The golden lion banner fell, and the farmer's banner once again fluttered above Darry City.
"Uncle, I have already reclaimed Darry City for our House."
Martin watched the soldiers transport supplies and the wounded, re-garrison, and repair fortifications, feeling incredibly invigorated.
He clenched his fist and knocked twice on the parapet of the city wall.
Footsteps approached, and Mond ran over to report the casualties of the battle to him.
"We had two knights killed in action, and one knight wounded.
Additionally, fifty-seven spearmen were killed, and eighty-three were wounded, with minor injuries among them... Also, the southwestern city wall seems to be damaged; we need to find a way to repair it."
Listening to Mond's report, Martin's brow furrowed but quickly relaxed.
The casualties in this battle were not small, but they were not unacceptably large either.
Achieving such a result was largely thanks to the two hundred archers sent by Roose Bolton.
The archers' 'fire support' indeed played a significant role when they stormed the city walls.
Martin said,
"Alright, I understand. For now, just block it with rammed earth and fences. The Westerlands army shouldn't be back anytime soon. Also, let everyone rest and recover. We'll go see Ser Bolin."
Bolin was a sworn sword sent by Bolton, and he was in charge of commanding the two hundred archers.
Martin and his brother Mond quickly met Bolin.
At this moment, he was directing soldiers to retrieve usable arrows.
Seeing Martin and the others, he immediately smiled.
"Lord Martin, Lord Mond."
"Ser Bolin."
The three greeted each other, and Martin expressed his gratitude to Bolin and Roose Bolton.
"It's nothing. Now the Riverlands and the North are both guarding the same crown. You two don't need to be so polite."
Bolin subtly expressed the positions of both sides, reminding Martin and Mond of Jon's arrogant declaration at Riverrun that day.
Jon was currently the only person in the entire North + Riverlands who did not recognize Robb's kingship.
Soon, the three returned to Darry City.
Fortunately, even when the Lannister army occupied Darry City, they did not make trouble for the cooks and messmen.
Now that they had driven away the Westerlands army, the cooks and messmen continued to serve them.
They were like the 'software' or 'wetware' of Darry City; no one noticed them, and no one harmed them.
Of course, if the Mountain had come, it would be a different story.
This time, not only Martin and the others, but Lyman was also pulled out to dine with them, mainly to express gratitude.
At Martin's signal, Lyman raised his wine glass and stood up, but he wasn't tall enough, so there was no change between sitting and standing.
"Thank you for your help, Ser Bolin. House Darry will forever remember this kindness."
"Ser Lyman, you're too kind."
Bolin didn't take this young Earl seriously at all, merely shifting his weight slightly.
Young Lyman winced as the wine in his glass stung him, causing the others to burst into laughter.
He was now a mascot with no authority whatsoever.
Fortunately, he didn't notice it himself.
Bolin suddenly spoke,
"Well, my Lords, since House Darry has recovered Darry City, I should return to report to Lord Bolton.
I originally intended to leave these archers with you, but as you know, King Robb appointed Jon as quartermaster, but Lord Bolton and Jon..."
Before leaving, Bolin did not forget to sow discord between the others and Jon.
"I understand your concerns. Regarding this matter, I will find a way to write to King Robb to explain."
Seeing that his goal of sowing discord had been achieved, Bolin smiled slightly.
Although the meal was not lavish, the host and guests conversed happily.
The next day, Bolin led his troops and departed.
After Bolin left, the three brothers, including Lyman, headed straight for House Darry's cellar.
Seeing that the cellar had not been damaged, all three let out a long sigh of relief.
The cellar held a secret that House Darry had buried for over a decade.
Martin took out a key, opened the cellar, and ordered people to move the contents out of the cellar.
House Darry's secret turned out to be a series of portraits.
When the black cloth covering the portraits was lifted, it revealed that these were all human portraits.
Only, the people in these portraits all had silver hair and purple eyes, and were exceptionally handsome.
These were, astonishingly, portraits of all the Targaryen kings throughout history!
House Darry's feelings towards the Targaryens could not be simply summarized as loyalty; it also carried an unparalleled adoration.
Their ancestors once said: 'Dragonfire clears the land, farmers plow the earth; we are born to stand with the Dragon Kings.'
Even though the Dragon Kings were long gone, their loyalty had never wavered.
Compared to other nobles in the Riverlands, they were truly anomalies.
Martin ordered the servants to move these portraits to a well-ventilated area.
After all, House Darry had just suffered heavy losses, and a Baratheon sat on the iron throne.
It would be very troublesome to repair them.
Lyman also stayed by the side, watching the servants move the portraits.
Suddenly, he saw a familiar face.
"Wait."
Lyman waved his hand to stop them, and Mond beside him was a little surprised.
"What's wrong?"
"Look at this portrait."
Lyman came before a portrait of a Targaryen king and spoke.
No, this was not a portrait of a Targaryen king; this was a portrait of Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.
At that time, everyone believed that Rhaegar would become the next king after the Mad King.
Ser Darry at that time had already eagerly commissioned someone to secretly paint Rhaegar.
"Don't you feel he resembles someone?"
"Who?" Looking at Rhaegar's portrait, the only one who wasn't a king, Mond really couldn't tell who it resembled.
"I can't quite say, but he just does."
Mond didn't take it to heart, assuming Lyman had simply seen too many people in Riverrun... Lyman had not stayed in his own room as before, but had moved into the room of his father, Raymon Darry, who was killed by the Mountain.
However, Raymon's room was simply too large, and Lyman was a little unaccustomed to it.
And there was still a smell in the room.
It wasn't left by his father; it was a strange, pungent smell.
Needless to say, this must have been left by the Westerlands people.
Although the maids had already cleaned it, Lyman still felt the smell lingering at his nostrils.
He tossed and turned sleeplessly for the first half of the night, only falling into a dream when it was almost dawn.
In his dream, he saw Darry City everywhere ablaze with fire and blood.
Thick, crimson blood spread along the battlements and stairs.
The castle was filled with the smell of blood and charring.
Outside, the sounds of crying and pleading gradually drowned out the sounds of fighting.
Lyman was so scared that he didn't even have the strength to run away.
He stayed in his room, but the door to the room was forcibly broken open.
With a crash, it was as if a roaring, bloodthirsty beast had burst in.
He hid under the bed, but someone grabbed his ankle and dragged him out from under the bed.
That feeling of terror was almost palpable.
When Lyman woke up, he found that the bed beneath him was soaked.