Deepwood Motte—
It lay northwest of the Wolfswood and was one of the most important cities in the North.
To the north, across the sea, it faced Bear Island and House Mormont.
To the east or south, one had to cross the entire Wolfswood to reach the nearest city.
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Ever since House Glover had submitted to House Stark, Deepwood Motte had shouldered the important duty of guarding the North's northwestern frontier and protecting Winterfell.
In the Game of Thrones TV series, before the Battle of the Bastards broke out, Jon and Sansa went around seeking the support of the Northern lords, and Deepwood Motte was the first place they thought of.
That showed just how special Deepwood Motte's position was!
If not for the Iron Islands, Deepwood Motte might well have developed into a port city in the North's northwest, connecting it to the Riverlands, the Westerlands, and other regions.
And Garon's focus on the Iron Islands stemmed not only from history and the future story, but also from these practical considerations.
Only once the Iron Islands were pacified could merchant ships from the Riverlands sail north.
That would allow Garon to attract investment by sea, then rapidly grow rich by monopolizing the Wolfswood's resources.
Otherwise, relying on overland transport alone, Deepwood Motte would struggle to grow even by the time the White Walkers invaded.
Of course, for now, the future development of Deepwood Motte existed only in Garon's plans.
He would have to wait until he had fully conquered the Iron Islands before deciding how to make those plans a reality.
At that moment, evening was drawing near.
Ever since leaving Winterfell, Garon and his party had been traveling through the Wolfswood.
Unlike their hurried journey to Winterfell, though, Garon hadn't been in much of a rush on the way back to Deepwood Motte.
The journey had taken three days on the way there. On the return trip, Garon had taken four, and they had only just reached Deepwood Motte's territory.
"Whoa—"
Garon reined in his horse and gazed at the trees in the distance, noticing the marks carved into a Sentinel Tree.
"Jon, we're almost there!"
Pointing at the marks on the tree ahead, Garon explained, "Those are signs left by the Woodland Clan while hunting. This is their hunting ground."
"Deepwood Motte is just a little farther on!"
Jon looked exhausted. Hearing that, he let out a long breath. "Looks like we'll finally get a good rest tonight!"
No wonder he was so tired.
They had spent three nights in a row in the Wolfswood, where wolves howled incessantly as soon as night fell.
Ghost in particular seemed to take it as a challenge and howled along.
Once he started, he often wouldn't stop for hours.
A few times, he had even attracted a pack of wolves.
If Garon and Roger hadn't been so experienced with life in the Wolfswood, Jon would have been reduced to bones by now if he'd been alone.
"Yeah. Just hang on a little longer. We'll be there soon!" Roger said with a smile.
Jon nodded wearily. Seeing how tired he was, Garon didn't linger any longer and simply waved for them to move on. "Then let's keep going!"
The group set off at a gallop once more.
By the time the sky turned blue with dusk, Deepwood Motte finally appeared before them.
At first glance, Jon thought Deepwood Motte was even larger than Winterfell.
And as they drew closer, he became more certain of his guess.
A wall made of rough-hewn logs blocked his view, making it difficult to see the place in its entirety.
As their horses' hooves thundered, the soldiers of Deepwood Motte spotted Garon and his party from the bell tower in the outer keep.
Clang, clang, clang—
The bells rang, and the eastern gate of Deepwood Motte's outer keep opened.
Garon wasn't surprised. Without stopping, he led his people straight through the gate and into the outer keep.
Jon was taken aback the moment he entered.
It was less an outer keep than a town.
Inside its wooden palisade, all kinds of wooden houses stood packed together. In the brief glimpse he caught, the most common were workshops for butchering game.
People from the clans hurried to and fro, keeping busy.
In the middle of the disorderly buildings, a packed-earth road wound toward the inner keep at the top of a hill.
Garon flicked his reins and sped up, charging toward the inner keep on the hilltop.
Jon knew that was where Garon had lived all this time.
Soon, an inner keep built from a mixture of wood and stone came into view.
Garon led the way, reaching the inner keep's only gate first.
Someone was already waiting in front of the gate.
"Uncle Robett!"
With a hearty laugh, Garon reined in sharply, leaped down, and embraced Robett, who had opened his arms to him.
"Garon, you're finally back!"
Robett clapped Garon heartily on the back and laughed. "If you'd stayed away any longer, I was about to go to Winterfell and fetch you myself!"
Garon let go of Robett and explained, "A few things came up at Winterfell, so I was delayed for several days."
Just then, a little boy popped out from behind Robett. It was his eldest son, Gawen Glover.
"Garon!"
Gawen was six years old and hadn't seen Garon for half a month. Now that he had, he clung affectionately to Garon's leg and cried, "Was Winterfell fun?"
Garon smiled and ruffled his hair. "Yeah, it was great. I'll take you there sometime if I get the chance!"
Hearing that, Gawen cheered excitedly.
At that moment, Lawrence Snow, Galbart's adopted son, stepped forward to greet him. "Garon, I thought you'd been bewitched by Lady Sansa and wouldn't want to come back."
"Haha—"
Garon patted Lawrence on the shoulder. "How could I? This is my home!"
Thirteen-year-old Lawrence looked up at Garon, delighted. "Then welcome home, Garon!"
Garon smiled and nodded.
Robett stood to the side, smiling as he watched Garon interact with everyone.
When he saw the others still chatting, he was about to suggest they continue inside, but then he noticed that there was one more person in the returning party.
Puzzled, Robett couldn't help asking, "Garon, who's this?"
Garon came to his senses and introduced Jon to Robett and the others. "Uncle Robett, this is Jon Snow. Lord Ned assigned him to serve as my attendant."
"Jon, this is my uncle, Robett Glover."
Jon stepped forward and bowed stiffly. "Lord Robett!"
Robett was taken aback. Ned Stark's bastard son immediately came to mind.
He looked at Garon, hesitating to speak. Then he decided he would speak with Garon alone about what had happened at Winterfell.
"This is my uncle's son, Gawen Glover, and this is my father's adopted son, Lawrence Snow."
Jon greeted the two of them warmly.
Gawen merely blinked, but Lawrence watched Jon with curiosity, quietly observing this bastard who shared his status.
"Uncle Robett, where's the steward?"
Robett looked away and replied, "The steward's helping Sibella prepare dinner, while Maester Beckman is still in the workshop..."
As he mentioned the workshop, Robett glanced at Jon and said no more.
Jon caught the look and immediately grew curious about this place called the workshop.
Garon understood. Turning his head, he said, "Come on, let's go inside first!"
"Lawrence, go tell the steward to prepare a room for Jon near mine. He'll be living at Deepwood Motte from now on."
Lawrence nodded, then went ahead into the inner keep to find the steward.
The rest of Garon's party followed Robett to the Great Hall of Beasts.
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