"Talon, is there anything else you've obtained?"
"No, nothing else, my lord." Talon bowed respectfully to Jon, but his eyes had shifted slightly to the right, where three people knelt with their hands and feet bound.
The three were part of the people called wildlings, those who lived beyond the Wall. Jon had already had to deal with several skirmishes or infiltrations that reached the New Don. Talon was one of the men who worked in a prison they had built; it wasn't very large, but necessary for cases like this, and also for extracting information from enemies.
Jon nodded and took a step forward.
"Do you have any final words?"
"It doesn't matter what we say, in the end you're not like us, boy," the middle wildling said, almost growling.
"Perhaps..." Jon said before drawing his sword and executing a swift cut. His sword seemed a blur before it moved toward the necks of the other two. The blood didn't stain his blade, and the heads fell almost simultaneously, blood spilling onto the ground like three small waterfalls, with several people watching from behind, some even cheering.
"Thank you for your work, Talon."
"There's no need to thank me, my lord. I do as I'm told." Talon only smiled slightly before bowing his head a little and beginning to give orders to the men he was guarding behind the decapitated bodies. They were to burn the corpses and clean up the blood.
Jon walked back toward one of the castle towers, which only seemed larger than it had been a few years ago. Since he returned from King's Landing, the city of Aeternum had only continued to grow, not at a great pace, but people seemed to arrive regularly around the new landowner. Jon knew these people must be the ones who, in wintertime, took refuge in Winter Town or any other town near the fortresses and castles of the northern lords.
It was more work, but Jon believed it was what he needed to do, so he didn't shy away from his role. The good thing was that, during his trip to see the King a few years ago, he had managed to find someone with great potential.
She was a girl who, when he first met her, seemed younger than him. Only after having her cared for and working with her for a few months did he realize she was older than him. The filth that had covered her body and her malnourished state had taken their toll.
Now she was much better, which was wonderful.
Jon trained her in everything he knew about battle, as well as in research and procedures for handling reports and paperwork. Eventually, she had become his personal aide, almost like Maester Luwin had been to his father.
When he arrived, he saw the girl standing in front of the door. She was dressed in a maid uniform that Rias had given her. Her hair was long and slightly wavy, reaching nearly to her shoulders, and a light brown color. Her eyes were blue, and she wore a serious expression.
"Thank you for standing guard, Eira."
"It's my duty, my lord," Eira bowed respectfully before rising and opening the door for Jon, causing him to wince slightly. Eira had become extremely serious about her work, to the point where she wouldn't even let Jon do small things.
If she could open the door, she would. And if Jon did, she would say it wasn't necessary, that she could do it herself.
With a slight sigh, Jon stepped inside, drawing his sword from its scabbard. Then he sat down and began to carefully clean it with a cloth. It wasn't dirty; his sword training had made it truly excellent. His battle training had made it swift and precise. All the training he'd done meant his movements didn't leave blood on his blade... but he still did this.
He'd seen his father do it, so he imitated him at first, but then it became almost a routine and also something that relaxed him a little.
Unfortunately, after a few minutes, he couldn't help but think that this Valyrian steel sword was just junk among all the swords in the group's tent. Jon could only sigh at that fact.
He hadn't had too many missions, and all the ones he'd had were related to improving his swordsmanship or fighting style. The others were about managing the territory he was guardian of.
Although he'd grown quite a bit taller since the last time, which ended up surprising Jon a little. It seemed that all the training hadn't just made him excellent with a sword, it had also improved his physique.
"My lord," Jon raised his head at the sound of Eira's voice.
"Come in."
The door opened, and Eira entered before closing it behind her and lowering her head to show him a letter.
"A raven arrived with a letter from Winterfell, my lord."
"Mm, thank you for bringing me the letter, Eira," Jon nodded before Eira walked to the desk and handed the letter to him.
She said goodbye as Jon opened the letter and frowned slightly as he read. The letter was not good news; it was actually news from the south that his father had received and then written to Jon.
Jon Arryn was dead, and the King was heading north, specifically to Winterfell.
That wasn't good, at least that's what Jon thought. If his assumptions were correct, then the King wanted his father to take Jon Arryn's position. Jon could only shake his head, knowing that this could be very bad for his father.
Eddard Stark was a straightforward and hardworking man. And while the latter was fine, being direct in the South wasn't. The ways in the South were different than in the North; the King was surrounded by greedy rats and venomous snakes; the city was teeming with spies, and the current conditions were far from ideal.
Jon closed his eyes, imagining his father being swallowed up by this damned, senseless game. And the worst part was, he knew his father and knew he would accept the King's offer. Perhaps he would refuse at first, but the King's persistence was not something to be underestimated.
"Damn it all, looks like I'll need to spend some chat points on protection," Jon grumbled before grabbing his phone and starting to look for some things he might need for whatever might or might not be coming up soon.
"I suppose I'll also have to return to Winterfell. Father might have some trouble dealing with the King's demands," Jon pinched the bridge of his nose as a headache began to throb.
"Eira!" Jon called to his loyal attendant.
The door opened once more as Eira entered.
"Do you need anything, my lord?"
"I'll be leaving shortly. I have to go to Winterfell," Jon said seriously. "I need you to stay here to manage things. You know what to do."
"Understood. I'll do my best, my lord."
"I know, that's why I'm asking this," Jon nodded with a small smile.
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