Early the next morning, Garon rose from bed at his usual hour, preparing to begin his daily training routine.
After dressing himself, he stepped out of his room and imdiately discovered Jon and Laurence already waiting for him along the wooden corridor outside.
With their backs facing him, the two stood quietly overlooking the scenery beneath the hill.
The hill itself rose nearly a hundred ters high, and from Jon's position, the distant snow-covered mountains could be clearly seen.
Jon recalled Maester Luwin ntioning that Deepwood Motte lay far closer to the western sea than Winterfell, only twenty or thirty kiloters from the coast.
Because of that, he instinctively searched the horizon, hoping to glimpse the sea.
Unfortunately, countless forests and overlapping mountain ridges blocked his sight completely.
He could not even sll the salt of the ocean.
Jon inhaled deeply, and the crisp morning air mixed with the scent of pine entered his lungs, instantly refreshing his spirit.
"How is it? Deepwood Motte has its own unique charm, doesn't it?"
At that mont, Garon quietly walked up behind Jon and asked with a smile.
Laurence had grown up here since childhood and was already completely accustod to the scenery of Deepwood Motte.
To him, there was nothing particularly special about it anymore.
Sotis he even found it sowhat bleak.
But Jon was different.
This was his first ti here, and naturally his impressions were strongest.
He imdiately turned around and looked excitedly at Garon.
"Yes. I arrived too late yesterday, and the sky was already dark, so I couldn't see clearly."
"Only after waking this morning did I realize just how enormous Deepwood Motte truly is!"
Jon paused briefly, his eyes first sweeping toward the north before suddenly turning south again.
"There are actually two baileys here?!"
Garon followed Jon's gaze and calmly explained.
"The North Bailey was newly expanded under my orders half a year ago and is still being constructed."
"As for the South Bailey, that has always been the family's original settlent."
After speaking, he glanced upward at the sky, realizing the hour was already getting late.
"Let's go. I'll take you through the North Bailey first and explain things little by little along the way."
Garon turned and walked down the nearby wooden staircase, with Jon and Laurence quickly following behind him.
As they headed toward the North Bailey, Garon continued introducing Deepwood Motte to Jon in detail.
Deepwood Motte was a typical motte-and-bailey style wooden fortress.
In other words, the castle itself was divided into two major sections.
The first was the residential stronghold atop the hill, while the second was the bailey settlent spread beneath it.
At the entrances connecting the hill to both the North and South Baileys stood pairs of square wooden towers linked together by elevated wall walkways.
For greater security, even the hilltop inner keep possessed both northern and southern gates.
If enemies managed to break through the outer baileys and attack the hill itself, House Glover could simply seal the gates and rain arrows down from above using the defensive towers.
The entirety of Deepwood Motte was centered around the hill, with the North and South Baileys spreading outward like wings.
Moss-covered timber palisades ford the outer walls.
Outside those walls lay a deep moat, sloped earthen embanknts, and sharpened log barriers that surrounded the fortress completely as defensive lines.
To the east and west stretched large open fields planted with oats and barley.
The crops were already approaching harvest season.
"I ordered construction of the North Bailey half a year ago because the family's population keeps growing, and the original South Bailey can no longer support everyone."
"Besides that, the long sumr is nearing its end, and winter is approaching."
As Garon descended the stairs, his voice beca slightly heavier.
"The four forest clans of the Wolfswood all swear allegiance to House Glover."
"I intend to build enough wooden houses here so they can seek shelter inside Deepwood Motte once winter truly arrives."
Jon instantly understood and smiled.
"Like Winter Town outside Winterfell?"
Garon nodded.
"Exactly."
After descending from the stairs, they followed the wooden corridor toward the North Gate.
Along the way, guards and servants who noticed Garon imdiately bowed respectfully and moved aside.
Garon smiled and greeted them warmly one by one.
When they arrived near the courtyard, Jon noticed several wooden support pillars already beginning to decay from age and moisture.
Unable to hold back his curiosity, he asked,
"Lord Garon, why doesn't Deepwood Motte use stone for its castle?"
"Wouldn't a stone fortress be far stronger?"
