Departure for the Moon Mountains

"My lord, Jon has already left the camp."

"I know."

The one reporting to Roose Bolton was Bolin, a retainer of Dreadfort.

He commanded Dreadfort's elite archers.

Jon had not even met him on this return trip. He knew it was because of Howland Reed.

Ever since Jon had been sent by Robb to "assist" him, the two had been enemies.

Jon's martial skill was monstrously formidable, but the nearly four thousand direct troops of Dreadfort in his hands were his true foundation.

As long as he had those men, Jon could not stir up any trouble.

He could still maintain unparalleled influence over the Northern Army.

As for Jon going to the Moon Mountains to recruit the tribal Wildlings, he did not care in the slightest.

If those people could be recruited, the closer Vale men would have made their move long ago. Why would they leave it to an unknown nobody?

At that moment, a letter drifted onto Roose Bolton's desk.

It was a letter sent by order of his bastard son, Ramsay.

"Oh?! Jon stopped Robb from becoming king?"

Seeing the contents of the letter, Roose Bolton leaned closer to the paper as though he could not believe it.

A string of new plans formed in his mind.

Plans that could utterly dismantle Jon's influence in the army.

Jon soon set out for the Moon Mountains.

He brought ten Winterfell soldiers as combat support, along with ten veteran Mountain Clans warriors as reserves.

Though these old veterans might not match Winterfell's young soldiers in physical strength or fighting ability, their endurance was exceptional.

Then, with Kuno—the tribal Wildling who had sought his help on behalf of the Fire Witches that day—as their guide, Jon and his group began advancing toward the Moon Mountains.

On the road, Old York enthusiastically began recounting legends about dragons.

"The last Targaryen dragon, Dawn, hatched in the Vale. Sadly, it did not live long and died soon afterward.

"And that Aegon III, a king who was actually afraid of dragons... ah—"

Old York let out a long sigh, looking deeply regretful.

Jon knew that Targaryen dragons were Old York's favorite topic.

He knew every Targaryen dragon like the back of his hand.

Jon reckoned that news of Daenerys hatching dragons would reach Westeros before long.

When that happened, the old man would probably be delighted.

But Jon had no interest in dragons for now.

Unless he truly had a dragon he could command, a Dragon Egg was not very useful.

He began asking Kuno about the Moon Mountains in greater detail.

She said that at least a dozen tribes had still not joined the Lannisters.

Those tribes could provide quite a few warriors for Jon's use.

At first, Jon had indeed been full of hope.

But the tragic scenes he saw along the way left him feeling somewhat sorrowful.

Under Tywin's orders, the Westerlands army had subjected the Riverlands to inhuman devastation.

The nearly ripe crops in the fields, as far as the eye could see, had either been burned to ash, blackened like scars upon the earth.

Or trampled into ruin beneath horses' hooves.

The villages were even worse. Riverlands civilians had no choice but to abandon their homes and flee disaster.

There were even abandoned corpses by the roadside.

Only stray dogs and cats prowled through those houses.

Looking at those miserable sights, Jon reminded himself that he was different from the lords of Westeros.

Those people played the Game of Thrones to gain greater power and satisfy their greed.

He did it to preserve humanity's strength, so that they would have a better chance of resisting the White Walkers in the future.

It was not because he was particularly noble.

Mainly because he could only enjoy life after the White Walkers were destroyed.

After several days of travel, the Moon Mountains, which Jon's group had been seeing in the distance for days, were finally close at hand.

As the Vale's barrier, the Moon Mountains were taller and broader than The Wall.

The endless green mountains especially resembled a perilous Labyrinth, utterly incapable of allowing a large army to pass through.

The only gateway into the Vale was the Blood Gate.

The Vale men merely needed to close the Blood Gate to rule themselves.

Had the Targaryens not conquered them on dragonback, the Vale could have kept its own crown.

But Jon's group was not headed for the Blood Gate, but for the tribes scattered among those endless mountains.

