Night fell gradually.
The inner keep of Deepwood Motte was mostly built of wood, so unlike Winterfell, its outer walls were not lined with large numbers of torches.
As a result, once night came, the inner keep grew especially dim.
For Jon, visiting Deepwood Motte for the first time, this made it hard to tell directions. He could only follow Galon and Robett ahead of him, somewhat at a loss.
Fortunately, it did not take long before a brightly lit hall came into view.
"We're here. The Hall of a Thousand Beasts," Galon called out, stepping inside first.
"The Hall of a Thousand Beasts?" Jon felt puzzled and quickly followed Robett into the hall.
The moment he entered, the blazing fireplace caught his eye.
Yet what truly drew his attention was not the fire, but the countless animal skulls mounted across the wooden walls.
There were nearly a hundred of them in total.
Most striking of all was the enormous mammoth skull mounted on the central wall of the hall.
"That is…?"
Jon stared at it in astonishment and could not help asking Galon.
Galon was not surprised at all. Everyone who entered the Hall of a Thousand Beasts for the first time reacted the same way.
"That's a mammoth skull. Impressive, isn't it?"
When he saw Jon nod, Galon continued, "All the skulls in this hall were taken by House Glover through generations of hunting."
Looking at the well-preserved trophies, Galon's voice carried a hint of nostalgia.
"At its height, this hall held more than a thousand beast skulls. That's where the name comes from.
But as time passed, some beasts went extinct, and others decayed beyond saving."
"Now, only these remain."
Jon listened while his gaze swept over the walls and the skulls mounted upon them.
Unlike Winterfell's stone-built great hall, the Hall of a Thousand Beasts served as both reception hall and council chamber for Deepwood Motte.
It was built half of stone and half of wood, with a stone foundation and a wooden structure above.
Because it was built atop a hill, the hall was nearly half the size of Winterfell's great hall.
By Jon's rough estimate, it could hold no more than two or three hundred people at most.
He withdrew his gaze and sighed. "I never thought Deepwood Motte would still have a mammoth skull. I always believed mammoths and giants were just legends."
Galon smiled, about to reply, when footsteps sounded from outside the hall.
He looked up to see a thin, elderly man in his fifties enter.
"Steward Morman," Galon said with a smile, stepping forward to greet him.
Jon stayed where he was, curiously studying the steward.
The man's expression was stern. His gray hair and beard were neatly trimmed, giving him an unapproachable air.
Yet to Jon's surprise, the moment Steward Morman saw Galon, his stern expression melted away, replaced by clear delight.
He quickly bowed. "Welcome home, Lord Galon."
Galon smiled and helped him up, then introduced Jon.
"This is Jon Snow. He was assigned to me as an attendant by Lord Stark."
"Jon, this is Steward Morman. He oversees all daily affairs in Deepwood Motte. If you need anything, you can go to him."
Jon smiled politely and greeted the steward.
Steward Morman studied Jon for a moment, nodded slightly, then turned back to Galon.
"My lord, Jon's room is already prepared. Shall I take him to see it first?"
"Yes," Galon replied. "And have hot water prepared for him to wash. Send his dinner there as well."
After giving his instructions, Galon turned to Jon. "You've had a hard few days on the road. Wash up, eat, and get some rest early."
Jon had no objections. He called for Ghost and prepared to follow the steward.
Ghost, who had been lying beneath the table, immediately stood up, startling Steward Morman, who had not noticed him earlier.
"A direwolf?"
Galon quickly explained, "Don't worry. Ghost belongs to Jon. He won't hurt anyone."
Jon nodded in agreement. "That's right. Ghost is very well behaved."
Steward Morman hesitated for a moment, then said to Jon, "Come with me."
He turned and left the hall, with Jon and Ghost following close behind.
Once the man, the boy, and the direwolf were gone, Robett finally turned to Galon. "Galon, what exactly happened in Winterfell?"
"Is Jon Snow truly Lord Stark's bastard?
And why would Lord Stark assign him as your attendant?"
Faced with Robett's string of questions, Galon did not answer immediately. Instead, he walked to the table and poured himself a cup of wine.
"Ah…"
He let out a satisfied breath, then looked back at Robett.
"Uncle, a lot happened in Winterfell these past few days. The king's visit, for one…"
Galon slowly recounted everything he had experienced in Winterfell.
The trial by combat that won him his betrothal, the hunt where he killed the giant bear and saved Prince Joffrey, and the investigation into Bran's fall from the tower.
Robett's expression shifted constantly as he listened. He never imagined his nephew had accomplished so much in such a short time.
"Wait," Robett said at last, still incredulous.
"You're telling me that in just a few days, you won a betrothal through trial by combat, hunted down and killed a giant bear.
And then exposed Theon of the Iron Islands as one of the people who tried to murder Bran?"
Galon nodded calmly, as if none of it were worth mentioning.
"Old gods," Robett muttered.
Even someone as seasoned as Robett was left speechless by the sheer weight of it all.
He shook his head, trying to clear it, then looked at Galon with a mixture of pride and lingering fear.
"Galon," he said seriously, "you are the lord of Deepwood Motte now. Do not take such risks again."
"The honor of House Glover rests on your shoulders alone."
Warmth rose in Galon's chest. He smiled and agreed, then asked, "By the way, Uncle, did anything happen while I was away?"
Robett thought for a moment. "Everything's been normal. Maester Beckman's research hasn't made much progress, and the clan training continues as usual."
"Anything else?"
Robett considered again. "A wandering wizard passed through recently. He predicted another great harvest before the long summer ends."
"Steward Morman believes him. He wants to store one tenth of the harvest and distribute the rest among the clans."
Galon raised an eyebrow. "Not enough. I'll speak with Steward Morman later. The stored grain must be no less than two tenths."
Robett nodded, having no objections.
"Ah, and there's one more thing," Robett added. "Yesterday, the forest clans caught a poacher in their hunting grounds."
"He's already been brought back. You should deal with it when you have time."
Galon knew noble law well.
Those who hunted without a lord's permission either lost a hand or were sent to the Wall.
Sitting at the table, he replied casually, "I understand. I'll judge him tomorrow as lord."
He drained the rest of his wine and reached to pour another, but a face suddenly surfaced in his mind. On impulse, he asked, "Uncle Robett, do you know his name?"
"Joel," Robett answered without hesitation.
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