The pounding of hooves echoed across the landscape.
In just one hour, Galon led his cavalry to the stream mentioned by the old farmer.
About fifty or sixty Ironborn were laughing as they forced a group of farmers to fell nearby trees, intending to build rafts to escape downstream.
When they heard the approach of horses, they instinctively turned around, only for a familiar banner to burst into view.
"Damn it, it's Glover!"
"Run! Run!"
The moment they saw the Glover sigil, the Ironborn were scared out of their wits.
Some dove into the adjacent woods, while others, in a desperate panic, leaped into the rushing river.
Ignoring the bone-chilling cold of the water, they attempted to swim to the opposite bank.
"Kill them!"
Galon's eyes were like ice.
With a wave of his hand, his cavalry drew their bows and loosed arrows at the Ironborn.
The arrows fell like rain. Accompanied by screams of agony, the river water was instantly stained red.
In the blink of an eye, the majority of the Ironborn attempting to cross the river fell, their bodies swept away by the current.
Only a few, relying on their superior swimming skills, managed to dive deep and head downstream.
Galon turned his gaze toward the Ironborn who had vanished into the woods and commanded, "Go. Leave none alive."
The cavalry behind him immediately spurred their horses, surrounding the entire forest.
Three squads of riders plunged into the trees. The sounds of slaughter rose quickly and ended just as fast.
In moments, the game of cat and mouse was over.
"My Lord!"
Shanks approached, leading his men as they escorted three individuals wearing filthy mail armor.
"Hmm?" Galon looked at the three captives with confusion before questioning Shanks, "Who are they?"
Shanks explained, "These three are not Ironborn. They are soldiers from Barrowton."
"According to the Ironborn prisoners, these men helped them raid and pillage just to save their own skins."
"Hang them," Galon said, his voice cold and brooks no argument. "Then, gather everyone here."
Following orders, Shanks had the three men strung up from a large tree by the river. Then, the numb and traumatized farmers were herded in front of the tree.
"People!"
Galon stood atop a rock before the tree, looking out at his cavalry and the rescued farmers.
"The North has been invaded by the Ironborn. I act on the orders of Stark of Winterfell to purge these raiders and protect our homes!"
"But these men—"
He turned and pointed at the three hanging figures, his voice booming.
"They were supposed to protect our lands. Instead, they helped the Ironborn burn their own villages and ravage the women of their own home!"
"Tell me, do they deserve to die?"
A roar went up.
Not just from Galon's cavalry, but even the rescued farmers stared at the three men with eyes full of hatred, shouting curses.
"Kill them! Kill them!"
"Hang them!"
"Yes, hang them all!"
Hearing the furious roars of the crowd, the three hanging men turned deathly pale.
The smallest among them trembled so violently that he lost control of his bladder.
Galon caught the scent of urine in the air and didn't bother saying anything more.
"Hang them alongside the bodies of the Ironborn on the nearby trees."
"I want everyone who passes through here, whether they are fleeing Ironborn or restless bandits, to see clearly—this is the price for committing atrocities on Northern soil."
The order was executed swiftly.
As the last rays of the setting sun faded, grim corpses were suspended from the bare branches.
It stood as a terrifying and solemn declaration that this land had found a new master, one who would restore order through blood and iron.
Once the task was finished, Jon Snow and the Karstark captain arrived in haste with the remaining infantry.
"My Lord!"
Jon's expression was grim.
He took one look at the bodies hanging from the trees and spoke to Galon in a low voice.
"Sir Helman Tallhart has sent a messenger. The situation at Torrhen's Square... it is not good."
"Not good?" Galon frowned. "Did Crow's Eye actually go to Torrhen's Square?"
Jon shook his head and beckoned the travel-worn messenger forward.
The messenger hurried over, pulling a stained letter from his tunic.
"Lord Glover, I beg you, please save Torrhen's Square. Lord Helman... he is nearly driven mad by rage, but he is powerless."
The messenger's rambling words left Galon confused.
His eyes flickered as he took the letter, offering a word of comfort. "Don't worry. Speak slowly. What exactly happened at Torrhen's Square?"
He tore open the envelope and, by the light of a nearby torch, read the contents of the parchment.
Now, the messenger didn't need to answer. Galon knew exactly what had occurred.
As his eyes scanned the words on the page, the air around him seemed to freeze.
The look on his face was replaced by a mixture of utter shock and mounting fury.
"Good! Very good!"
Furious, Galon slammed the letter against the trunk of a nearby tree.
The impact shook the tree so hard the corpses above swayed, causing the surrounding officers and soldiers to flinch.
"Lord Glover, what happened?" the Karstark captain asked, filled with curiosity.
Galon threw the letter to him. "Read it yourself. A pack of scoundrels!"
The Karstark captain skimmed the lines quickly. As he finished, his face went slack with disbelief.
"How is this possible? Is Torrhen's Square... this cowardly?"
He finally understood why Galon was so angry. Even he found it hard to believe.
Helman Tallhart's letter described the situation in detail. The bodies of his kin had been hung from the walls, and the castle was in ruins.
But what drove him to despair was that the surviving knights and petty lords from the surrounding lands had retreated into the crumbling fortress with their remaining troops, utterly terrified by the cruelty of the Ironborn.
They watched with their own eyes as small bands of defeated Ironborn passed beneath the castle walls, fleeing toward the coast, yet no one dared to ride out and give chase.
Helman found himself unable to command them.
He could only seethe in futile anger and write this letter, pleading for Galon to take charge.
"Oathbreakers!"
The Karstark captain snarled, his voice thick with contempt for those at Torrhen's Square.
"These oathbreakers are actually blackmailing their own lord, allowing the enemies who ravaged their families to walk away unhindered!"
"Lord Glover, I suggest we head to Torrhen's Square immediately to take command!"
Jon's face was flushed with anger as well. "That's right. We must go as quickly as possible. They have brought shame upon the North!"
Though Galon was equally enraged, he maintained his composure.
He saw within this crisis an opportunity to intervene in the affairs of Torrhen's Square.
He sighed softly. "The honor of the North is being eaten away by these parasites."
He paused, meeting the gazes of the Karstark captain and Jon.
"This cannot continue. Leave the remnants in the Barrowlands to the people here to clean up. We leave for Torrhen's Square tomorrow."
His gaze became sharp and resolute. The previous fatigue vanished, replaced by an undeniable decisiveness.
"Order the army!"
"We break camp at dawn. Target: Torrhen's Square!"
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