First Men, a desolate graveyard, amidst snowfields and scorched earth.
The cold wind howled, whipping up snowflakes that slapped against Galon's face.
Since splitting his forces five days ago, he has led a thousand Northern soldiers, including Glover, Karstark, and other minor nobles, like a gray torrent, rampaging across this ancient and desolate land.
For five whole days, Galon efficiently and ruthlessly wiped out the Ironborn everywhere.
They combed through the desolate graves, hills, and valleys like a comb, successively defeating four groups of Ironborn soldiers of varying sizes.
These pirates, now without unified command, were either still trying to escape to the coastline or had completely degenerated into beasts, occupying abandoned villages or ancient caves and living by plunder.
However, as the operation progressed, Galon soon realized that something was wrong.
Besides Ironborn, it seems that a considerable number of farmers who have lost their homes are also turning into bandits who plunder others.
They are now leading even more people to wander the North.
What exactly does Barrenhome do?
" Has Lady Barbarre lost her mind from drinking too much alcohol?"
"What kind of time is this, and she's still thinking about giving Stark the cold shoulder and holding him back?"
Galon quickly realized it was Bear Island. Lady Barbarre is doing the same thing again, dragging her feet and not putting in any effort.
But when was that, and when is it now?
When the North is at peace, Barrenhome minds his own business, and even Duke Ned wouldn't say much.
Now that the Ironborn have invaded and caused chaos in the North, Lady Barbarre's continued actions will only encourage the Ironborn to roam freely, dragging farmers into even greater trouble.
Galon was furious, but he couldn't command Lady Barbarre.
After all, he was only the military commander in charge of eliminating Ironborn and had no right to interfere in or inquire about the internal affairs of Barrenhome.
"Go, send someone to inform Barrenhome to send troops as soon as possible to stabilize the situation."
"Tell Lady Barbarre that if the farmers turn into bandits, she won't have enough people to grow food when winter is over!"
In the end, Galon could only suppress his anger and send someone to persuade Lady Barbarre to send troops as soon as possible to quell the peasants who had turned into bandits.
After the soldiers left to carry out their orders, Galon continued leading the northern natives toward Torrhens Square.
He wanted to find out exactly what had happened at Torrhens Square and why there was still no news.
They traveled for another half day.
The army arrived at a small village called "Acorn Village".
Galon reined in his horse, his red eyes sweeping over the horrific scene before him, and he couldn't help but sigh.
Today, only a few charred logs remain in the entire village, stubbornly pointing towards the gray sky.
The air was filled with a nauseating, sweet, and burnt smell—the smell of charred wood, grain, and... something else.
The snow was filthy with messy footprints and drag marks, and several dark red craters testified to the misfortune that had occurred there.
The frozen body of a peasant woman hung from a tree at the village entrance, her eyes staring blankly at the sky, as if questioning the gods.
Upon seeing this, Jon Snow beside him couldn't help but grit his teeth and curse.
"Those damned beasts!"
Galon remained silent; he had seen far too many similar tragedies in recent days.
He waved his hand, and a squad of soldiers entered the village and began cautiously searching the ruins, hoping to find survivors.
Soon, a faint sobbing sound came from a half-collapsed cellar.
The soldiers carefully moved aside the debris and pulled out a skinny boy who looked to be about ten years old.
He was trembling all over, his face covered in soot and frostbite streaks, and his large eyes were filled with extreme fear.
"There are still survivors!"
The soldier exclaimed in surprise.
Galon dismounted and strode over.
He removed his iron gloves, took his water pouch from his waist, squatted down, and offered it to the boy's mouth.
Drink slowly.
His voice was as slow as possible, contrasting with his cold, hard armor.
The boy greedily sipped a few mouthfuls of warm water, then coughed violently, his tears flowing even more profusely.
"They...they killed Dad...they took my sister...Mom, she..."
The boy was incoherent and trembling like a leaf in the wind.
Galon silently patted the boy's thin shoulder, took off his thick cloak, and wrapped it around him.
He could feel the boy's bones with a human touch.
Are there any other people?
Galon asked in a low voice.
The boy just shook his head, too scared to speak.
Just then, an old farmer, leaning on a charred wooden stick, emerged shakily from behind a broken wall.
One of his arms was slinged with a tattered cloth, seeping with blood.
"Lord... Lord Stark?"
The old farmer still thought Galon was the noble Stark; a glimmer of light flashed in his cloudy eyes, only to be swallowed up by despair.
"Sir, what happened here?"
Galon did not explain his identity. He stood up and walked to the old farmer.
"It's Ironborn, they arrived three days ago..."
The old farmer's voice was hoarse like a broken bellows, and his wrinkled face was filled with pain.
"There weren't many people, just a few dozen... They looked like ravenous wolves..."
"They looted everything edible—the barns, the cellars...they even took what was planted with grain."
"Men who resisted were killed, and women and children were dragged away."
"Mingming... my poor son..."
The old man choked back tears and couldn't say anything more. He just pointed with his finger to a blackened stain in the snow in the distance. Galon looked in that direction and saw a rough wooden doll half-buried in the snow.
His fist clenched tightly, his nails almost digging into his palm.
Having traveled through time, Galon has experienced many things and has long since adapted to his noble status.
He thought his heart had hardened enough to decide the life and death of others with a smile.
But now, Galon understands that he still cannot remain calm and indifferent in the face of the tragedy and injustice brought about by war.
Which direction did they go?
Galon's voice held the weight of a storm.
Compared to the tragic state of the village before him, Lady Barbarre's inaction was even more abhorrent to him.
"West side."
"They seem to be... going back to the Iron Islands... saying they're heading south along the river in the Great Lakes to the west..."
The old farmer, panting, pleaded with all his might.
"My lord, please... kill them!"
"We must kill them and avenge us..."
Galon took a deep breath and solemnly promised: "The North will never forget!"
He nodded to the old farmer, then spoke to Jon Snow.
"Give them some food, then send a small team to escort them to the nearest safe village."
Jon Snow nodded. "Yes, I'll have our people do it!"
Galon took one last look at the dilapidated village and coldly gave the order to pursue.
"Order the entire army to speed up!"
"I must reach the nearest ferry crossing before sunset and stain the entire river red with the blood of those beasts!"
"Remember, I do not take prisoners. Anyone carrying a weapon will be killed on sight!"
The army moved swiftly, as if whipped, and rushed toward the western ferry with a chilling killing intent.