The King's Road.
The smell of blood mingled with the scent of freshly turned earth, hanging heavily over the devastated battlefield.
The lion banners of the Lannisters and the black goat standards of the Brave Companions lay tangled together upon the ground, soaked in blood until neither could be distinguished from the other.
Galon's expression was cold and composed as he breathed steadily.
His heart still pounded like a war drum, and every muscle trembled from the strain of battle, yet after removing his helmet, his face appeared as calm as ever.
The Glover soldiers nearest him, along with the Skagosi warriors and the Tully guards, gazed upon their blood-soaked lord with nothing but reverence and admiration.
Even Ser Amory and the men who had surrendered lowered their heads in awe, not daring to meet his eyes.
Galon's gaze swept past them toward the northern lords gathering nearby.
The questions in his mind only grew stronger.
'Where's Robb?'
'Not only Robb... Edmure isn't here either.'
'Could it be...'
His eyes narrowed as a faint suspicion formed.
But he quickly suppressed the thought and turned his attention to the unconscious Kevan.
After confirming that the Lannister commander was still alive, he quietly let out a breath.
"You."
He pointed to several Glover soldiers.
"Guard Kevan Lannister carefully. Whatever happens, do not let him die."
After giving his instructions, he strode toward the assembled northern lords with firm, powerful steps.
"Haha..."
Lady Mormont laughed heartily.
She looked Galon up and down, and only relaxed after seeing that he was unharmed.
"Galon, your arrival couldn't have been more timely."
The surviving northern and riverlords also came forward one after another.
Smiling gratefully, they nodded respectfully toward him.
Galon, however, showed no joy at their victory. His eyes swept across every lord present like sharpened blades.
The icy gaze sent a chill through them all.
"Where is His Grace?"
"Who commanded this battle? Why did your army charge forward like a flock of sheep?"
"Do you have any idea you were simply offering yourselves up to be butchered by the Lannisters?"
There was no courtesy in his voice.
Only one sharp question after another. Each struck the assembled lords like a hammer.
The smiles faded from their faces. Only shame and grief remained.
Lady Mormont sighed deeply before answering.
"His Grace..."
"He... was murdered by Stannis's sorcery."
"What?"
Galon's body shook violently, as though struck by invisible lightning.
"And King Stark's younger brother, Rickon Stark... was also killed in the chaos of battle."
Lord Blackwood quietly continued where Lady Mormont had left off, wiping blood from his face.
Boom.
It felt as though an explosion had erupted inside Galon's mind.
Robb was dead?
Rickon too?
That meant Sansa was now the sole heir.
A tidal wave of overwhelming joy surged through the depths of his heart, threatening to burst free.
Everything he had planned...
Every scheme...
Every careful arrangement...
Had been accomplished by Stannis's ruthless hand in a way even more perfect than Galon himself had imagined.
Yet in the very next instant...
That joy was crushed beneath his iron will.
To everyone watching...
Galon's face first showed blank disbelief, as though he simply could not comprehend the terrible news.
Then came stunned shock.
Finally...
Every trace of emotion froze into indescribable grief.
His body staggered violently.
Ron hurried forward to catch him before he fell.
"My lord!"
"Are you alright?"
"No..." Galon's voice was hoarse. "It... can't be..."
"Robb..."
"How could he..."
Watching Galon struggle to speak through his grief, Rickard Karstark felt his own sorrow deepen.
Yet at the same time, he felt immense pride that House Stark possessed such a loyal bannerman.
"Lord Glover." He spoke solemnly. "Now is not the time for mourning."
"King Stark left his final command."
Galon slowly raised his tear-filled eyes.
"What command?"
Rickard drew a deep breath.
"His Grace declared that your betrothed, Lady Sansa Stark, is his rightful heir. He also entrusted all the armies of the North to your command."
"And he charged you to avenge him...and lead us home."
"Vengeance..."
Galon repeated the word.
Though grief filled his face, his heart remained perfectly calm.
'The performance isn't convincing enough.'
'I need to push it further.'
He noticed the indifferent expressions on several riverlords' faces.
Slowly, he lifted his head toward the skies.
Blood stained his handsome face. Two streams of hot tears rolled silently down his cheeks.
The sight deeply moved everyone present.
'So the stories were true.'