Garon lightly shook his head.
"There are reasons for that."
As he spoke, mories from his previous life surfaced in his mind.
In dieval Europe, similar motte-and-bailey castles had once existed everywhere.
The Normans had conquered much of England and France precisely through the rapid construction of such fortifications.
Because they were cheap and easy to build, they allowed territories to be secured quickly and at low cost.
However, wooden castles were highly vulnerable to fire and rot.
Over ti, most had gradually been replaced by sturdier stone castles.
Westeros followed much the sa historical pattern.
Today, perhaps only Deepwood Motte, hidden deep within the Wolfswood, still maintained such an old structure.
And the fundantal reason for that lay in its geography and history.
Deepwood Motte stood within the Wolfswood itself and therefore would never lack timber.
For thousands of years, House Glover had fought endlessly against raids from the Iron Islands.
Ti and ti again, the Ironborn attacked Deepwood Motte directly, often inflicting devastating damage upon the fortress.
Stone castles were indeed durable, but once heavily damaged, the cost of repairs beca unimaginably expensive.
Harrenhal was the perfect example.
A single assault of dragonfire had left that colossal fortress impossible to fully restore for centuries.
Wooden fortresses were entirely different.
Repair costs remained extrely low, and as long as old timber was regularly replaced, the castle could continue functioning indefinitely.
Because of this, Deepwood Motte had stubbornly continued relying on wooden fortifications throughout its generations of warfare against the Ironborn.
As they walked, Garon calmly explained these reasons to Jon.
Jon imdiately imagined generations of Glovers desperately battling Ironborn invaders beneath Deepwood Motte's walls.
"The Ironborn truly deserve death!"
The mont he rembered Theon's betrayal and Bran's near death, Jon could not help but curse angrily.
Hearing that, Laurence imdiately felt a little more goodwill toward Jon.
Laurence himself had been adopted into House Glover from childhood and had long absorbed the family's hatred toward the Ironborn.
Garon heard Jon's curse yet continued walking silently while thinking inwardly.
"There isn't much ti left before Balon Greyjoy's uprising."
"I need to help Jon integrate into House Glover as quickly as possible."
"Only if he truly identifies with House Glover can I entrust him with important responsibilities later."
He led the two out through the inner keep's North Gate and began descending the hillside.
"I need to find a way to make him adapt faster."
As Jon walked, he carefully observed the North Bailey below.
On the western side stood rows of newly built wooden houses.
On the eastern side were enormous stacks of cut timber piled high together.
South of those timber piles stood an even larger wooden structure with its doors tightly shut, making it impossible to see what was stored inside.
At that mont, groups of people gradually erged from the wooden houses on the western side and lazily gathered together in the center of the bailey.
"Oh? What are they doing?"
Jon asked curiously.
But Garon's eyes flickered slightly as a new idea suddenly ford in his mind.
He did not answer Jon's question.
Instead, he stopped midway down the hillside and quietly looked over the sluggish crowd gathering below.
The group consisted mostly of youths around Garon's own age.
They yawned repeatedly while assembling themselves lazily together.
Jon still looked confused, but Laurence beside him had already begun to panic.
He nervously glanced toward Garon while silently cursing in his heart.
"I clearly inford Ron yesterday that Garon was returning tonight."
"And they still dared gather this late."
"Damn it. Even I'm probably going to be punished alongside them now."
The three stood quietly upon the hillside for another five minutes before a black-haired youth suddenly rushed out frantically from a wooden house nearby.
Waving his arms wildly, he shouted toward the others.
"Lord Garon returned last night!"
"Hurry! Form ranks imdiately!"
The previously lazy youths instantly beca terrified.
Everyone hurriedly ford orderly lines and took their positions while silently waiting for Garon to approach.
Only then did Garon slowly turn toward Laurence.
His voice remained calm and emotionless.
"How many days have they been slacking off?"
Laurence's lips twitched nervously.
"Th-three days…"
Garon slowly narrowed his eyes.
An invisible pressure imdiately spread outward, causing Laurence's face to turn pale instantly.
"Let's go."
"We're heading over there."
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