Chapter 4. Pursuit

Eastwood Village lay northeast of Winterfell, about a day's walk or half a day's ride away.

This village was situated between the White Knife River and Ramshead Mountain. With its access to fish and mountain goods, the village was relatively prosperous.

The village consisted of over a dozen farmhouses, a council hall, and a watchtower. The security was maintained by a few village braves selected by the village chief.

Sam, the one who had come to Winterfell seeking help, was the youngest of the Eastwood Village braves.

At this moment, unable to ride a horse, Sam sat behind Jory, staring blankly at the ruins of Eastwood Village, occasionally seeing wisps of black smoke rising and the charred corpses scattered all around.

"Seven hells! This is unbearable," Theon exclaimed in dismay after circling the village on horseback, finding no survivors.

Jon didn't say a word, but from his tightly furrowed brows and the way he ground his teeth, it was clear he was seething with rage.

This once peaceful and prosperous Eastwood Village had been utterly destroyed in a single night.

Robb rode his horse slowly through the ruins. The air was filled with the stench of burning flesh and a faint scent of roasted meat.

Seeing this tragic scene, his face showed only anger, but he didn't display any discomfort. Instead, he observed carefully.

Most of the corpses in the ruins were charred. The few that hadn't been burned were dismembered remains, still bearing wounds of various sizes.

He couldn't even imagine what the villagers of Eastwood had gone through before they died.

The horrific scene weighed heavily on Robb's heart, but his mind remained unusually sharp. His eyes scanned the surroundings of the ruins with a piercing gaze, not missing any unusual detail.

He had made up his mind to ensure that those responsible for this atrocity would face the punishment they deserved.

"Why! Why!"

A heart-wrenching cry came from behind, it was Sam's voice.

***

"My lords, over here!"

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

Upon hearing the shout, Robb and the others immediately spurred their horses toward the soldier.

This was the council hall of Eastwood Village. Thanks to its construction of rough stones wrapped in clay, although its exterior was blackened, the interior hadn't been touched by the fire.

Robb was some distance away. When he arrived at the council hall and dismounted, he saw Jon walking out with a dark expression, blocking the tear-stained Sam.

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

The moment Jon stopped him, Sam's suppressed emotions erupted. He struggled violently, trying to enter the council hall.

Slap!

Jory stepped in and knocked the out-of-control Sam unconscious.

Robb glanced at the unconscious Sam, bit his lip, and stepped into the council hall.

Inside the council hall, over a dozen Winterfell soldiers stood silently. They said nothing, but anger burned in their eyes.

Robb pushed aside a soldier standing in front of him and was greeted by a hellish scene.

More than a dozen women lay dead, their bodies completely naked.

They were pinned to the three clay walls of the council hall, their limbs nailed to wooden stakes in a spread-eagle position.

Two or three of them had died from having their throats slit, while the others had suffered various gruesome fates; some were covered in bloody holes, some had their bellies cut open with entrails spilling onto the floor, and some had half their skin flayed off.

Grrt! Grrt!

Robb felt as though a fire was burning inside his chest, and he gritted his teeth so hard they made a grinding noise.

Suddenly, he saw one of the women move her fingers.

"Someone is still alive!"

Robb hurried over to the woman, who was covered in bloody wounds, taking two steps in front of everyone.

"White…"

This woman, with disheveled hair and an indistinguishable face, looked at Robb's direwolf sigil on his armor. Weakly, she uttered a single word before her head fell back, lifeless.

Robb hadn't even had time to respond when that word echoed in his mind. He immediately recalled the line of hoofprints heading southwest that he had just noticed.

"White… White Harbor! The killers went to White Harbor by Bite Bay."

Combining this with his memory of the North's map, Robb quickly connected the dots.

"Jory, leave two men to watch over Sam and gather the bodies. The rest of you, we set out immediately!"

***

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

More than a dozen soldiers in leather armor sat in a circle around a crackling campfire, enjoying their dinner.

Dickon tore into a roasted leg of lamb, golden and bone-in, and grabbed a wine sack filled with cheap ale, pouring it into his mouth.

A middle-aged man with yellowing teeth watched Dickon's lamb leg enviously.

With a smile, he asked Dickon, "Captain Dickon, is it true that your cousin holds a position in the King's Landing garrison?"

"Does that need to be asked? Captain Dickon frequently corresponds with his cousin via ravens. His cousin is quite a big deal in King's Landing."

Upon hearing doubt cast on Dickon, one of his close allies immediately jumped in to defend him.

"Hey, we're risking our necks following Captain Dickon. It's good to clarify and feel reassured."

Clap! Clap!

As Dickon continued to enjoy his meal, he noticed the man with yellow teeth and the other soldiers staring at him, waiting for a response.

He set down the roasted lamb leg, wiped his greasy hands, and said loudly, "From the lands of the Dreadfort, we plundered three villages. All the wealth we gained will be divided among us when we reach King's Landing. I think that's what you're most concerned about."

"Secondly, as long as you are willing to continue following me, I will find a way to get you into the city's garrison. You've been with me for years… you know I, Dickon, always keep my promises."

After he finished speaking, the soldiers exchanged glances and cheered in unison.

"Long live Captain Dickon!"

"Lord Dickon…"

Dickon raised a hand to calm them down. Once their excitement had settled slightly, he continued, "But now is not the time for celebration. Ramsay Snow, that bastard, is surely already in pursuit of us.

The village we raided yesterday belonged to House Stark, and once they hear about it, they will come after us too.

We've offended these two families, and there's no place for us in the North anymore.

However, by the time they catch up to White Harbor, we will already be on our way to King's Landing."

"Haha, by then, let's pre-order two or three whores at White Harbor and write greetings to the 'lords' of those two families on their backsides."

"Ah, it's unfortunate for us. We happened to be on watch when that group of Wildlings attacked."

"Yeah! Those damned Wildlings somehow got past Last Hearth. Luckily, we ran fast."

"They're not human; they're beasts! I watched an old man named Crake get his throat bitten out by one of them."

"Ugh, if we hadn't fled, we'd definitely have been eaten by those Wildlings. And even if we escaped, that bastard's bastard would have flayed us. Thank goodness Captain Dickon is here."

Dickon's words had a significant effect, reassuring the soldiers. After hearing him, they began to chat among themselves.

Share the wealth? Hmph, once we reach King's Landing…

Dickon glanced around at the Dreadfort soldiers, including his trusted men, and a glint of cold light flashed in his eyes.

He assessed that the pursuers were at least two days behind them, and Dickon and his men felt no urgency. After their meal and drink, they left no one to keep watch, falling asleep on the ground.

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

***

Clop! Clop! Clop!

The faint sounds grew louder, and the more alert Dickon jolted awake from his dreams, sitting up like a startled rabbit, stretching his neck to look in the direction of the noise.

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

Realizing the danger, Dickon sprang to his feet and shouted, "Get up! Quick! Enemy attack! Enemy attack!"

Footnotes:

Dickon is not Dickon Tarly, Samwell Tarly's brother.