White Harbor was known as the "Mouth of the North," a warm-water port that remained open even during the harshest winters.
Its rich fishing grounds and skilled silversmiths had once made it one of the North's busiest cities.
Now...
The fishermen no longer sailed.
Most of the silversmiths had lost their homes.
The salty air was thick with the smell of the sea, fish, and smoke.
The broad cobblestone streets, once bustling with life, were nearly deserted.
Only a handful of frightened people hurried through the city, constantly looking over their shoulders.
Others dragged stolen belongings through narrow alleys.
Some even pulled terrified women by the hair while shouting wildly.
Many of the white stone houses with dark slate roofs stood abandoned.
Their doors had been smashed open.
Some had already been reduced to blackened ruins.
---
"Requests for reinforcements have already been sent."
"But at the moment..."
"The only force likely to arrive is the army from the Vale."
Maester Theomer spoke while sorting through a stack of letters.
Occasionally, he handed one to Lord Wyman Manderly.
Theomer originally came from the Lannister family of Lannisport before becoming a maester and serving House Manderly.
He was a stout man with curly blond hair, ruddy cheeks, and thin lips.
Dark circles beneath his eyes revealed his exhaustion.
Lord Wyman Manderly—known throughout the realm as Lord Lamprey—sat upon a specially reinforced throne built to support his immense weight.
He accepted the letter with considerable effort before letting out a weary sigh.
"House Manderly owes House Stark a debt stretching back nine hundred years."
"When we were driven from the Reach and left wandering without a home..."
"It was the Kings of Winter who welcomed us."
"They granted us White Harbor."
"We swore our loyalty beneath the heart tree in the Wolf's Den before both the Old Gods and the New."
His expression grew heavy.
"Our duty was to defend the White Knife."
"But we failed."
"The North is now under attack from every direction."
"Other northern lords must clean up the mess we left behind."
"The responsibility is ours."
As he spoke, Wyman looked through the castle window.
The enemy fleet had completely blockaded White Harbor.
Mercenary ships disguised as merchant vessels controlled the bay.
Nearly half the city had already fallen.
Maester Theomer offered quiet comfort.
"You protected your people from slaughter."
"That compassion should not be forgotten."
He returned his attention to the letters.
---
The pale towers of New Castle stood proudly atop the White Walls.
The banners of House Manderly fluttered above the fortress.
From the castle hill, both the inner and outer harbors could be seen clearly.
At present...
Only the area surrounding the castle remained under House Manderly's control.
Fortunately, White Harbor's population was not especially large.
Soldiers wrapped in blue-green cloaks stood guard, gripping their silver tridents tightly.
Lord Wyman sighed.
"I should have prevented this disaster."
He looked toward Maester Theomer.
Although Tywin Lannister bore the greatest responsibility for the North's suffering...
Theomer himself had been born into House Lannister before taking his vows.
Even without his family name...
That blood connection remained.
Theomer noticed the growing distrust in his lord's eyes.
After a brief pause, he answered calmly.
"The Vale knights escorting supplies to the Wall cannot spare additional troops."
"They fear attacks from roaming rebels."
"The only reinforcements we can truly rely upon are those already marching from Moat Cailin."
He quietly shifted the conversation back to military matters and offered another pair of letters.
This meeting took place within the Merman's Court, the great hall of New Castle.
The walls, floor, and ceiling were built from polished timber decorated with carvings of sea creatures.
At one end stood the entrance.
At the other...
Lord Wyman sat upon his great padded throne.
This time, however...
He made no move to accept the letters.
Instead, he stared directly at his maester.
"Tell me honestly, Theomer."
"Everything happening here..."
"It has nothing to do with you."
The guards gripping their silver tridents immediately turned toward the maester.
Theomer's face stiffened.
After a long silence, he replied.
"Lord Triston Sunderland has already informed us that House Torrent's lord and many others were murdered upon landing at Sisterton."
"I am only a maester."
"Whatever Lord Tywin has done..."
"It has nothing to do with me."
"Nor am I responsible for the tragedy unfolding here."
Before anyone could respond...
A loud commotion erupted outside the hall.
Moments later...
A soldier burst through the doors.
"My lord!"
"There's a dragon outside!"
