The Pursuit

Eastwatch Village lay northeast of Winterfell. It was about a day's walk from Winterfell, or half a day on horseback.

The village stood between the White Blade River and Goat Head Mountain. Thanks to its fish and mountain produce, the whole village was fairly prosperous.

It had a dozen or so farmhouses, a Great Hall, and a watchtower. Its peace was kept by a handful of local guards chosen by the village head.

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

At that moment, Sam, who couldn't ride, sat behind Jory, staring blankly at the ruins of Eastwatch Village, where a few wisps of black smoke still rose among the charred corpses strewn across the ground.

"Seven hells! This place is a godawful sight."

Theon rode around looking for survivors, but couldn't find a single one. He couldn't help letting out a sigh.

Jon said nothing, but the way his brows were knitted and his teeth were clenched showed the fury raging inside him.

The peaceful, prosperous village of Eastwatch had ceased to exist in a single night.

Robb rode slowly through the ruins. The stench of burning still hung in the air, mingled with the faint smell of cooked meat.

Faced with such a horrific scene, he showed only anger and no sign of distress. Instead, he began examining it carefully.

Most of the bodies in the ruins were charred. The few that hadn't been burned were scattered limbs and remains, still bearing wounds of all sizes.

He couldn't imagine what the villagers of Eastwatch had endured before they died.

The terrible scene weighed heavily on Robb, but his mind was unusually active. His sharp gaze swept over the ruins, missing no suspicious detail.

He had made up his mind: the perpetrators would face the punishment they deserved.

A heart-wrenching cry rang out behind him. It was Sam.

"My lords, over here!"

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

At the sound of his shout, Robb and the others urged their horses toward him.

This was Eastwatch Village's Great Hall. Thanks to its construction, with rough stones wrapped in yellow clay, its exterior had been blackened by smoke, but the fire hadn't reached inside.

Robb was some distance away. By the time he reached the Great Hall and dismounted to go in, Jon was already coming out, his expression dark. He stopped Sam, whose face was still streaked with tears.

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

The pent-up feelings of Sam, held back by Jon, suddenly burst forth. He struggled desperately to get inside the Great Hall.

Smack!

Jory struck from behind, knocking the hysterical Sam unconscious.

Robb looked at the unconscious Sam, bit his lip, and stepped into the Great Hall.

More than ten Winterfell soldiers stood silently inside, anger blazing in every pair of eyes.

Robb pushed past a soldier in front of him and saw a scene straight out of hell.

More than ten women lay dead, naked.

They had been nailed by their limbs to wooden stakes and pinned in spread-eagle poses against three of the Great Hall's earthen walls.

Two or three had their throats slit. The rest were covered in bloody punctures, had been disemboweled with their guts spilled across the floor, or had most of their skin flayed away.

Creak! Creak!

Robb felt a fire flare up inside him. His teeth ground together.

Suddenly, he saw one of the women's fingers twitch.

"Someone's still alive!"

Robb covered the distance in three quick strides and hurried to the woman, whose body was riddled with bloody punctures.

"White..."

The woman, her face hidden beneath tangled hair and her body covered in bloody punctures, saw the direwolf sigil on Robb's chainmail. She weakly managed to utter a word, then her head drooped and she died.

Robb hadn't even had time to speak. At the sound of that word, the hoofprints he'd noticed earlier—one line heading southwest—immediately came back to him.

"White... White Harbor! The culprits went to White Harbor, on Bite Bay."

Recalling the map of the North in his mind, Robb understood at once.

"Captain Jory, leave two men to watch over Sam and deal with the bodies. Everyone else, move out!"

Night fell in a sheltered hollow near the lower reaches of the White Blade River.

More than ten soldiers in leather armor sat cross-legged around a crackling campfire, enjoying their dinner.

Dick tore a large bite from the roasted, golden-brown leg of lamb in his hand, then picked up a wineskin of cheap ale and gulped it down.

A middle-aged man with a mouthful of yellow teeth eyed the roasted leg of lamb in Dick's hand enviously.

He struggled to break apart the hard black bread he held, then asked Dick with a smile, "Captain Dick, is it true your cousin is an officer in the City Watch in King's Landing?"

"Why even ask? Captain Dick sends messages to his cousin by raven all the time. His cousin's a big shot in King's Landing."

Hearing someone question Dick, one of his trusted men immediately answered on his behalf.

"Heh. We're risking our necks by following Captain Dick on this job. I just want to make sure before we go any further."

Clap! Clap!

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

He set down his roasted leg of lamb, clapped his greasy hands, and said loudly, "We've looted three villages since we set out from the Dreadfort lands. When we get to King's Landing, we'll split all the money we've taken. I know that's what you care about most."

"Second, as long as you're willing to stick with me, I'll find a way to get you into the City Watch. You've been with me for years. You know I always keep my promises."

The soldiers exchanged glances, then cheered in unison.

"Long live Captain Dick!"

"We'll follow you to the death, Lord Dick!"

"Lord Dick..."

Dick raised a hand to quiet them. When their excitement had settled a little, he continued, "It's too early to celebrate. That bastard Ramsay Snow must already be pursuing us.

"The village we looted yesterday belonged to House Stark. Once they hear about it in a couple of days, they'll come after us too.

"We've made enemies of both great houses. There's nowhere left for us in the North.

"But by the time they reach White Harbor, we'll already be aboard a ship bound for King's Landing."

"Haha! We'll book two or three whores in White Harbor ahead of time and write a message to the 'lords' of both houses on their asses."

"Ah, we really were unlucky. Those Wildlings attacked while we were on watch."

"Yeah! I don't know how those damned Wildlings got past Last Hearth. Thank the gods we got away in time."

"They're not people, they're beasts. I saw Old Hank get his throat bitten out by one of them."

"Ah, if we hadn't run, those Wildlings would've eaten us. If we do run, that bastard Snow will flay us. Thank the gods we've still got Captain Dick."

Dick's words had a reassuring effect on the soldiers. After hearing him, they relaxed and chatted among themselves.

Split the money? Hmph. Once we get to King's Landing...

Dick looked around at the Dreadfort soldiers, including his trusted men. A cold glint flashed in his eyes.

Dick and his men judged that their pursuers were at least two days' ride behind them, so they felt no sense of urgency. After eating and drinking, they didn't even leave anyone on watch. They simply lay down and fell fast asleep.

As time passed, the darkness gradually receded, and the first ray of sunlight broke over the horizon.

Clip-clop! Clip-clop! Clip-clop!

A faint sound grew louder. Dick, who was fairly alert, immediately jolted awake. Like a startled rabbit, he sat up and craned his neck toward the sound.

A group of dark figures was charging toward them from the direction of the rising sun.

Dick sprang to his feet and roared, "Get up! Quickly, get up! We're under attack! We're under attack!"