The candlelight in the tent flickered, and the wind outside pushed against it.
Harrion raised his sword above his head, his gaze fixed on Jon.
Meici Severn followed suit.
"Jon, the soldiers of the Saiwen Family are also yours!"
After speaking, he also drew his sword like Harrion to show his stance.
"The House Manderly too!"
Soon, the sound of swords being drawn rang out one after another, like the prelude to some passionate music.
Everyone raised their swords above their heads, indicating their willingness to obey Jon's command.
A quick glance showed that such people accounted for two-thirds!
Jon hadn't expected to experience the treatment of a 'King in the North' so soon.
However, these people did not kneel before Jon.
But this declaration was a world apart from Jon's previous ostracized state.
Lord Roose Bolton's face grew even gloomier upon seeing this scene.
The candlelight shone on his face, and the shadows cast by his features flickered, like a conspiracy brewing.
In Lord Roose Bolton's opinion, Jon, as an unregarded bastard, could never resist such temptation.
Then, a struggle for military power between them would inevitably erupt.
Howland Reed, not far away, tensed his body and slowed his breathing.
'Jon, whatever you do, don't agree.'
'Write to Robb?' Lord Roose Bolton pondered, 'Or perhaps directly hand over command to him, and then…'
No matter what, he would not, and dared not, leave with the Dreadfort's army just like that.
There was no doubt that Robb and Jon, these two brothers, would settle accounts later.
It was possible that Dreadfort would become Jon's fief, and there would be no place for House Bolton in the North anymore.
Just as he was about to speak, Jon suddenly stood up.
'Is it starting?' Lord Roose Bolton's pupils contracted, and he secretly clenched his fists.
Jon faced everyone, then drew his sword.
At this moment, Lord Roose Bolton's heart began to pound; he remembered a time he had bled too much, and his heart had beaten as fast as it did now.
But the next second, Jon slowly spoke:
"Gentlemen, I know you have grievances with Lord Bolton because of this battle, but in that situation, abandoning an already lost battlefield was the wise choice.
Robb entrusted the command of the main army and the task of containing Tywin to Lord Bolton, which was undoubtedly wise."
"Hmm?"
Jon's statement surprised Lord Roose Bolton.
He couldn't believe it, couldn't believe it, Jon would actually speak up for him?
He stared wide-eyed at the young man's back, and Jon continued:
"I am just a young man on the battlefield for the first time; look at my face, my beard isn't even fully grown. If I were you, would you agree to the suggestions I made?"
Lord Roose Bolton's body trembled, confirming that Jon was indeed speaking up for him.
And coming from Jon's mouth, the credibility would naturally be much higher.
Those who had just been clamoring to support Jon's ascension finally calmed down.
Howland Reed's eyes even shone with incredible light.
He hadn't expected Jon to resist such temptation.
Jon left his seat and walked to the front of the Northern lords, positioning himself right between Lord Roose Bolton and the others.
"Jon, you have proven yourself," a House Manderly noble said.
"But there was too much luck involved. What if the Flood had come later?" Jon retorted.
"My lords, I believe the most important thing in war is to obey orders.
And letting Lord Bolton command the army is Robb's order. Now that my father is imprisoned, Robb's order is the highest command in the North!" As he spoke, Jon drew his sword.
With a crack, he split the chair in front of him.
A cold flash, and the chair shattered into pieces, making those nearby tremble.
"If anyone dares to make noise or disobey orders again, I guarantee his fate will be the same as this chair!
Now, please, all of you, take your seats."
Everyone who had just been urging Jon to take command of the army sat down, but their admiration for Jon deepened.
Seeing the commotion subside, Jon said:
"My lords, please forgive my rudeness just now. After all, our enemies are right across from us, and we absolutely cannot do anything that would please them!"
Some people sheathed their swords and regained their composure.
"Jon is right."
"We thought too little."
Everyone echoed, and Jon turned to Lord Roose Bolton and bowed slightly.
