The North's future?
They looked at the mountains of food, then at the black ocean outside the walls, which had fallen into deathly silence once more.
The future?
Wasn't their future already held in the hands of the man before them?
Greatjon Umber's Adam's apple bobbed. His throat felt so dry it might catch fire.
He wanted to say something, to express his gratitude, to give voice to his awe.
But he found that any words seemed utterly inadequate at that moment.
All he could do was drop to one knee on the cold stone with a thud.
The giant of Last Hearth, famed for his courage and defiance, laid his greatsword-taller than a man-across the ground before him and bowed his proud head.
"Lord Lynn..."
"You have allowed my people to survive this Long Night in safety."
"I, Jon Umber, offer you everything I have."
"My house, my soldiers, my life-all are yours to command, my lord."
His words brought the surrounding lords back to their senses.
Lynn now controlled the Riverlands and the Vale, and Ned intended to involve him in the North's internal affairs as well.
It was fair to say that the North was only a matter of time.
Wyman Manderly's fat body dropped to one knee with an agility that belied his size.
He was not as emotional as Greatjon, but a light called fanaticism burned in his eyes.
"White Harbor will forever be your most faithful haven, my king."
Next came Earl Hornwood, Rodrik Flint, and the representative of House Karstark...
One after another.
In Winterfell's courtyard, every vassal of the North knelt on one knee, regardless of rank or the size of his lands.
Facing the young man, they offered their humblest respect and most fervent loyalty.
They had sworn allegiance to the