The Pursuit

Eastwatch Village lay northeast of Winterfell, about a day's walk away, or half that on horseback.

Built between the White Blade River and Goat Head Mountain, the village thrived on fishing and mountain goods, making it fairly prosperous.

A dozen farmhouses, a meeting hall, and a watchtower made up the village, with a few militiamen chosen by the headman keeping order.

Sam, who had come to Winterfell for help, was the youngest of Eastwatch's militiamen.

Now, Sam—who couldn't ride—sat behind Captain Jory, staring blankly at the ruins of Eastwatch Village, where black smoke still curled from scattered spots and corpses littered the charred ground.

"Seven hells! This is a bloody nightmare."

Theon rode around searching, found no survivors, and couldn't help but sigh.

Jon said nothing, but his clenched jaw and furrowed brow betrayed a burning rage.

This peaceful, prosperous village had been wiped out in a single night.

Robb rode slowly through the wreckage, the air thick with the stench of burnt flesh and faint hints of cooked meat.

Faced with the grim scene, he showed only anger, no discomfort, and instead observed carefully.

Most of the bodies were charred. The few untouched by fire were mangled limbs and torsos, covered in wounds of all sizes.

He couldn't imagine what the villagers had endured before death.

The horror weighed heavily on Robb's heart, but his mind raced. His sharp eyes swept the ruins, missing nothing.

He was determined to bring the perpetrators to justice.

"Waaah! Why, why?!"

A heart-wrenching cry came from behind—Sam's voice.

"My lords, over here!"

A Winterfell soldier seemed to have found something, shouting to Robb and the others.

They spurred their horses toward him.

It was Eastwatch's meeting hall, built of mud-coated rough stone. Though the outside was blackened with soot, the fire hadn't reached inside.

Robb arrived later, dismounted, and was about to enter when he saw Jon walk out with a dark face, blocking Sam, whose cheeks were still wet with tears.

"What's in there? Let me in! Let me in!"

Sam, held back by Jon, finally snapped, struggling violently to get inside.

Smack!

Jory struck from behind, knocking the hysterical Sam unconscious.

Robb looked at the limp Sam, bit his lip, and stepped into the hall.

Inside, a dozen Winterfell soldiers stood in silence, fury burning in every pair of eyes.

Robb pushed past one soldier and saw a scene straight out of hell.

Over a dozen naked women, all dead.

They were spread-eagled, nailed to the three mud-plastered walls by their limbs.

Two or three had their throats slit. The rest were riddled with holes, some disemboweled with entrails spilling out, others half-flayed.

Creak! Creak!

Robb felt a fire rise in his gut, grinding his teeth so hard they squeaked.

Then he noticed one of the women—her finger twitched.

"Someone's still alive!"

Robb rushed over in three long strides to the woman covered in bloody wounds.

"Whi..."

The woman, her face hidden by tangled hair, saw the Direwolf sigil on Robb's chainmail, gasped out a single word, and slumped dead.

Before he could speak, that word triggered a memory—the hoofprints he'd noted earlier, heading southwest.

"White... White Harbor! The killers headed for White Harbor on Bite Bay."

With the North's map fresh in his mind, Robb pieced it together instantly.

"Captain Jory, leave two men to watch Sam and gather the bodies. The rest of us ride now!"

Night fell. In a sheltered hollow near the lower White Blade River.

Over a dozen soldiers in leather armor sat cross-legged around a crackling campfire, eating dinner.

Dick tore a savage bite from a roasted lamb leg, then grabbed a wineskin of cheap ale and gulped it down.

A middle-aged man with yellowed teeth eyed Dick's lamb leg enviously.

He pried at a hard piece of black bread, smiling as he asked, "Captain Dick, is it true your cousin's an officer in King's Landing's City Watch?"

"What's there to doubt? Captain Dick sends ravens to his cousin all the time. That cousin's a big shot in King's Landing."

Hearing someone question Dick, a trusted subordinate immediately spoke up in reply.

"Heh heh, this time we're risking our heads following Captain Dick, so we just want to be clear in our minds to feel at ease."

Slap! Slap!

Dick, who had been feasting heartily, saw the yellow-toothed man and the other soldiers all staring at him, waiting for an answer.

He put down the roasted leg of lamb in his hand, clapped his grease-covered palms, and said loudly, "This time, starting from the Dreadfort territory, we've looted three villages. All the coin we've taken will be split evenly among everyone once we reach King's Landing. I reckon that's what you care about most."

"Second, as long as you're still willing to follow me, I'll find a way to get you into the City Watch. You've been with me all these years, and you know that when I, Dick, make a promise, I always keep it."

After Dick finished, the seated soldiers exchanged glances and, with remarkable understanding, cheered in unison.

"Long live Captain Dick!"

"Swear to follow Lord Dick to the death!"

"Lord Dick..."

Dick raised a hand to gesture for quiet. Seeing the soldiers' excitement settle slightly, he continued, "Now's not the time to celebrate. That bastard bastard Ramsay Snow is surely already chasing us.

The village we looted yesterday belongs to House Stark. Once they get word in a couple of days, they'll definitely come after us too.

Offending these two great houses, there's no place left for us in the North.

But by the time they catch up to White Harbor, we'll already be on a ship bound for King's Landing."

"Haha, then we'll book two or three whores in advance at White Harbor and write greetings to the 'lords' of those two great houses on their asses."

"Ah, we've been unlucky, really. Just when it was our shift, those Wildlings ambushed us."

"Yeah! Damn Wildlings, no idea how they got past Last Hearth. Lucky we ran fast."

"They're not men, they're beasts. I saw Old Hank get his neck bitten clean through by a Wildling."

"Ah, if we hadn't fled then, those Wildlings would've eaten us. But if we fled, that bastard bastard would flay us. Thank the gods Captain Dick is here."

Dick's words had a strong effect, calming the soldiers considerably. After hearing him out, they started chatting among themselves.

Split the coin evenly? Hmph, once we reach King's Landing...

Dick swept his gaze across the Dreadfort soldiers, including his own trusted men, a glint of coldness flashing in his eyes.

Judging that the pursuers were at least two days' ride away, Dick and his men felt no urgency. After eating and drinking, they didn't even post a watch, each dropping to the ground and snoring away.

As time passed, the night gradually faded, and the first rays of sunlight broke over the horizon.

Clop! Clop! Clop!

A faint sound grew louder. The more alert Dick jolted awake from his dreams, sitting up like a startled rabbit, craning his neck to see where the noise came from.

In the direction of the rising sun, a group of black figures charged straight toward them.

Realizing at once, Dick sprang to his feet and roared, "Get up! Get up now! Enemy attack! Enemy attack!"