"Kid, our lives are all in your hands, pull yourself together!" Bronn still had strength left. He climbed to the iron cage and began tapping the bars with his shackles.
Clink, clink, clink. As he tapped, Bronn started singing: "For tomorrow, don't hesitate, brave young man, go forth and create a miracle!"
"Shut up! What are you singing, it's horrible!" Sandor, a rough man, followed by Joffrey for years, hated music with a passion.
"I heard this from a bard in Tyrosh. Isn't Geralt from Tyrosh? This song will surely lift his spirits!" Bronn explained, then continued singing to Geralt.
Geralt, locked in the iron frame, smiled bitterly. Outsiders thought it was a song that originated in Tyrosh, with uplifting lyrics. However, to the men from Tyrosh, hearing this song would make them chuckle.
This was the song Lord Wright sang after getting drunk at Oberyn's academy, seeing the guests cheering around him. He sang it to encourage people to spend more and enjoy their time.
"Brave young man, the beautiful angel calls to you from afar! I know you're fearless! I know you're resolute! Your strength is immense!"
These lyrics, without exception, encouraged the guests to keep spending and keep fighting till dawn with the ladies. Now, all the academies in Tyrosh played this song as a final piece before closing time, performed by the most beautiful courtesans to get the guests excited.
"Bronn, can you stop singing?" Bronn's screechy voice irritated not just Sandor, but also Jaqen, who stood up and tried to dissuade him.
"Bronn, stop! Someone's coming!" In the end, Geralt was the first to sense someone entering the hold, causing the dreadful song to stop.
The hatch opened, and eight strong men entered, two of them escorting Bronn and the others out of the ship's hold.
The three non-magical men were given new heavy shackles, while Geralt was locked with a thirty-something-pound iron plate with two holes to secure his wrists, along with two chains locked to his ankles.
"Do you really need to do this to me?" Geralt, his limbs encumbered by the heavy shackles, struggled to walk and complained to the burly man beside him.
The burly man ignored him, gesturing to the guard standing at attention. After the guard left and soon returned, the burly man passed Geralt a gag.
"Don't be like this. I won't complain anymore, I promise~~"
The guard, holding an iron gag, silenced Geralt.
Seeing the treatment Geralt received, Bronn, Sandor, and Jaqen quickly closed their mouths, realizing it was better to stay quiet.
Bronn, Sandor, and Jaqen were handed ragged cloaks, while Geralt had his clothes stripped down to a thin garment to conserve his magic to keep warm.
Soon, the four were brought up to the deck. The sunlight, reflecting off the snow, was blinding, and after being cooped up in the dark hold for so long, Bronn, Sandor, and Jaqen squinted, adjusting their eyes. Only Geralt, undaunted by the sudden harsh sunlight, began scanning the surroundings.
The weather was clear with blue skies and white clouds, and a few eagles soared high above. In the distant forest, thick snow could still be seen.
The river here wasn't as wide as White Harbor; its surface was covered by a thick layer of ice, with the water flowing beneath. Only a man-made channel remained open for the ships to pass. Many people in heavy clothing patrolled the ice, periodically striking it to keep the route open.
The port, lining the riverbank, was bustling with activity. Ships were docked, and workers moved goods from the boats to carts. Geralt's group was ushered off the ship.
"Take them to the city!" A few men, their swords at their waists, pulled over a cart drawn by oxen to carry the prisoners.
The northern oxen were thick with long fur, and the men were similarly bundled in thick pelts. Their faces were covered with hoods and cloth, making it hard to distinguish them apart except by voice or the insignia on their clothing.
The newcomers wore no insignia, and Geralt couldn't immediately figure out which faction they belonged to. The burly men reached Geralt, threw him onto the cart, and soon after, Bronn, Sandor, and Jaqen followed.
"Do you know? I think riding in this prisoner cart is actually a bit of a relief!" Geralt grunted, carefully moving the heavy shackles to the floor.
"This deal's a disaster. We made barely any money and lost our lives!" Bronn began to grumble as the cart moved.
"At this point, you're still thinking about money? Focus on how to stay alive!" Sandor, who had been locked in a cage before by wildlings, now cursed the northern men, swearing he'd kill the guards even if he had to bite them.
Bronn looked around the cart and then turned to Geralt. "Kid, where's your Valyrian steel sword?"
