Galon parted from Bran with many thoughts weighing on his mind.
As he walked toward the training yard of Winterfell, he continued thinking about what had happened the previous night.
'What Bran said is probably true... but what exactly do the old gods want? And what happened to my soul last night...'
Whenever Galon thought about the strange change in his spirit, a trace of unease surfaced in his heart.
He did not trust the old gods.
To be precise, Galon did not trust any gods.
He trusted only himself.
Even though the blessing granted by the old gods could protect him from the influence or control of other deities, Galon still remained wary.
'The blessing of the old gods...'
He sighed softly.
'Since I cannot avoid it, I might as well accept it for now.'
'Besides, with this protection... Melisandre probably won't be able to use magic on me anymore.'
If he wished to claim the Iron Throne one day, Stannis would inevitably become his enemy.
But Stannis had Melisandre at his side.
In Galon's eyes, that woman who worshiped the Lord of Light and wielded strange magic was more troublesome than ten thousand soldiers.
At that moment, Galon stepped out of the corridor and onto the training ground.
"My lord, the soldiers are assembled and ready. Mihawk has already departed for the White River Crossing..."
"Oh... my lord, you seem... more energetic today?"
Ron had been organizing the formation when he noticed Galon approaching. He quickly ran forward to report.
But as soon as he stood before Galon, he noticed something different. Compared with yesterday, Galon carried a more imposing presence.
When Galon's red eyes met his, Ron felt a strange sense of awe deep in his heart.
"Oh?"
"Perhaps I simply had a good night's rest," Galon replied casually.
He did not think much about it and walked past Ron to inspect the troops.
But as his gaze shifted, he noticed something unexpected.
On the right side of the training ground, Clay Cerwyn stood with more than two hundred surviving soldiers from Cerwyn.
"Clay, why are you here?" Galon asked with a slight frown.
In last night's plan, he had only permitted the remaining two hundred Cerwyn soldiers to join the expedition.
Clay himself had not been included.
Yet Clay's eyes burned with the fire of revenge.
"My lord, Cerwyn is my home. How can I hide in Winterfell and do nothing?"
"I want revenge."
Galon's eyes flickered as he considered the request.
After a moment, he nodded.
"You may come with me. But everything must follow my orders."
Clay nodded immediately. "Yes. Everyone from Cerwyn will obey your command, my lord."
Seeing this, Galon took the reins from the stable boy and mounted his horse.
"Army, advance!"
At his command, a thousand soldiers marched out through the main gate of Winterfell.
Sansa, Jon, and Maester Luwin stood upon the walls to see them off.
When the last of the soldiers had left the castle, Galon turned and nodded to Jon before leading the army toward Cerwyn Castle.
Jon ordered the gates closed and watched them ride away.
Only when the army had disappeared into the distance did he escort Sansa back toward the inner keep.
Meanwhile, Galon rode forward in silence with his army.
They had departed at dawn.
By early afternoon, the thousand soldiers finally reached the open fields north of Cerwyn.
As the outline of the castle became clearer, a sense of unease slowly spread through Galon's chest.
"It's too quiet."
He raised his hand, signaling the army to halt, and lifted a spyglass to observe the castle.
"What do you see?" Ron asked as he rode up beside him.
Galon handed him the spyglass.
"I think Euron has already fled."
There were no kraken banners on the walls.
No guards stood ready.
Only silence.
And carried by the cold wind came a faint, sickening smell of burning and decay.
"Damn the Ironborn!"
Ron cursed angrily after looking through the spyglass. Several charred bodies hung from the battlements.
"Spread out the cavalry and stay alert," Galon ordered.
"Send a small scouting group into the city first. Once we confirm there are no enemies, we move in."
He understood Euron's cruelty well.
Cerwyn had likely become a living hell.
Sure enough, when the scouting party returned, their faces were pale. One soldier even had traces of vomit on his lips.
"My lord..." The squad leader struggled to report. "There are no enemies inside... only ruins."
Galon's expression darkened.
"Army, enter the city. Maintain battle formation and stay vigilant."
Half an hour later, the sight before them made everyone fall silent.
Cerwyn could hardly be called a castle anymore. It looked more like a massive frozen grave.
Ruined walls and shattered buildings lay everywhere. The courtyards and corridors were filled with unburied corpses.
Soldiers, but far more civilians.
Men, women, even children. Many had clearly been tortured before being discarded like refuse.
Frozen blood covered the ground in dark red sheets of ice. The smell of death lingered throughout the castle.
Even the smithy and kitchens had been completely destroyed.
There was nothing left of value.
No grain.
No furniture.
Before leaving, Euron had destroyed everything he could not carry away. Only despair and death remained.
"No..."
Clay stared in disbelief.
This had been his home.
He staggered from his horse and walked through the ruins like a wounded animal.
Every familiar place had become unrecognizable. His home had turned into a nightmare.
Inside the council chamber, chaos reigned.
The family banners had been torn apart and trampled. Tables and chairs had been smashed to feed the flames.
"Father... I'm sorry..."
"My home... it's gone..."
Clay's voice trembled. His body shook violently as grief and rage overwhelmed him.
He looked ready to collapse.
Then a steady hand gripped his shoulder.
Galon.
Galon did not offer empty comfort. His gaze swept across the devastation, and anger burned in his eyes as well.
He looked directly at Clay.
"Clay Cerwyn."
Clay turned toward him with vacant eyes.
"Remember this." Galon's voice was calm but powerful. "Crow's Eye left us a gift. He hopes we will fear his cruelty."
"But fear can destroy a man... or forge him."
Galon tightened his grip on Clay's shoulder. The pain helped bring him back to himself.
"Clay, do you want revenge?"
"Real revenge."
"The kind that returns to Euron everything he has done here. Do you want that?"
Clay's eyes slowly regained focus.
A fierce fire ignited within them.
"Yes," he choked. "I want him to pay for this with blood."
"Then throw away your tears and weakness," Galon said sharply. "Your father is fighting in the south for Robb. You are now the lord of Cerwyn."
"All these dead people are your responsibility."
"Take up your sword. Wash this shame away with the blood of Euron and his kraken banners."
Galon's words struck Clay deeply.
Yet even in his fury, Clay realized something. Cerwyn alone could never achieve that revenge.
'The Bear Slayer is loyal and righteous. He...will help me.'
With that thought, Clay bowed deeply.
"You are right, Lord Galon."
"From this day forward, Cerwyn will follow your command. Please allow me to follow you and avenge my people."
A trace of satisfaction flashed in Galon's eyes.
He helped Clay stand.
"The North remembers."
"Robb entrusted me with this duty. I will do everything in my power to wipe out the Ironborn from the North."
"Clay, now do what you must."
He gestured toward the corpses outside. "Gather the bodies. Count the losses. Summon the remaining bannermen of Cerwyn."
"Revenge requires strength."
"...And patience."
Clay nodded heavily and went to carry out the orders.
'Cerwyn is mine now,' Galon thought with a faint smile as he watched Clay depart.
The castle could now serve his cause. Only one small step remained before Clay would become completely loyal.
Revenge.
__________
Upto 20 chapters ahead on patreon :-
patreon.com/Xorath