Wyman blinked in confusion.
"A... what?"
"A dragon!"
"A gigantic golden dragon!"
"It's as large as a ship..."
"And it's flying!"
Maester Theomer reacted first.
"King Karl..."
"He's here."
News of Karl's dragon had already spread throughout Westeros after the battle at Highgarden.
No one could mistake such a creature.
Lord Wyman's face immediately lit up.
"Hurry!"
"We must welcome His Majesty!"
With the help of several servants, the heavyset lord struggled to his feet before hurrying toward the entrance.
---
High above White Harbor...
The enormous dragon circled through the sky.
It soon spotted Lord Wyman's unmistakable blue cloak.
With overwhelming force...
The dragon descended into the square before Merman's Court.
Before it had fully landed...
A man clad in green-blue armor leaped from its back.
The drop of several meters seemed effortless.
He landed smoothly.
Everyone present immediately understood who stood before them.
The King.
Lord Wyman hurried forward, attempting to kneel.
Before he could lower himself completely...
A powerful hand firmly caught his arm.
The grip felt as solid as forged iron.
Karl looked directly into Wyman's eyes.
His voice carried unmistakable fury.
"Tell me."
"Who are the enemy?"
Lord Wyman immediately pointed toward the occupied harbor.
The dragon launched into the sky once more.
Only yesterday...
Robert had destroyed the fleets of the Iron Islands.
Today...
He had come to White Harbor.
Karl drew a massive Valyrian steel greatsword.
Heartsbane.
The ancestral blade of House Tarly.
Now...
His trophy.
He looked toward Lord Wyman.
"Gather your men."
"We're taking back White Harbor."
Karl had already surveyed the city from above.
What he had seen filled him with anger.
Unlike the Ironborn or the island fishermen...
These foreign mercenaries had come only to plunder.
They had no loyalty to this land.
No concern for its people.
Karl had already reached his judgment.
Death.
---
Lord Wyman hesitated only briefly.
Then determination returned to his face.
"Your Majesty..."
"Allow me to fight beside you."
"House Manderly awaits your command."
Karl silently accepted.
The counterattack began.
---
Robert swept across the harbor.
Blue-tinged dragonfire consumed every enemy ship Lord Wyman had pointed out.
One after another...
The vessels disappeared beneath roaring flames.
Mercenaries who leaped into the sea found no escape.
The dragon hunted them before turning back toward White Harbor.
At the same time...
Karl led the soldiers from New Castle downhill into the occupied districts.
Lord Wyman fought at his side.
Despite his enormous size...
The aging lord showed no fear.
Sword in hand...
He charged into battle.
After cutting down one enemy, he raised his bloodstained blade high.
"The North remembers!"
With the support of White Harbor's soldiers, he crashed into another armored mercenary.
The two men tumbled to the ground.
Drawing his dagger, Wyman finished the fight.
"Long live White Harbor!"
Revenge burned through every soldier's veins.
Looking toward Karl...
Lord Wyman witnessed an unforgettable sight.
The King's path through the battlefield was marked by fallen enemies stretching across the streets.
His armor had been stained crimson.
No one could stand before him.
The enemy's courage collapsed.
Wyman glanced down at the man he had just defeated.
Then he lifted his sword once more.
"Long live King Karl!"
"Long live White Harbor!"
"Long live King Karl!"
His voice echoed through the city as he pressed forward again.
Karl had allowed him to stand at his side.
That honor alone filled him with renewed strength.
---
The battle continued from morning until nightfall.
Enemy resistance gradually collapsed.
The burning fleet in the harbor and the dragon circling overhead shattered the remaining mercenaries' will to fight.
Karl accepted no surrender.
For him...
Their crimes had already been judged.
The sentence...
Death.
For the people of White Harbor, the answer was no different.
The atrocities committed over the previous days would not be forgotten.
As darkness approached, hidden mercenaries were still being discovered throughout the city.
They were brought to the docks for execution.
When it was over, the severed heads were gathered together into towering piles facing the sea, while the bodies were stacked beside them.
Karl looked upon the grim monument.
"This..."
"is called a Jingguan."
The people struggled to pronounce the unfamiliar word.
But they would never forget its meaning.
Just as...
The North would never forget.
________________________________________
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