Three Blows to Scatter the Souls of Soldier Thugs; Ser, I'm a Northerner

The small town that had formed near Winterfell actually had a name: Winter Town.

But after Robb assembled his army, these towns were packed with soldiers from all across the North.

One should not expect much moral character from soldiers in a feudal age.

Even nobles like Roose Bolton simply moved into commoners' houses whenever they took a liking to them, let alone ordinary soldiers.

The right of first night had only been abolished here two hundred years ago.

That was only out of respect for the Starks. Otherwise, atrocities like rape and murder would have been nothing unusual.

But Robb had no time to deal with such matters. Handling the schemes of those lords had already exhausted him.

And Jon's first battle would be to use these soldier thugs as an example.

Several soldier thugs were gathered around the entrance of an inn not far away.

They pointed at a middle-aged man who was forcing a smile and shouted at him.

"Son of a bitch, we're about to march out and fight the Lannisters, and you still want money for us staying here a few days?!"

"Yeah! What money do you want?!"

The leader stood with one hand on his hip, pointing at the innkeeper, while the others joined in the jeering.

"My lords, it hasn't been just a few days. It's been two months. And I've given you the best food and drink I have. If you don't pay, my inn can't stay open."

"Then don't keep it open. I think your daughter looks good. How about she marries me, and this little inn can be her dowry? Hahaha!"

Jon could not help frowning at the arrogant postures of those soldier thugs.

He knew that the relationship between soldiers and civilians in his own era had been an exception, but seeing such an absurd scene with his own eyes still disgusted him.

Game of Thrones was not merely about the maneuvers and struggles of nobles. It was also built on the blood, tears, and bones of countless ordinary people.

At this moment, the Westerlands army was ravaging the Riverlands.

Tywin had ordered the Mountain to burn farmland throughout the Riverlands, murder and plunder commoners, and spread terror and chaos.

Having received the order, the Mountain freely raped, pillaged, and abducted those pitiful commoners.

In that Lannister lord's eyes, commoners were nothing more than weeds.

The Mountain was the fire. Once the weeds were burned, they would grow back anyway.

With this bunch of ape-like lords shining so brightly, it was hard to say which side ordinary people would stand on when the White Walkers arrived.

"This is where House Rosse and House Shuta are stationed. Their soldiers often clash, causing trouble that reaches Robb... and they harass commoners as well."

Theon stood beside Jon, explaining the situation to him.

Jon had never even heard of those two houses.

They were probably minor, low-ranking knightly houses, not even qualified to enter Robb's study.

After all, below dukes came counts, and below counts came viscounts and barons.

Their histories were not long either. They were not vassals of any other house, making them standard soft targets.

Jon nodded, leaning on a long five-colored staff as he turned to the others.

"Keep your sticks ready. Remember what I taught you: first blow, hit the mouth so they can't beg; second blow, hit the legs so they can't run. Once they're on the ground, beat them as hard as you can!"

"Understood, my lord!"

The men Robb had assigned to Jon were all hot-blooded youths of seventeen, eighteen, or nineteen.

Although this would not be a real battle, it was enough to excite them.

Even Theon was no exception.

This time, they not only had the numbers, but also the advantage of surprise. If they still lost, they might as well go home and farm.

Jon looked at the unyielding soldier thugs, then at the helpless, frightened innkeeper and his daughter.

In truth, the inn was not large. It was merely an ordinary family that had built their house somewhat bigger.

Perhaps the family had spent decades building up this "business," passing it down from their fathers.

Then military disaster had struck, destroying the efforts of two or three generations.

"Red."

Jon checked his red Swordsmanship trait again.

It shone as brilliantly as a ruby.

After Swordsmanship had turned red, the improvement to his physical abilities went without saying. More indescribable still was his insight into swordsmanship and weapons.

His weapons would no longer be limited to swords. Anything could serve.

In any case, it would only reveal itself in actual combat.

It seemed that a red trait was the highest grade, which saved Jon an upgrade point.

Once he had confirmed that there were no problems, Jon shouted in a low voice.

"Move!!"

More than twenty men bent low and swiftly closed in on the soldier thugs.

At that moment, the soldier who had declared that he would marry the innkeeper's daughter grew even more brazen, reaching past the innkeeper to grope her.

Like a hen shielding her chick beneath an eagle's talons, the innkeeper desperately tried to hide his daughter behind him.

"Hey, don't hide. Don't you want money anymore?"

"You filthy bitch, what do you mean by that?! I'm telling you, we're not leaving today. Everyone, come inside with me!"

"Go! Go!"

The group began crowding toward the inn.

Then, because of his angle, the innkeeper suddenly saw a group of young men rushing over with patterned short sticks in their hands.

Before he could understand what was happening, the leader—a youth no more than sixteen—began swinging his stick.

He was like a whirlwind, while those arrogant soldier thugs were like dead leaves swept up by a gale.

The black short staff whistled through the air, sending someone flying with every swing.

The yelling soldier thugs sensed that something was wrong, but the moment one turned around, a black shadow struck him across the face, sending saliva and teeth flying.

Theon, standing behind Jon, was left dumbfounded.

Jon's movements were simply too fast. He did not merely run quickly—his hands moved even faster!

There were only around ten soldier thugs, yet Jon had practically knocked down seven or eight of them by himself.

By the time the other twenty-odd men reached them, they could only go after those who had already fallen but were still struggling.

"Seven gods, what exactly did he learn at the Wall?"

Theon suddenly became very curious about the Wall, though his hands did not stop moving.

There was no denying that the intimate contact between sticks and flesh filled him with a strange pleasure.

The innkeeper and his daughter froze when they saw the scene.

They wondered what lord's troops these were. How could they be so fierce?

At the same time, they were afraid. What if these men also intended to eat and stay here without paying?

Especially that young leader—he had not even seen his movements clearly before people were already sprawled across the ground.

Jon knocked the loudly shouting leader to the ground, but unexpectedly, the man snarled in anger instead.

"Who is it?! Who are you?! My father is Baron Shuta."

"I'm beating Baron Shuta right now!" Jon did not stop speaking or swinging. The black staff spun in a full arc, striking the man's body again and again with heavy thuds.

"Ow! Ow! Stop hitting me!"

"Baron Shuta! Baron Shuta! Ser, I'm a Northerner!"

"Now you remember you're a Northerner? Aren't they Northerners? Do they deserve to be bullied by you?!"

Hearing Jon's furious rebuke, the innkeeper stared in disbelief.

What was going on?

Someone was actually standing up for a commoner like him?

After another twenty-odd blows, the soldier thugs' screams made people dozens of meters away shudder.

Jon turned to the innkeeper and said, "My name is Jon. If you ever encounter people eating and drinking without paying again, go straight to Winterfell and find me."

Afterward, Jon and the others tied the soldier thugs, beaten senseless, to the horses' tails and paraded them through the streets.

Sitting atop his horse, Jon called out to the other soldiers wandering around the town.

"Anyone who dares steal from commoners, or eat and drink their things without paying, will end up like this!"

Seeing Jon's ferocious appearance, those who had grown used to bullying commoners as they pleased felt as though a basin of cold water had been poured over their heads.

But that noble who claimed his father was Baron Shuta was carried before Robb by his father that very night.

Naturally, Jon had to appear as well.