleet..."
He looked at Mihawk.
"Mihawk, I assign you one hundred cavalry and one hundred archers. At dawn tomorrow, move here."
He tapped the map again.
"The White River crossing. It lies where the tributary meets the Kingsroad. If Euron uses the river, he must pass there. You will strike them from ambush."
"Yes, Lord Galon," Mihawk replied firmly.
Galon turned to Ron.
"Tomorrow you will march with me. Four hundred infantry, two hundred cavalry, and one hundred archers. We move on Cerwyn Castle."
Ron frowned slightly.
"My lord, is that not too few men? Should we not take more from the remaining troops?"
Galon shook his head.
"Winterfell must still be defended. Besides, our seven hundred men combined with the three hundred survivors gathered by House Cerwyn today will be enough."
Ron accepted the explanation.
Galon then looked at Jon.
"Jon, you will remain in Winterfell with the rest of the men. No one enters or leaves the castle without my command."
Jon nodded solemnly.
Galon raised his cup.
"For the North!!"
"For the North!!" The officers echoed.
Cups were lifted and drained together... And so the gathering came to an end.
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