"Jon won! Jon won! That's great—"
As Greatjon announced the results of the competition first, Bran was already ecstatic.
This was the first time he had been so happy since his leg was broken.
After Jon choked out the swordsman he was fighting, he walked straight towards Ramsay.
Roose Bolton was starting to lose his patience.
He was already over forty; it was hard to say if he could have another child.
Ramsay was his only heir, even his only family!
At this moment, he finally realized where he had gone wrong.
He had set a trap, but instead of a Stark Direwolf, a Targaryen Dragon had arrived.
Not only did the trap fail to harm it, but it also enraged it.
"My Lord..."
Before Roose Bolton could say anything, Robb stood up first, and he angrily shouted at Jon:
"Jon, stop!"
At his command, the surrounding guards rushed forward to block Jon.
"Jon! You said you came back to rescue Father, is this how you rescue him?" Robb then turned to the others and roared, "You are my father's bannermen. I summoned you here to fulfill your duties,
not to bring me gifts to bribe me, or to spend all day thinking about how to marry your daughters to me!"
Although Robb did not specify who these people were, the lords who were alluded to felt ashamed.
This was Jon's plan.
"My father was framed by a false king and villains. Now, I, Robb Stark, your liege's son and heir, interfere with my liege's decisions, attempting to meddle in his wedding feast. Tell me, what crime is this?!"
As Robb roared, his Direwolf, Grey Wind, suddenly leaped out.
Its green wolf eyes stared at everyone.
Hardly anyone present had ever seen a wolf so large; it could bite an adult's neck with just a raise of its head.
Robb then looked towards Jon and Ramsay.
Under Jon's intimidation, Ramsay could barely stand. If not for the person behind him supporting him, he would have likely fallen to the ground.
"Ramsay, you know Jon is my brother. Even though he is only my father's bastard, he is still my family. What crime is it to insult your liege's family? Hmm? Answer me!!"
Watching Robb shout and roar, Greatjon beside him almost had stars in his eyes.
The large lord whispered softly:
"Old and New Gods, this is Ned's true son!"
"Ramsay Snow, Jon Snow, I fine each of you one hundred lashes, but since the army is about to march, it will be recorded and carried out after the war. Does anyone disagree?!"
Robb looked around, and the lords big and small of the North all fell silent.
Only at this moment did Robb truly feel like the Duke of Winterfell.
Seeing that no one dared to speak, Robb finally looked at Roose Bolton with satisfaction.
"Lord Bolton."
"Lo... Lord Robb."
"You want to command the entire Northern army; that is impossible."
Roose Bolton nodded. After all, he was the one who pushed his son forward, and in a way, Robb had saved him.
"However, I can understand that you did this out of a desire to serve me better, so I will assign you an army when the time comes."
Roose Bolton looked at Robb with some disbelief, but he quickly understood what this meant.
Robb continued:
"At the same time, I will appoint Jon as your second-in-command. You will be responsible for commanding the army, and he will assist you with logistics and intelligence. Both of you are dedicated to rescuing my father, so I hope you can mend your differences and work well together on the battlefield."
Although he said to work well together, it was actually a way to control him with Jon.
Logistics and supplies are the lifeline of an army, and also its leash.
"Thank you, my Lord." Roose Bolton slowly spoke, his voice tinged with bitterness.
With Jon there, if he fought well, his credit might be shared.
If he fought poorly, he would definitely take the blame.
Robb nodded in satisfaction and then said:
"Additionally, I see you have Ramsay by your side. Do you intend to name him as your heir?"
Roose Bolton didn't know how to answer.
Because Ramsay was his only son now, and Robb had already asked in public, so whether he was or not, he now had to be.
"How about this, let's assign him to my personal guard, and he can go to the battlefield with me."
"As you command, my Lord."
With this double insurance, the Earl of Dreadfort could only obey... In Robb's study, he, Jon, Theon, Bran, and Maester Luwin sat together.
They were all very happy.
Everything had gone according to Jon's plan and achieved a perfect result.
"First conquer the weak, then conquer the strong. As for those neither strong nor weak, they will naturally be under control. Jon, where did you learn such words?" Maester Luwin asked curiously.
"Maester, I heard it from someone on the Wall. But that fellow trains monkeys for performances. He said if you train a group of monkeys simultaneously, you should first catch a chicken and kill it in front of them.
This way, most monkeys will behave. However, a few will still jump out. At this point, you only need to specifically train the fiercest monkey. Once it's tamed, the whole group of monkeys will obey." Jon, of course, would not tell the truth.
"Oh, what an interesting method." Maester Luwin nodded with a smile, looking thoughtful.
"You mean those lords are monkeys?" Theon said with a laugh.
"More or less. A lot of times, people and monkeys aren't so different," Jon replied, then asked:
"Robb, now that the army is assembled, I think we should march as soon as possible. Have you figured out how to make Old Walder let us pass?"
Robb looked down at his wine glass and said:
"I've decided. After the war is won, I will marry a Frey daughter, and in exchange for this condition, the Frey family will join our army."
Jon looked at him and saw that he seemed somewhat unwilling.
He knew in his heart that Robb wasn't very keen on it.
Firstly, the Frey daughters were not attractive.
Robb was a lookist.
Furthermore, the Frey family had only risen for six hundred years, while the Stark family had existed for eight thousand years; the former was merely a parvenu.
But there was no other way. Robb understood the principle of speed in warfare, and further delay would only lead to missed opportunities.
Jon also knew that this fellow would become more arrogant with each victory. After all, he was only sixteen years old, yet he could command a great army, winning every battle. Anyone would find it hard to maintain self-control.
And he had even become the King in the North.
He himself might also become arrogant.
"Old Walder is very greedy. Add Arya or Rickon to the deal. Two marital alliances should tempt the old man."
"Ah?" Robb didn't expect that his younger siblings would also need to 'sacrifice' for the Starks.
As the eldest brother, he felt this was his 'dereliction of duty.'
"What, do you want me to go? I don't mind, as long as what greets us isn't the Frey army, but their arrows and rolling logs."
Seeing Jon's self-deprecating remark, the others laughed, but it only lasted for a moment before their smiles faded.
Everyone knew that Jon had sacrificed a lot to help Robb establish his authority.
Robb had already asked Maester Luwin to arrange for him to have an independent unit of three to five hundred men.
After all, controlling Roose Bolton couldn't be done by words alone.
Afterward, Jon also offered some suggestions.
For example, it was crucial to explain to Old Walder that attacking the Westerlands army was an excellent opportunity.
In short, it was about painting a picture, making him realize that he wasn't fighting for Robb, but even more so for himself.
Robb suddenly spoke: "Jon, after the war, don't go back to the Wall. Stay by my side. I need you.
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