'Glover and Stark truly were as close as brothers.'
'No one could fake sorrow like this...'
Many of the riverlords found themselves filled with newfound respect and admiration.
Without realizing it, their opinion of Galon rose considerably.
"My lord."
"As for vengeance, we can discuss that in time. But right now... We need your guidance."
Lord Bracken had survived the battle by sheer luck.
Most of his men had not.
Looking at the pitiful remnants of his household troops, grief filled his voice.
"To prevent another disaster, we need you to recover yourself and organize us."
"We cannot repeat what happened today."
The other lords immediately voiced their agreement.
"We stayed behind to await your arrival. Now that you're here, please tell us what to do next."
"This is still a battlefield. We can't remain here."
"The king's body... and Rickon Stark's... They still need to be dealt with."
Under the concern and urging of the assembled lords, Galon finally seemed to recover a measure of composure.
He wiped the tears from his face with the back of his hand.
Fire returned to his crimson eyes.
"In that case..."
His voice rang with unquestionable authority.
"My orders.
Lord Karstark. Send a troop of cavalry to the Ruby Ford immediately."
Secure our fleet and supplies. Do not allow the fleeing Lannisters to plunder them.
The rest of you...
Clear the battlefield. Count our losses. Take every Lannister prisoner into custody.
Especially Kevan Lannister."
Order after order flowed from his mouth with calm precision. Within moments, Galon had taken complete control of the battered army.
More importantly...
He had imposed his own will upon it.
The surviving northern and riverland soldiers began carrying away the wounded, burying the dead, and gathering prisoners.
Everything proceeded with disciplined efficiency.
During the cleanup, Galon quietly questioned the northern lords about everything that had happened.
When he learned that Roose Bolton had escorted Edmure north toward the Twins...
His heart skipped a beat.
'Roose Bolton simply left?'
'Was his real intention to use the Lannisters to eliminate everyone who remained?'
A suspicion formed immediately.
But he kept it to himself.
Only after the battlefield had been cleared and Karstark's cavalry returned with their report did Galon lead the army back to the crossing camp.
The moment they entered the camp, the assembled lords guided him straight toward the tent where Robb's body rested.
Several days had already passed since the deaths of Robb and Rickon.
Their bodies had long since been placed inside wooden coffins, awaiting the journey back to Winterfell.
Galon stopped before Robb's coffin.
Silently, he stared at it. His gaze seemed capable of seeing through the wood itself.
The entire tent fell silent.
Only sorrow remained.
Then...
Galon slowly dropped to one knee.
He drew the dagger from his belt.
Before anyone could react, he slashed open his left wrist without the slightest hesitation.
Blood immediately poured from the wound, dripping onto the earth before the coffin.
"The gods bear witness."
His solemn voice echoed throughout the tent.
"I, Galon Glover of Wolfswood... Swear before the Old Gods and the First Men."
He raised his bleeding wrist toward the heavens while looking directly at Robb's coffin.
"In this lifetime...
I swear to slay the false king Joffrey and Stannis.
I swear to defend the North and Winterfell until my dying breath.
If I break this oath...
May the gods abandon me forever."
When he finished, he stood and turned toward the assembled lords, holding up his bleeding arm.
"Let every lord here bear witness."
Every noble inside the tent stood frozen. They had all been deeply moved by his solemn oath.
"Vengeance!"
"Vengeance for the North!"
"Vengeance for our king!"
Someone shouted first, tears streaming down his face.
"Galon..."
"Protector of the King!"
The title spread like a single spark igniting dry grass.
"Galon, Protector of the King!"
"Galon, Protector of the King!"
The cries spread from the tent to the camp. From the camp to every corner of the crossing.
Every soldier.
Every survivor.
Every man shouted the name of the one who had given them hope once more.
The thunderous chorus became an unstoppable tide. It proclaimed the end of one age...
And the birth of another.
Galon slowly lowered his arm.
He listened to the deafening cheers echoing throughout the camp. His face remained filled with grief.
But deep beneath his lowered gaze...
A nearly tangible sense of triumph and satisfaction gleamed within his eyes.
'Robb...Rest easy.'
'I will lead the armies of the North to even greater heights...Until the Iron Throne itself is ours.'
'As for the road ahead...'
'Bear witness from beyond.'
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