The Great Hall of Beasts

The sky was growing dark.

Most of Deepwood Motte's inner keep was made of wood, so its outer walls weren't lined with nearly as many torches as Winterfell's.

As a result, the inner keep grew especially dim after nightfall.

On his first visit to Deepwood Motte, Jon couldn't tell left from right and could only follow Garon and Robett along in a daze.

Fortunately, before long, a brightly lit hall came into view.

"The Great Hall of Beasts is here!"

Garon called out before leading the way inside.

"The Great Hall of Beasts?"

Curious, Jon hurried into the hall with Robett.

As soon as he entered, the blazing hearth came into view.

But what drew his attention wasn't the hearth. It was the various wild animal skulls hung all over the wooden walls.

There were nearly a hundred of them.

The most striking was the enormous mammoth skull on the wall at the center of the hall.

"What's that?"

Jon gazed at the skull in astonishment and couldn't help asking Garon.

Garon wasn't surprised in the least. Everyone who visited the Great Hall of Beasts for the first time was drawn to the mammoth skull.

"That's a mammoth skull. What do you think? Impressive, isn't it?"

When Jon nodded, Garon continued, "All the skulls in this hall were collected by generations of House Glover hunters."

Garon's voice grew wistful as he looked at the well-preserved animal skulls.

"There used to be more than a thousand skulls in the hall. That's where its name came from."

"But as time passed, some of the beasts went extinct, and their skulls gradually decayed."

"Now, this is all that's left!"

As Garon spoke, Jon's gaze swept over the skulls on every wall.

Unlike Winterfell's stone-built hall, the Great Hall of Beasts, Deepwood Motte's hall for receiving guests and holding council, was built of both stone and wood. Stone formed its foundation, while timber made up the main structure.

Because it stood on a hill, the Great Hall of Beasts was nearly half the size of Winterfell's hall.

Jon made a rough estimate. It could probably hold no more than two or three hundred people.

He looked away and remarked, "I never expected Deepwood Motte to still have a mammoth skull. I thought they were just legends, like the Giants!"

Garon smiled and was about to reply when footsteps sounded outside the hall.

He looked up as a thin man in his fifties walked in.

"Steward Mormann!"

Garon smiled and went to greet him.

Jon stayed where he was, curiously studying the steward's appearance.

His expression was stern, and his gray hair and beard were meticulously groomed, making him seem difficult to approach.

But to Jon's surprise, the moment Steward Mormann saw Garon, his expression softened like melting ice, and delight showed on his face.

He quickly bowed to Garon. "Welcome home, Lord Garon!"

Garon smiled and helped him to his feet, then introduced Jon.

"This is Jon Snow, a squire Lord Ned assigned to me."

"Jon, this is Steward Mormann. He takes care of everything in Deepwood Motte. If you need anything, you can ask him."

Jon smiled and greeted Steward Mormann warmly.

The steward gave Jon a scrutinizing look and nodded slightly, then turned to Garon for instructions.

"My lord, I've already prepared Jon's room. Would you like me to take him there first?"

"Yes. And have hot water brought for him to wash up. Send his supper to his room as well!"

After giving the steward his instructions, Garon turned to Jon. "You've had a tiring journey these past few days, Jon. Wash up, eat, and get some rest as soon as you can!"

Jon had no objections. He called for Ghost, ready to follow the steward out.

Ghost, who had been lying beneath the dining table, immediately stood up. Steward Mormann, who hadn't noticed him before, jumped in fright. "A... a direwolf?"

Garon quickly explained, "Don't be afraid. Ghost is Jon's direwolf. He won't hurt anyone."

Jon added, "That's right. Ghost is very well-behaved. You don't need to worry, Steward."

Steward Mormann looked as though he wanted to say something, but in the end, he simply told Jon, "Come with me."

With that, he turned and left the hall. Jon followed close behind, with Ghost at his side.

Once the steward, Jon, and the direwolf had disappeared from sight, Robett turned to Garon and asked, "Garon, what exactly happened at Winterfell?"

"Is Jon Snow Lord Ned's bastard?"

"Why would Lord Ned make him your squire?"

Garon didn't rush to answer Robett's barrage of questions. Instead, he went to the dining table and poured himself a cup of wine to quench his thirst.

"Ah..."

He let out a satisfied breath, then turned to Robett and answered.

"Uncle, a lot has happened at Winterfell these past few days. The king visited..."

Garon slowly recounted everything that had happened to him at Winterfell.

He'd won a betrothal through Trial by Combat, killed a Giant Bear to rescue Prince Joffrey, and investigated the case of Bran's fall from the tower.

Robett listened with an increasingly astonished expression. He'd never imagined his nephew would accomplish so much.

"Wait..."

Even after Garon finished, Robett still looked incredulous. He asked again, "You're saying that over the past few days, you won a betrothal through Trial by Combat, then hunted and killed a Giant Bear, and after that captured Theon of the Iron Islands for plotting against Bran?"

Garon nodded calmly, as if none of it were worth mentioning.

"Old Gods!"

Even Robett, who had weathered many storms, was struck speechless by so many momentous events.

He shook his head, trying to clear it.

At last, Robett looked at Garon with a complicated expression, his eyes full of both pride and lingering fear.

Seeing his uncle's worried expression, Garon said dismissively, "Uncle Robett, you know my strength better than anyone. What chance would an ordinary person have against me?"

Remembering their earlier sparring, Robett let out a bitter laugh. "I just never thought you could kill a Giant Bear, too."

He paused to give Garon a pointed warning. "Garon, you're the lord of Deepwood Motte now. Don't take risks like that again!"

"The glory of House Glover rests entirely on you!"

Warmth welled up in Garon's heart. He smiled and agreed, then added, "By the way, has anything happened while I was away from Deepwood Motte?"

Robett thought for a moment before replying, "Everything's normal at Deepwood Motte. Maester Beckman's research hasn't made much progress, and the clans are training as usual."

"Anything else?"

Robett thought it over carefully, then said, "A wandering wizard passed through Deepwood Motte recently. He prophesied that there'd be one more bountiful harvest before the Long Summer ended."

"Steward Mormann seems to believe him. He wants to set aside a tenth of the next harvest as grain stores and distribute the rest to the clans."

Garon raised an eyebrow and turned it down. "That won't be enough. I'll speak with Steward Mormann later. We can't store less than two-tenths."

Robett nodded without objection.

"One more thing. Yesterday, some of the Forest Clans were hunting and found a poacher in the hunting grounds."

"He's been captured. Find some time to deal with him, Garon."

Garon knew the laws of the nobility by heart.

Anyone who poached without the lord's permission could either have their hand cut off or be forced to take the black and sent to the Wall.

Sitting down at the table, he replied indifferently, "All right, I know. I'll judge him as lord tomorrow."

Garon drained the rest of his wine and reached to pour another cup. But a figure suddenly surfaced in his mind, and, as if possessed, he asked, "Uncle Robett, do you know his name?"

"Joel!"

Robett answered at once.