"Where exactly is Jon? Why did he leave me here! Is he attacking King's Landing?"
"It's not like that, Lady Arya. Lord Jon will be back soon."
In a room at the Tower of Dread, Old York was frantically trying to comfort Arya.
They were in the very room Prince Daemon once occupied. Old York looked at the scratches Daemon left behind, feeling as if he could understand the prince's anxiety before facing the dragon Vhagar.
Old York truly couldn't understand why Jon would stage a mutiny that offered him no apparent benefit. With his military achievements, a title and lands in the future were guaranteed.
Before Jon acted, he had asked Old York to stay in the Tower of Dread to prevent Arya from getting hurt in any ensuing chaos. Now that everyone knew Arya's identity, no one in Harrenhal would dare harm her.
But Old York knew this was actually Jon looking out for him. After all, he was over sixty and couldn't be of much help in the operation. Gods bless this young man, let him accomplish what he sets out to do, Old York prayed silently, hoping Jon would get his wish.
What bad intentions could someone who risked his life to save others on the battlefield have? He just knew Jon must have his reasons.
Suddenly, a familiar face appeared in Old York's line of sight. It was Munda, who had joined Jon's army alongside Martyn.
"Ser, Lord Jon has the situation under control," Munda said excitedly.
Hearing this news, Old York let out a long sigh of relief. Beside him, Arya kept asking:
"What situation? What happened to Jon? Tell me, quickly—"
---
Meanwhile, in the Kingpyre Tower.
"Jon, will the Tyrells and Lannisters really ally? Joffrey is a Lannister!"
The speaker was also a Mormont. As a Bear Islander, he was politically naive.
"As long as there is a need, a prince can become a bastard, and a bastard can become a prince." The Mormont mulled over Jon's words, feeling something was off but unable to refute it.
"And if you're wrong?" asked Wendel Manderly. Though obese, as a Manderly, he was always cautious.
"Since the army set out, when have I been wrong?" Jon retorted immediately, leaving everyone speechless.
Beside him, Roose Bolton scoffed, wanting to rebut but shutting his mouth.
Though arrogant, it was the truth. Still, Jon patiently explained:
"I think you all know that Margaery, the youngest daughter of House Tyrell, is my age and renowned for her beauty. The condition for the Tyrell alliance with Renly was for Renly to make Margaery his queen. Now Renly is dead. Originally, my sister Sansa was to be Joffrey's queen, but now Stark and Lannister are sworn enemies. If House Tyrell still wants a crown, where should they get it?"
Then Jon switched to a stern tone: "If Stannis loses, the North becomes fish on the chopping block. Only by taking the initiative and keeping the war away from our homeland is the best choice, isn't it?"
Listening to Jon's analysis, everyone nodded. However, someone still unconvinced spoke up: "There's also King Robb."
"King Robb is already betrothed to House Frey," a noble stood up and said. No need to introduce himself; his weak chin was the best proof of identity.
"Yes, House Stark has a marriage alliance with House Frey. As Northerners, we must keep our word, right?" Jon seized the moment to flatter them. No one in the hall spoke against it.
"Jon, must it really be this way?" Medger Cerwyn looked at the hostage Roose Bolton beside him, his heart still drumming.
"If it were you, would you be willing to trust Lord Bolton with your back?" Since Roose Bolton had started calling Jon a "bastard," Jon saw no need to save face for him.
Hearing Jon say this about him, Roose Bolton immediately wanted to retort. He widened his eyes and opened his mouth, but in the end, said nothing, turning his gaze to the others.
But after hearing Jon's words, the others nodded in agreement instead.
There was no helping it; the fact that he abandoned the main army at the Green Fork was deeply ingrained in everyone's minds.
Although there was no tactical error, Jon had turned the tide, saving Medger Cerwyn and Harrion, then went to Darry to kill The Mountain, saving House Darry from extinction. These two actions contrasted sharply with Bolton's, like two long nails pinning Roose Bolton to a pillar of shame.
"I asked Lord Bolton, and he didn't agree to my marching on King's Landing. Moreover, Robb wants me to hand over command and go to Riverrun. I had no choice."
After a while, Harrion spoke: "Jon, I'm with you. Karstark and Stark are one. I must fight to King's Landing and avenge Lord Eddard!"
"Though I'm not qualified, I thank you on behalf of House Stark," Jon said, looking at him.
Harrion's declaration embarrassed Medger Cerwyn slightly, as he too had been saved by Jon on the battlefield.
But King's Landing wasn't close, and they might face the Tyrell army, which made him uneasy.
Medger Cerwyn stood up slowly, as if the chair were biting his backside: "Jon, I'm grateful you saved my life. If not for you, I'd either be dead or a Lannister prisoner. But now—"
"I understand your meaning," Jon said. "I'll trouble you to guard Harrenhal. You are one of the people I trust most."
Earl Cerwyn wanted to say that Jon was staging a mutiny, essentially disobeying Robb's orders. But seeing Jon trust him so much moved him.
He hesitated and said, "But Jon, you make sense. I... I have thirteen hundred men. I... I'll give you half."
"Thank you."
Hearing this, the Manderlys and Mormonts followed suit.
"I'll give you half too."
"Me too."
Finally, the Frey also gave Jon half his men.
This fit the Frey family's consistent investment strategy—playing it safe.
If Jon lost, they were "coerced into splitting forces." If he won, they contributed and earned merit.
Finally, Jon looked at Vargo Hoat, who hadn't spoken.
Feeling Jon's gaze, Vargo Hoat subconsciously sat up straight. As commander of the Brave Companions, he also had over two thousand men.
But Jon's strategic goal was too risky. He stammered:
"Lord Jon, I can't decide this alone. Mercenaries just want to make a living—"
"I don't want your soldiers," Jon interrupted him directly. "The Brave Companions delivered Harrenhal to the North. This is your merit, and the North will not forget it. In the coming war, you can stay here and stand with the North, or withdraw from the war. But if you stand with the Lannisters again, you know my methods and capabilities."
Listening to Jon's grim, cold words, Vargo Hoat felt no indignation, instead forcing a flexible smile:
"Rest assured, my Lord. A mercenary company that flips repeatedly only ruins its reputation and lowers its commission. We are here to sell our lives; naturally, we hope for a good price."
In the end, Jon assembled an army of fifteen thousand men.
Compared to the massive Harrenhal, this army was as insignificant as a wisp of smoke leaving a chimney.
But with this army, Jon intended to formally step onto the center stage of the Seven Kingdoms!
---
A carriage bumped along the road to Riverrun.
Inside the carriage, Arya's curses and pleas had ceased at some point. An ominous feeling seized Old York. He abruptly stopped the carriage and lifted the curtain—the carriage was empty.
Only a plank at the bottom of the carriage had been pried open, revealing the bumpy dirt road below. A cold wind blew in, chilling the heart.