Lord Roose Bolton forced an ugly smile, then signaled his subordinates to bring him a new chair.
The reason Jon didn't want this so-called command was that most people weren't genuinely supporting him; they were merely resentful that Lord Roose Bolton had abandoned them.
Furthermore, if it really came down to Robb, he might not agree.
Instead, by clearly stating his 'support' for Lord Roose Bolton, the latter, in order to appease the other lords, would have to seek Jon's agreement for every future battle plan.
Indirectly, Jon's say had also been greatly enhanced.
Indeed, the events that followed confirmed Jon's guess.
Lord Roose Bolton, having 'regained' command, spoke:
"Gentlemen, our objective of attracting the attention of the Westerlands army in this battle has been achieved.
Next, I plan to withdraw the army to the riverbanks near Luanhe City, as we lack cavalry."
After speaking, Lord Roose Bolton looked at everyone, his words uncharacteristically containing an explanation.
Unfortunately, no one spoke; everyone silently looked at Jon.
Jon felt the gaze of the others and said loudly:
"Lord Bolton's decision is very wise."
Seeing Jon's approval, the others also responded:
"Lord Bolton is right."
"Yes, we should withdraw first."
"Indeed, we have many wounded soldiers."
Although his order was accepted, Lord Roose Bolton still felt as if he had eaten dirt.
Jon had not contended with him for command, but command had, in fact, shifted.
Now, every one of his orders would have to be approved by Jon before it could be implemented.
What was the difference between him and a mere mouthpiece?
And the inconspicuous Howland Reed looked at Jon with approval, wondering how Eddard had raised such a 'good nephew'.
Just as Lord Roose Bolton was secretly annoyed, Jon suddenly spoke to him with a suggestion:
"Lord Bolton, we actually fought this battle quite well. Perhaps we can use this as a condition to negotiate with Tywin,
and at least ensure my father's safety first."
According to the original course of events, Eddard could be beheaded at any moment now.
Jon wanted to fight for him.
After all, he was the nominal adoptive father of his former self, and his actual maternal uncle; if he could be saved, he should be saved.
"That's right! Those Westerlanders have already felt our might; we should make contact!"
"I support Jon's proposal!"
"I support it too!"
Seeing Jon's call met with a hundred responses, Lord Roose Bolton had no choice.
After all, his suggestion was beyond reproach.
After all, if they really had to fight all the way to King's Landing, many people would die.
Don't let the Northern nobles' thunderous slogans fool you; they were clearly calculating their own interests.
Lord Roose Bolton nodded, indicating that he would first send envoys to contact the Westerlands army camp.
Finally, Jon also brought up the matter of having the veteran mountain clansmen join his command.
Lord Roose Bolton naturally agreed without a second thought.
After the meeting, Jon left, surrounded by a crowd of nobles.
After this concession, his prestige clearly rose another notch.
No one dared to bring up his bastard status again, otherwise Harrion or Meici Severn would casually chop off the head of any insolent fellow.
"Jon, since you are unwilling to accept command of the army, those captives and battle merits are yours to claim," Meici Severn said after leaving the tent.
"Yes, Jon, we know those captives cannot repay your life-saving kindness, but please accept them."
"Please accept them! If you don't, we won't leave!"
Everyone clamored, and Jon could only nod.
"Alright, I appreciate everyone's kindness. My lords, please go back and rest. I'll go see those captives."
Jon thought that the equipment on those Westerlands soldier captives was quite good.
Even the weapons used by the wildlings of the mountain clans were better than those of the old veterans.
Perhaps they could be stripped off and given to those old soldiers.
Don't think that those people, being over fifty years old, wouldn't fight much worse than young people on the battlefield after some nutritional supplementation.
Moreover, these old veterans were not afraid of death; all they thought about was how to die more advantageously.
As long as they were well-managed, their fighting spirit would be top-notch in Seven Kingdoms!