After another two days in the mountains, Jon used the Gods' Eye and sensed a sizable settlement, with roughly three to four thousand people.

Kuno came before Jon and said:

"My lord, our Painted Dog Tribe is just ahead. Please allow me to go explain the situation to them."

"All right." Jon agreed to her request, then turned and said, "Old York, go with Kuno."

"At your command, my lord."

Before long, Kuno and Old York returned with a group of tribal warriors clad in leather and linen.

Dog-like tattoos flickered beneath their clothes.

"Why has another group of Ironborn come?" one young tribal warrior spoke up. He had long arms and legs and was clearly more agile-looking than the others.

There was a trace of contempt in the way he looked at Jon's group.

Especially when he saw the old Mountain Clans soldiers.

The Mountain Clans and the highland clans treated the elderly differently.

For the former, the elderly chose death for themselves when food was scarce.

For the latter, they were driven away by their families.

In this young warrior's eyes, these old men were already so old that they should hand over their good equipment to the young!

But Kuno did not explain all that to him. Instead, she came before Jon and said:

"Haken, this is Lord Jon. He has come to negotiate with our tribal elders."

The young warrior called Haken came before Jon and narrowed his eyes as he inspected him from head to toe.

In truth, he had noticed from the start that Jon was the leader of this group.

But he looked far too young.

Haken knew the rules "outside."

Regardless of age or martial skill, as long as someone's father held high status, his son would be respected as well.

To him, outsiders were truly foolish.

Making an inexperienced brat their leader would sooner or later lead them all into a ditch.

"You're their... chief? No, in your terms, that should be lord?"

"More or less. They are indeed my warriors, and I want to speak with your elders." Jon answered with a faint smile, his habitual expression before negotiating business.

"Just you?" Haken scoffed. "Whatever you have to say, say it to me."

"Haken!" Kuno quickly rebuked him from the side. "Lord Jon is our guest. Don't be so rude."

Since even Kuno said so, the young tribal warrior could only step aside and make way.

As expected of someone close to the Fire Witches. It seemed she held some status after all.

Seeing Haken and the others trailing behind them, Old York took the chance to ask Kuno:

"Why didn't you tell him directly that your Fire Witches are in our hands?"

Kuno frowned slightly, pursed her lips, and said:

"Haken has a fiery temper. He is our tribe's strongest warrior. If we told them now, you might not even make it inside."

"The strongest?" Old York glanced back at Haken, a trace of disdain flashing through his eyes.

If he was as amazing as they claimed, why hadn't he gone to war with you?

After asking around, he learned that when the Painted Dog Tribe had decided to send troops, Haken had been out hunting and thus missed it.

Soon, everyone arrived at the Painted Dog Tribe, which had a distinctly lived-in atmosphere.

To Jon, it felt like a small mountain village.

The children here all wore linen outer garments and straw sandals, their faces marked by dried snot or tears.

Some even smaller children simply ran around in sack-like clothes.

"The Ironborn are here! The Ironborn are here!"

The children shouted warnings one after another, vanishing into the grass like rabbits.

The entire tribe soon stirred into commotion.

Fortunately, the disturbance quickly subsided. When Kuno had explained the situation to Haken earlier, they had already sent someone back to notify the tribe.

Before long, two figures who were clearly elders emerged.

One of them had completely gray hair and beard, with eyebrows that nearly swept into his temples. He stood before Jon.

Simply standing there, he radiated the bearing of a ruler in his own right.

As for the other elder beside him, though the two seemed to hold equal status, their presence was clearly worlds apart.

This imposing elder looked at Jon and asked:

"Outsider, we have already sent warriors. Have you come to fulfill your promise?"

Jon stepped forward and replied:

"No. I am not one of the Ironborn you met. They are my enemies. Your Fire Witches are now with our army. I have reached an agreement with them. From today onward, you are to join my army and serve me."

"What did you say?!" Haken nearly leaped out at once.

"You seized our Fire Witches by force! Mountain God and Moon God above, I'll have your life!"