Without losing a single soldier and relying solely on dozens of war horns and thousands of torches, Aegor retook Deepwood Motte, which had been occupied by the Ironborn for several months. Aside from a few Wildlings who tripped over branches in the dark and got scraped, there were no casualties. Likewise, they didn’t kill any enemies either.

Aegor was satisfied with this result.

In theory, he didn’t need to concern himself too much with the Mountain Clans or the people of the New Gift. For every one of them that died in battle, he only had to pay a “huge” compensation of one golden dragon. From the perspective of spiritual victory, that golden dragon would simply circulate within the Gift and eventually return to the Night’s Watch’s logistics department.

What pained Aegor wasn’t the gold, but the lives. The Gift wasn’t like any other region in Westeros. Its total population was currently under forty thousand. Even counting older children and women, the labor force barely exceeded ten thousand. That number might sound significant, but in reality, such a small society couldn’t afford any losses.

This meant that although he was managing residents with the lowest average quality across the Seven Kingdoms, he had to treasure them more than any lord in the Seven Kingdoms… and not just out of kindness.

Earlier, to overcome the difficult situation brought on by Jeor Mormont’s death, he had to harden his heart and abandon a tribe. But after that, unless absolutely necessary, he wouldn’t engage in meaningless posturing or scramble for credit again. To Robb Stark, the Grey Area Citizens assisting in the retaking of Deepwood Motte was already a great help. Killing a few dozen more Ironborn wouldn’t significantly increase that merit.

—

The fire atop the watchtower ceased spreading once the Wildfire burned out, and the color of the light shifted from green to red. Once the people of the New Gift entered the castle to help extinguish the flames, the fire was quickly put out. A pleasant surprise followed—the Ironborn, fleeing in panic, hadn’t even dealt with the hostages. Lady Glover emerged from the godswood, supported by her personal maid. The bruised and battered Maester and the steward who had lost a leg were also quickly carried or helped out from the cellar.

(No, perhaps it wasn’t that they forgot to deal with the hostages out of panic, but that the enemy commander had deliberately left them alive—so that after the attackers retook the castle and rescued the hostages, they wouldn’t pursue the fleeing Ironborn too viciously?)

If that were the case, then let them live, Aegor thought. He held no deep hatred for the Ironborn.

“Did you catch them… especially that… Asha Greyjoy?” Tears and sleepless nights had reddened Sybell Glover’s eyes. She was briefly surprised to see that the commander of the relief force wasn’t a Stark, but a man in black from the Night’s Watch. However, she didn’t press the matter. “My son and daughter were taken back to the Iron Islands by them. We need hostages to exchange for Deepwood Motte’s heir!”

“Oh, my Lady…” Hother Umber, who had marched from Last Hearth with Aegor to retake Deepwood Motte, spread his hands. “They’ve already escaped into the Wolfswood. I’m not familiar with this forest. It’s difficult to pursue them.”

“Gavin and Erena are in their hands!” Her voice rose into a mother’s desperate cry.

“If they were still with the group that fled Deepwood Motte, I’d pursue them without hesitation.” Hother shrugged helplessly. “But you said it yourself, Sybell—they’ve been taken to the Iron Islands. Even if we give chase, we might not catch up. Even if we do, we may not capture the Sea Monster’s daughter alive. And even if we capture her alive, we might not be able to…”

Aegor had originally planned to let the Ironborn go. But hearing Lady Glover’s plea, he was forced to reconsider. Just like a delivery man hoping for a five-star review, he now hoped those he rescued would be fully satisfied. In this crucial moment, he needed the Northerners’ gratitude to achieve the best outcome in his march south.

Since he was here, he’d see it through. “Say no more, my Lady. I will personally lead men to capture the prisoners for you.”

Hother looked back with doubt. “Aegor, they won’t be foolish enough to stick to the main road.”

“I have my ways. If Lord Hother is tired, find a room and get some rest… Well, before that, search the castle to ensure no Ironborn are still hiding inside,” he added.

