The Ironborn had won their first skirmish against the Stark men, but it had cost them dozens of their best fighters. Their numbers were already stretched thin.
Jason watched Theon's face closely, seeing the panic flicker in his eyes. Seizing the advantage, Jason's voice became firm, laced with unshakable confidence. "The sounds of fighting must have reached my garrison in Winter Town by now. My soldiers are on their way."
He paused, letting the words sink in. "And when the news reaches my logging camp, the cavalry stationed there will ride for Winterfell. They are much faster."
With every word Jason spoke, another drop of color drained from Theon's face. In his arrogant rush to capture the castle, he'd completely forgotten about Jason's significant presence in the North. His men were in Winter Town, and worse, his elite cavalry were at the lumber camp.
Theon remembered the battle at Riverrun all too well. He had seen Jason's cavalry in action, an invincible force that had shattered enemy lines. The lumber camp was only ten kilometers away; they could be here in minutes. His remaining Ironborn, fewer than two hundred now, stood no chance against them.
The more he thought, the more trapped he felt.
Staring at Jason with a venomous glare, Theon knew that even if he tried to flee, the cavalry would hunt him down. There was only one path left. He had to capture the Lord of Starfire City himself. With Jason as a hostage, his soldiers wouldn't dare to attack. It was his only hope for survival.
His mind made up, Theon raised his sword, his face a mask of desperation. "Brave sons of the Iron Islands!" he screamed. "Kill them! Kill them all and take Jason and the Starks!"
Waving their axes and swords, the Ironborn let out guttural roars and charged toward the disciplined line of Starfire guards.
"Hold them back!" Jason shouted. "Just hold the line! Our reinforcements from Winter Town will be here soon, and it will all be over for them!"
Rick, a veritable giant in his heavy armor and steel helm, roared in response. He raised his greatsword and crashed into the Ironborn line like a battering ram.
Clang!
An Ironborn's axe met Rick's sword and was cleaved in two. Before the raider could react, the greatsword continued its arc, slicing through his torso. Blood and viscera spilled onto the floor, and the hall filled with a foul stench. Rick's brutal efficiency stunned the other Ironborn, and their frenzied charge slowed for a fatal second.
Seizing the opportunity, Kent commanded the fifty guards to tighten their formation, creating an impenetrable shield wall. He stood just behind the line, directing the defense while personally ensuring Jason remained protected.
The Ironborn, fighting with reckless individuality, slammed into the well-trained formation. The raiders at the front were met by a hedge of steel, and more than a dozen fell screaming, pierced by multiple swords at once.
Bang! Thud!
The swords and axes of the other Ironborn rained down on the guards' helmets and armor, making dull, metallic sounds but failing to cause any real damage. Their blades slid harmlessly off the specially crafted armor plates. The superior equipment of Jason's men allowed them to easily stand against an enemy that outnumbered them.
The disciplined guards moved as one, their high-carbon steel swords finding gaps in the Ironborn's leather and mail. The air filled with the wet sound of steel piercing flesh, and the screams of the dying were constant. With every step forward, the guards' formation advanced over the corpses of their enemies.
In less than ten minutes, nearly half of the Ironborn lay dead or dying in pools of their own blood. In contrast, Jason's guards had suffered only a few minor injuries, mostly from men slipping on the blood-slicked floor and being struck while they were down.
Faced with such an invincible defense, the Ironborn's courage finally broke. They stared in horror as the relentless wall of steel and death advanced upon them. One of them turned and fled the hall, and in an instant, the panic became contagious. The rest of them dropped their weapons and ran for their lives.
"Stop! Don't run, you bastards! Cowards!" Theon screamed in a fury, trying to rally his routing men.
A large, terrified Ironborn, fleeing for his life, didn't even see his young lord. He crashed into Theon's slender frame, sending him sprawling to the ground.
"They're running!" Jason yelled. "After them! Kent, capture Theon!"
The sounds of battle erupted once more in the courtyard. The fleeing Ironborn ran straight into the hundred soldiers from Jason's Winter Town garrison, who had just arrived and were forming up with spears at the ready.
Caught between the pursuers from the hall and the fresh soldiers at the gate, the rest of the Ironborn were either cut down or surrendered. A dozen captives were bound with ropes and dragged back into the hall.
Knowing his rebellion had failed and that his life was forfeit, Theon Greyjoy completely broke down. He was forced to his knees, and all his bravado vanished, replaced by pathetic sobs. "Lady Catelyn, please," he begged, his face a mess of tears and snot. "Please forgive me. It was my father, Balon... he forced me to do this! I didn't want to! Please, don't kill me!"
Lady Catelyn looked down at the weeping wreck at her feet, her expression a mixture of cold fury and deep, sorrowful pity. "You betrayed our family, Theon," she said, her voice sharp as ice. "You betrayed Robb's trust. In my eyes, you deserve to be beheaded this very instant. But I will put you in the dungeons and let Robb decide your fate."
She then turned to Jason, her face softening with gratitude. "Lord Jason, what do you think should be done?"
Jason had little interest in Theon's personal fate. He was more concerned about his uncle, Euron "Crow's Eye" Greyjoy—a man far more cunning and dangerous. Euron had likely already returned to the Iron Islands, killed Balon, and claimed the Salt Throne for himself.
"Since Theon has betrayed the North, it's likely the Iron Fleet is already attacking our coasts," Jason said, looking down at the captive. "We need more information."
Terrified for his life, Theon confessed everything he knew about his father's plan to invade the North. From his panicked words, they deduced that his sister, Asha, was already leading an attack on Deepwood Motte, and that Ironborn longships were raiding villages all along the Stony Shore.
It was not good news.
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