Three days later.
Galon's army descended upon Torrhen's Square like a judgment from the Seven.
He reined in his horse and stared at the ruined castle before him.
Sections of the walls had collapsed. Blackened scorch marks covered the stone.
On the battlements, several indistinct corpses still hung, swaying gently in the cold wind like grim decorations.
The gates of the castle were tightly shut.
Galon's army formed ranks outside, their silent presence making the broken fortress feel even more lifeless.
After a short while, the gates opened slightly.
A few riders emerged.
At their head was Ser Lambert, his face haggard, his eyes bloodshot and filled with shame.
Behind him followed three nobles, still decently dressed but pale-faced and uneasy.
These were the bannermen who had hidden within the castle.
"Lord Galon!"
Lambert dismounted first and dropped to one knee. His voice was hoarse. "I have failed. I have shamed the name of Tallhart and the trust of Winterfell. I..."
Galon did not dismount.
He remained seated on his horse, his cold gaze passing over Lambert and fixing on the nobles behind him.
"Rise, Ser Lambert," Galon said without warmth.
"I have read your letter. Tell me, among those hanging on the walls... are any of them your kin?"
Lambert closed his eyes in pain.
"My brother's son and daughter... my wife... and my eldest son..."
"Then tell me this!"
Galon's voice suddenly rose like a blade of ice.
"Which of you watched your liege lord's family hang from those walls and still lacked the courage to ride out and fight?"
His shout echoed across the frozen plain.
The nobles behind Lambert trembled. Their faces turned pale as they glanced at the army behind Galon.
One of them, a tall man in his thirties, forced himself to speak.
"Lord Glover... it is not that we lacked courage. The Ironborn were too brutal. Our forces were already depleted. We needed time to recover."
"And... how could we be sure it was not a trap?"
The others quickly nodded.
"Yes, exactly."
"Ser Lambert's own son was killed by Crow's Eye in such a trap!"
"We were already doing well just holding the castle..."
"And my lands have been burned to ash. I have only a handful of men left. Why should we..."
"Silence!"
Galon's voice cut through them like thunder.
They fell quiet instantly.
Galon studied Lambert for a moment, already aware that the letter he had received had concealed much of the truth.
These men were driven partly by fear of the Ironborn, and partly by fear of further losses to their own strength.
But whatever their reasons, their inaction had given Galon the opportunity to intervene.
"House Tallhart stood to the last to defend Torrhen's Square," Galon said coldly.
"They were willing to die to uphold the honor of the North."
"And you?"
His voice was calm, but every word struck like a blow.
"You feared an ambush."
"You feared losses."
"You feared sacrifice without reward."
His gaze swept across them like a blade. "You are afraid. And we are not?"
"Lord Karstark's sons all died in the Riverlands, yet he still sent men when Winterfell called for aid.
In the Battle of Bullhorn Mountain, House Bolton lost more than seventy percent of its forces, yet they did not retreat.
And my Glover soldiers fought Asha, then rode without rest to relieve Winterfell, and then fought again at Bullhorn Mountain.
Do you think they felt no fear?"
Galon's voice hardened.
"They were afraid. But they feared even more that the North would fall, and that their families would become slaves."
Each word struck the nobles like a slap.
None dared meet his eyes.
"The North faces a crisis not seen in a thousand years.
War in the south. Invasion from the Iron Islands.
If we do not stand united, if each of us only seeks to preserve our own strength...
Then we might as well open Moat Cailin and let our enemies march in."
Silence followed.
It was suffocating.
"Ser Lambert Tallhart!"
"Yes, my lord!"
"I hereby appoint you acting lord of Torrhen's Square in the name of Winterfell and as commander of the Northern armies."
"You will immediately assess all available fighting men in the castle. Any concealment will be treated as treason."
A flash of excitement crossed Lambert's face.
"Yes, my lord."
Galon then turned his gaze to the nobles behind him.
"House Tallhart offered you a chance to preserve your dignity. And yet you refused it..."
"...Then I will help you keep your dignity."
He turned to his soldiers.
"Seize them."
Glover soldiers rushed forward at once.
The nobles struggled, but were quickly restrained.
"My lord, have mercy!"
"Ser Lambert, we have served your house for generations!"
"Spare us!"
Galon waved his hand, and the soldiers gagged them.
He looked back at Lambert and asked calmly, "How do you think they should be dealt with?"
Lambert hesitated, glancing at the captured men.
In the end, he lowered his voice.
"I leave it to you, my lord."
Galon nodded, satisfied.
"Their cowardice has dishonored the North and betrayed the blood shed by our warriors."
He pointed at them.
"Their blood will be used to cleanse that shame."
"Jon, carry out the sentence. Gather everyone in Torrhen's Square. Let them witness this."
"Hang them."
The soldiers dragged the struggling nobles toward the gates.
At the same time, the remaining soldiers of the castle were driven out to watch.
Soon, three new bodies hung from the battlements, swaying in the wind.
Galon stood atop the wall, looking down at the gathered soldiers.
"The North remembers. The shame of Torrhen's Square can only be washed away with blood."
"Yours... or the enemy's."
"You have only one choice. Now tell me your answer."
For a moment, there was silence.
Then the soldiers erupted.
"Revenge!"
"We want revenge!"
Their voices rose again and again.
Only after several chants did Galon raise his hands to quiet them.
"At dawn tomorrow, we march for the Stony Shore. We will sweep the Ironborn from the land."
"Sweep them away!"
Galon watched their roaring response with satisfaction.
And while he stirred the fighting spirit of Torrhen's Square, far to the south in King's Landing, preparations for another storm were already underway.
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