Geralt raised his finger to point behind him, where the three-from Skinchanger riding a horse with a black wolf at his side was easy to recognize. The items were in the bundle on his back.
The muddy road twisted along the riverbank, and the number of people on the road was significant. A few more prison carts joined the convoy as they traveled. After rounding a bend, a fortress city appeared in the distance.
The family banner was flying above the city gates—silver with a double-headed battle axe standing upright.
"This is Castle Carwyn! It's less than half a day to Winterfell on horseback, maybe we still have a chance," Bronn whispered to the others. If they could escape to Winterfell, they could count on the Stark family's help.
A loud wolf's howl rang out from the gatehouse of Castle Carwyn.
A huge gray direwolf had its front legs resting on the parapet, its eyes fixed on the black wolf next to the three-from Skinchanger.
At the sound of the howl, the black wolf immediately lay down, turning its head sideways and softly whining a few times. It dared not meet the gaze of the giant gray wolf and showed submission.
The wolf's howl caught everyone's attention. They all looked up toward the gatehouse, where a hand reached out from behind, grabbing the large wolf's head fur to drag it off the parapet. Then, a man with a small mustache on his upper lip leaned forward, glanced around, and waved toward the three-from Skinchanger.
The three-from Skinchanger by the prison cart also waved in return. When the convoy reached the base of the gatehouse, Robb threw a water pouch full of fine wine to the three-from Skinchanger.
"Haha! Good wine!" The three-from Skinchanger took a large gulp and raised the water pouch in a toast to Robb above.
Seeing the envious looks of the crowd, the three-from Skinchanger straightened his back on horseback, looking quite proud.
"Grey Wind, red-brown hair, blue eyes, and a tall, strong build—Robb is actually working with these criminals! Damn, the bastard!" Geralt cursed Robb in his mind from inside the prison cart.
"That's Robb Stark. We can ask him for help!" Bronn, who had spent time in the North, recognized Robb from previous encounters.
Geralt clenched his fists, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Robb in the distance. "No wonder these people dare to breed vampires in the North, let women vampires serve customers, and sell vampire ash—Robb is behind them! Robb is the leader of these people!"
Bronn couldn't believe it and turned to ask, "Are you sure?"
"They're all in it together! They're all in it together!" Geralt repeated, his image of the righteous, brave father shattering in his mind.
Sandor had heard of Robb's good reputation. "Maybe there's some misunderstanding?"
Geralt's face was full of anger. "No misunderstanding! Didn't you notice? Nearly all the people here are men! How do they satisfy their needs? Only female vampires can do that, and there must be many female vampires in the city!"
Jaqen leaned in. "I haven't seen a single woman since we got off the ship!"
And so, the four of them sat in the prison cart, slowly entering Castle Carwyn.
---
On the gatehouse, Robb also saw the white-haired man in the prison cart. However, there were many elderly men with white hair, so it didn't catch his interest.
"Lord Medger, there have been many Skinchangers arriving in Castle Carwyn lately. When I'm not around, please make sure to have someone keep an eye on them," Robb said, patting the Grey Wind and walking along the city wall with a tall man.
"Of course, I've memorized the list you gave me, including their features and the animals they have," Lord Medger, the Lord of Castle Carwyn, said with a smile. At nearly sixty years old, he still maintained a strong build, with only his white hair showing his age.
The two families had always been close, and House Carwyn had even married a stark woman in the past. Over the years, Winterfell had actively developed trade, controlling the important land and sea routes into the city, and the House Carwyn had prospered. Today, they were one of the most powerful houses in the North, and one of the most loyal bannermen to the Starks.
"Thank you for your hard work, my lord. Some of the Skinchangers have small animals, and sometimes they crawl into their clothes for warmth. You'd better bring along a mage adviser," Robb said. With all the Skinchangers gathering in Winterfell, the Stark family was naturally going to treat them well. The road was difficult in winter, so many people traveled by boat to Castle Carwyn before heading north. Robb was concerned that the elderly Medger might miss something.
"I'll keep an eye on it. But I can't recall the shape-shifter you greeted earlier," Medger said.
Robb patted Lord Medger's shoulder and smiled. "He's not on the regular shape-shifter list. His name is Rocco. Besides the black wolf with him, his right arm is wrapped in a venomous snake, and there's a raven chick in his pocket. He's on the priority list of Skinchangers to watch."