Lady Glover looked at Aegor with gratitude. “That’s wonderful. Who is this Lord?”

“Night’s Watch Chief Logistics, Aegor Westerling, my Lady.” Aegor bowed respectfully. “But please remember, the Night’s Watch remains impartial… It wasn’t the Night’s Watch who helped you retake Deepwood Motte, but a group of enthusiastic Grey Area Citizens who happened to be passing through.”

…

Not all women were Margaery Tyrell. Sybell Glover clearly didn’t understand the distinction between the two, but Hother Umber would explain it to her. Still, in the end, this matter needed to be discussed and decided by Robb Stark, so it was too early to say more.

Aegor left the two Northerners, their expressions odd, and walked over to his men. “Which direction did those Ironborn flee?”

“They went south for a while, then west for a while. Their path was completely erratic. They must’ve feared we were in pursuit.”

“Tell Orell to keep working hard and watch them closely.” Aegor nodded. “Everyone else rest where you are. Drink some water, take a nap… Commanders, keep your men in line. Don’t touch anything. Deepwood Motte is not our spoils of war! Once the Ironborn’s route is confirmed, we’ll take the main road and get ahead of them!”

“Yes, Commander!”

—

As Deepwood Motte’s tall tower faded from sight and the Northern army’s clamor and horns quieted, Asha led more than a hundred subordinates—first south, then west, then southwest—changing direction after every stretch. The wolf cub had retaken the castle, and she hadn’t killed the hostages. She thought maybe they wouldn’t chase them too hard.

She still sensed they were being tracked. That much was certain. But what she didn’t know was that leaving the road and venturing into the forest didn’t help them shake their tail. It only made escape harder—because the ones pursuing them weren’t mere men, but a hawk circling hundreds of feet overhead.

After allowing the Wildlings to cross the Wall, Aegor had forcibly incorporated all skinchangers from Beyond the Wall, placing them and their “pets” under house arrest in Crown Town.

These special ability users, who could communicate with animals, control beasts, and possessed unfathomable powers, had once been revered as mysterious beings Beyond the Wall. But after crossing it, they found that the Night’s Watch not only didn’t fear them, but seemed to understand their abilities inside and out. And with most of their animal companions now kept in cages in Crown Town under strict supervision… after a few failed attempts at playing mysterious and hearing about Ser Jarman Buckwell’s feat of slaughtering a tribe in half a day, how could they dare disobey?

This time, when the Gift sent troops south, Aegor brought along two who could control birds. With the epoch-making advantage of aerial reconnaissance, this small group of Ironborn had no way of escaping the grasp of the Night’s Watch unless they grew wings.

…

After fleeing frantically through the forest for half the night, the Ironborn’s stamina had reached its limit. The weaker ones couldn’t go on any longer. “How much further do we have to go?”

If they kept going like this, people would start to fall behind. Asha reluctantly accepted the reality, but had no intention of stopping. “Then slow down, but keep moving—until we reach the sea, or until the sun comes up.”

It was a shameful retreat, but fueled by the resolve to “go home,” the Ironborn gritted their teeth and pressed forward. Avoiding the road meant not only rough terrain, but denser woods. The trees blocked the light of the bright moon and stars, leaving the ground dark and muddy. People and horses constantly stumbled or fell into pits. In a short time, one horse broke its front leg. Its rider, battered and bruised, had no choice but to slit its throat to keep it from neighing.

They had no advantage on horseback, so all riders dismounted.

“We need to light torches.”

“Light them and let the Northerners know where we are?” Asha cursed and began to wonder if abandoning the castle had been a mistake. She took off her helmet, smoothed back her sweat-drenched hair, and gave her exhausted crew a hollow promise. “Keep moving. The Black Wind is waiting for us at the shore!”

(To be continued.)

***

For every 200 PS = 1 extra chapter. Support me on P/treon to read 30+ advanced chapters: p-atreon.c-om/Blownleaves

(Just remove the hyphen to access normally.)

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep