The next day, early morning.
True to habit, Galon climbed out of bed at dawn, preparing for his daily training.
He finished dressing and had just stepped out of his room when he noticed Jon and Lawrence waiting for him on the wooden corridor to the right.
Both of them had their backs turned, gazing into the scenery below the hill.
The hill stood about a hundred meters high. From where he stood, Jon could easily see distant mountains capped with snow.
He recalled what Maester Luwin had once said, that Deepwood Motte lay closer to the sea than Winterfell, only twenty to thirty kilometers from the coast.
Jon shifted his gaze, hoping to glimpse the sea.
Unfortunately, layers of mountains and dense forests blocked his view. He could not even catch the scent of the ocean.
Jon took a deep breath of the morning air. A faint fragrance of pine filled his lungs, instantly lifting his spirits.
"Well? Doesn't Deepwood Motte have a charm of its own?"
Galon stepped lightly behind Jon and spoke with a smile.
Lawrence had grown up in Deepwood Motte and was long accustomed to its scenery. To him, it held nothing special, even seeming a little desolate.
Jon, on the other hand, had only just arrived and felt it keenly.
He turned around, looking at Galon with excitement.
"Yes. We arrived too late last night, and it was too dark to see clearly. Only this morning did I realize how enormous Deepwood Motte actually is."
He paused, looking north, then suddenly snapped his gaze south in disbelief.
"There are actually two baileys?"
Following his line of sight, Galon explained, "The northern bailey was expanded under my orders and is still under construction. The southern bailey is the original one our house has always used."
As he finished speaking, he glanced at the sky, realized it was getting late, and added, "Come on. Let's head to the northern bailey first. I'll explain everything to you along the way."
Galon turned and descended the wooden stairs beside him. Jon and Lawrence followed closely behind.
On the way to the northern bailey, Galon introduced Deepwood Motte to Jon in detail.
Deepwood Motte was a classic hilltop-and-bailey wooden fortress. Its main structure was divided into two parts.
The residential keep atop the hill, and the baileys at its base.
At the entrances from both the southern and northern baileys leading up the hill stood pairs of square wooden towers for protection, each pair connected by a wall-walk.
For added security, the hilltop keep itself also had southern and northern gates.
If enemies broke through the bailey and assaulted the inner keep, House Glover could seal the gates and repel them from above with arrow towers, holding the high ground.
The entire fortress centered on the hill, with the northern and southern baileys forming its flanks. Moss-covered wooden palisades served as the outer walls.
Outside the walls ran a deep ditch, followed by a sloped earth embankment and rows of sharpened logs, forming layered defensive lines.
To the east and west of Deepwood Motte stretched open fields, planted with oats and barley.
The harvest was approaching.
"I ordered the construction of the northern bailey half a year ago," Galon said as they descended the stairs.
"On one hand, the needs of the house have grown. The original southern bailey alone is no longer sufficient.
On the other hand, the long summer is coming to an end. A long winter is approaching."
His voice grew more solemn.
"The four clans of the Wolfswood are sworn to me. I plan to build wooden houses so they can shelter here once winter arrives."
Jon immediately understood and smiled.
"Like Winter Town?"
Galon nodded. "Exactly."
After stepping off the stairs, he continued along the wooden corridor toward the northern gate.
Along the way, guards and servants bowed and stepped aside when they saw Galon.
Galon smiled warmly and greeted them in return.
When they passed through the courtyard, Jon noticed signs of rot on some wooden pillars and could not help asking, "Galon, why isn't Deepwood Motte built of stone? Wouldn't that be much stronger?"
Galon shook his head slightly.
"There's a reason for that."
He recalled how, in his previous planet, similar fortresses had existed in medieval Europe.
The Normans had once relied on this kind of motte-and-bailey castle to conquer large swaths of land.
Cheap and quick to build, these fortresses allowed territory to be secured at minimal cost.
However, wooden castles were prone to fire and decay. In time, they fell out of favor and were replaced by stone fortresses.
Westeros was no different.
Today, castles that still retained this structure were rare. Deepwood Motte, hidden within the Wolfswood, was one of the few.
At its core, this was due to its unique geography and history.
Deepwood Motte lay within the Wolfswood. Timber was the one thing it would never lack.
For thousands of years, it had been locked in constant conflict with the Ironborn. Time and again, the Ironborn had pushed battles to its very doorstep, leaving the fortress heavily damaged.
Stone castles were sturdy, but once damaged, repairs were costly.
Harrenhal was the clearest example. One blast of dragonfire had left it in ruins for centuries.
Wooden fortresses were different. Their repair costs were low. As long as timber could be replaced regularly, they could be used indefinitely.
That was why Deepwood Motte had always maintained its wooden construction through generations of war with the ironborn.
As they walked, Galon explained all of this to Jon.
In Jon's mind, scenes formed of House Glover fighting the ironborn in bloody, brutal clashes beneath these walls.
"The Ironborn deserve to die," Jon cursed fiercely. Thinking of Theon's attempt on Bran, his hatred burned all the hotter.
Hearing this, Lawrence felt a spark of goodwill toward Jon.
He himself had been taken in by Galbert since childhood and fully assimilated into House Glover, sharing the same hatred for the ironborn.
Galon kept walking, but inwardly he thought to himself.
'There isn't much time before we rise in arms. I need to instill House Glover's values in him quickly.'
'Only if he truly identifies with us can I entrust him with real responsibility.'
He led the two of them out through the northern gate of the inner keep and down the slope.
'I'll have to find a way to help him integrate faster.'
As they walked, Jon looked down over the bailey.
On the western side of the northern bailey stood a row of wooden houses. To the east lay stacks of logs.
South of the logs was a larger wooden building with its doors closed, its contents unclear.
At that moment, people began to emerge in small groups from the western houses, gathering toward the center of the bailey.
"Huh? What are they doing?" Jon asked curiously.
Galon's eyes flickered. He already knew how to speed up Jon's integration into Deepwood Motte.
He did not answer Jon. Instead, he stopped and stood quietly on the slope, looking down at the slowly assembling crowd below.
They were boys about Galon's age, yawning and gathering lazily.
Jon was still confused, but Lawrence beside him had already begun to panic.
He glanced nervously at Galon and cursed inwardly. 'I clearly told Ron last night that Galon was back. And they still dare to gather late.'
'Damn it. Now I'm going to be punished along with them.'
The three of them waited on the slope for another five minutes, until a black-haired young man came rushing out of a wooden house to the right.
Waving his arms, he shouted, "Lord Galon returned last night. Hurry, form up!"
The once-lazy crowd instantly turned anxious and tense.
They quickly straightened their ranks and stood at attention, silently waiting for Galon's arrival.
At that moment, Galon glanced sideways at Lawrence, his voice calm.
"How many days have they been lax?"
Lawrence's lips trembled. "Th-three days…"
Galon narrowed his eyes. An invisible pressure spread outward, and Lawrence's face went pale at once.
"Come," Galon said coldly. "Let's go over."
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