"Hahaha, looks like I really am getting old. I'll bring along the mage adviser right away," Lord Medger chuckled self-deprecatingly. Then, he asked Robb, "Are you heading to the Bay of Crag?"
"This afternoon, we'll set out. Your son, Cley Seven, will be coming with me too. He's responsible for overseeing the construction of one of the towers," Robb glanced at the sky. The weather had been good lately, and with the moonlight, they could make good progress.
Lord Meachy Seven's son, Ser Cley Seven, was one of the twenty young knights who had long followed Robb.
These men were Robb's right-hand men and, at the same time, heirs to various noble families of the North. In the future, as Robb succeeded to the Lord's position, the others would become lords of their respective houses. The friendships forged from a young age helped unite the people of the North.
"Moat Cailin, I never imagined that the fortress, abandoned for hundreds of years, would be rebuilt under your hands," said Lord Meachy.
"People say the Neck region is the narrowest part of the continent, and Moat Cailin, located at the north of the Neck, is the tongue in the throat. The Fever River runs through the Neck, and Moat Cailin is truly the narrowest part!" Robb replied.
Moat Cailin was the name of an ancient fortress located in the northern part of the Neck, which had long been directly governed by House Stark. It had originally been built to repel southern Andal invasions, but had been abandoned after Aegon united the continent.
Now, after much labor and resources spent on its restoration, many people in the North believed it was to defend against the vampires ravaging the Neck. Only the higher nobility and a few mages knew that it was actually built to resist the Others. Moat Cailin was the last line of defense for the North if Winterfell were to fall.
A few eagles suddenly scattered in the sky above Castle Carwyn. After flying off into the distance, their sharp cries reached the ears of the people below. The wild dogs in the city ceased their howling, and the animals brought by the skinchangers pressed close to their masters' bodies.
The sudden silence from the animals alerted the skinchangers, who immediately became cautious, drawing weapons and scanning the surroundings from advantageous positions in the city. The mage tower at Castle Carwyn also lit up, with beams of yellow light sweeping across the city.
Gray Wind, Robb's direwolf, wasn't afraid but ran up to the parapet to look around.
Seeing the beams of light from the mage tower, Lord Meachy hurriedly asked Robb, "What's happening? Are the Others invading?"
Robb didn't answer immediately. He raised his hand and cast a small ice spell toward the mage tower. It was a signal agreed upon by the people of the North. The mages in the tower, seeing the signal, relaxed their vigilance.
"Lord Meachy, don't worry. Castle Carwyn is safe," Robb said.
Less than half a minute after Robb spoke, a dark shadow appeared over King's Road to the south. The shadow moved quickly, growing larger as it neared Castle Carwyn.
A giant dragon, its red-and-white scales gleaming, spread its wings to their fullest as it flew rapidly. Once its massive shadow cast over the city, all sounds ceased. It wasn't until the dragon, Odahviing, passed over Castle Carwyn and continued flying north toward Winterfell that the first bark from an old dog in the city was heard.
"Lord Wright has arrived so soon?" Lord Meachy was surprised. Everyone in the North knew that Wright was escorting the skinchangers to the Wall, but Meachy noticed that the arrival time didn't match their agreement.
"Maybe he needs something from my father," Robb said. He knew that Wright never wasted time. "I need to hurry and prepare too. After I finish with Moat Cailin, I'll need to get back to Winterfell for the mage gathering."
Inside the prisoner cart:
"That damn white-haired bastard! Couldn't you just shoot a magic spell into the sky? If Wright finds out about you, who would still dare to touch us?" Bronn squeezed Geralt's neck under his arm, clenching his fists and pounding Geralt's head. Sandor and Jaqen tried to pull him off.
In truth, the four of them, starving for a week, had little strength. They seemed more like a bunch of people rolling around together.
"Robb's the bad guy, and your foster father flew away! I don't want to die with you!" Bronn kept cursing at Geralt.
Geralt said nothing, though he too felt the weight of the situation. He had ventured out to make a name for himself, but now, as a prisoner, he hadn't achieved anything. He still hoped he could struggle free, maybe even turn the tables, but he refused to seek help until the last possible moment.
"Quiet! Keep making noise and I'll cut you all down!" One of the guards brandished his sword through the bars at the four.