Jon's arrival was like dumping a basin of cold water into a steadily boiling pot.
The surging enthusiasm was abruptly cut short.
Left hanging, the Greatjon grumbled discontentedly: "Stannis is a fart!" He turned to the Northern and River lords: "We just marched south and already won two victories. Does Renly calling himself King mean our victories don't exist?"
Although the Battle of the Green Fork wasn't technically a victory, it wasn't a defeat either, so the Greatjon didn't let facts get in the way of a good speech.
His words immediately drew agreement from many.
Excitement shone in Robb's green eyes, while Catelyn stared intently at Jon, praying he could persuade the lords.
Brynden the Blackfish observed quietly from the sidelines, waiting for his moment.
Jon ignored the clamoring lords and looked directly at the Greatjon, questioning him:
"Stannis isn't worthy? Would you dare say that if Lord Eddard were here? If King Robert were here, would he wish to see a fractured kingdom?!"
Considering his own prestige wasn't enough, Jon had to invoke the "big brothers" to hold the floor.
After all, Ned and Robert were the greatest common denominators for everyone present.
Hearing this, the Greatjon opened his mouth but found no words, standing there like a lost bear with his massive frame.
He muttered unwillingly:
"Jon, I think you're a good lad, but why do you have to stand in our way!"
Out of arguments, the Greatjon could only grumble on the side.
Jon didn't press him further, because someone else quickly stepped up to refute him.
Rickard Karstark, with his neatly groomed white beard, approached Jon and said:
"Northerners shouldn't meddle in Southern affairs. Lord Rickard and Brandon are lessons enough! We were forcibly stitched together by the Dragon Kings. Now that the dragons are gone, why should we continue to bow to that Iron Chair? Even the Dragon Kings are long gone."
Compared to the "emotional faction" like the Greatjon and Maege Mormont, Rickard was clearly more pragmatic.
If they became independent, taxes would go down. Robb would be King, and everyone else could be dukes or whatever. Wouldn't that be grand?
Although not every earl could become a duke, his House Karstark would certainly be elevated.
"And will the Southerners you speak of just watch the North declare independence? The Dragon Kings forged the Seven Kingdoms together with iron and blood long ago. Doesn't Robb have Riverlands blood flowing in his veins? Even I was brought back from the South by Lord Eddard, wasn't I?"
"It's different!" Rickard insisted stubbornly.
"Different? Fine! Even if it is different, our enemies are still out there, unresolved. Why create more enemies for ourselves?"
"We Northerners aren't afraid!"
"Right! We aren't afraid!"
The Greatjon and Maege started shouting again.
"We don't fear Southerners!" Rickard emphasized.
"But this means more war, more battles to fight. Do you all think you have too many sons to spare?!"
Jon's voice carried a rebuke, which stung Rickard into anger.
He knew his son Harrion had been saved by Jon on a losing battlefield.
But the pain of losing his two younger sons made him disregard that debt.
He drew his sword and pointed it at Jon, roaring:
"You little bastard! Say that again!"
The cold gleam of Rickard's sword reflected on Jon's face. Catelyn's heart jumped, but those gray eyes showed no fear.
Although she had always disliked, even detested Jon, right now their stances were aligned. She didn't want him hurt.
Robb sat up straight, ready to end the conflict at any moment.
But Jon showed no sign of backing down. He turned to face Rickard fully and said:
"Go on. Kill the man who saved your son's life. Do it!!!"
Clearly, Rickard couldn't bring himself to strike, so he just stood there, frozen.
"Jon!" Brynden interjected sharply.
He had been observing Jon and reached a conclusion.
Although Jon looked like Ned, his temperament was more like Ned's older brother, Brandon!
Eloquent, confident, and martial—he was practically Brandon reborn.
The "Blackfish" stepped between the old lord and the young bastard, separating them.
"Lord Rickard, the young man is impulsive. Don't lower yourself to his level."
Brynden soothed Rickard first, then looked at Jon:
"Jon, everyone witnessed your merit at the Green Fork, but that is no excuse for disrespecting the lords. Now, apologize to Lord Rickard."
The rational centrist, Jon thought silently.
He knew that Brynden Tully—whom Robb would later name "Warden of the Southern Marches"—was his true opponent in this debate.
Plus, the man was Robb's great-uncle. He outranked Jon in both seniority and status.
An apology wouldn't hurt.
"Lord Rickard, I was hasty. I apologize to you."
Jon bowed deeply to Rickard. Rickard turned away with a loud hmph, nearly blowing his mustache upward.
Brynden continued:
"Jon, Robb claiming the crown isn't just about independence for the North and Riverlands. In this situation, we need to unite hearts and minds. As you said, Robb is half Northern ice and half Riverlands current. But they must follow one mind to have sufficient strength. Now that both the North and Riverlands are willing to follow him, we can only defend our lands by rallying under the same crown!"
"Well said!" The Greatjon shouted, banging his sword on the floor, wondering why he couldn't come up with such good words.
Maege Mormont was no exception.
Rickard nodded slightly, looking at Jon.
The Northern and River lords nodded in agreement.
Catelyn realized a problem—compared to the lords' power, no one cared about the lives of her two daughters.
At this moment, she was like a drowning person, and Jon was the only straw to grasp.
Robb looked enlightened.
If he was driven by emotion before, now he had a theoretical foundation.
In other words, his resolve to be King was firmer.
Jon observed Robb from the corner of his eye. He knew his cousin—well, brother—was set on being King.
Otherwise, he would have stopped the debate earlier.
But it didn't matter. Jon had another plan. It was harder, but it could prevent the innocent from sliding into the abyss.
Still, Jon wanted to make one last effort. He said:
"The hearts of the people are like water, and the crown is like a boat. Water can carry the boat, but it can also capsize it. There are no eternal liege lords in this world, only eternal bannermen."
Jon was trying to subtly warn Robb: since the Riverlanders could turn against the Targaryens, they might one day turn against the King in the North.
But his words clearly stung others.
"What do you mean? Are you saying we would betray Robb?"
"Scoundrel! Don't think you're special just because you fought one battle, you bastard!"
"Riverlanders never betray!"
That last line is hilarious, Jon sneered inwardly. The fickleness of the River lords was common knowledge in the Seven Kingdoms.
Ironborn come, they follow Ironborn. Dragon Kings come, they follow Dragon Kings. Robert comes, they follow Robert.
For them, changing liege lords was like changing clothes.
A hit dog will holler; that's exactly what was happening.
Jon glanced at Robb again. Seeing he still had no reaction, not even defending him, Jon knew he was definitely going to be King.
So, under everyone's gaze, Jon walked up to Robb, drew his sword, and held it across his chest.
"Robb, I am a bastard who doesn't even know his own mother. But I grew up in the North, in Winterfell. Winterfell is my home. I will still fight for the North, for Winterfell, and for you. But I will not fight for that crown the Starks lost three hundred years ago."
With that, Jon turned to leave the hall.
The Greatjon stepped out to block him.
"Jon, don't forget! You left the Wall without permission. It was Robb who spared your life!"
"Once the war is over, I will return to the Wall. If you can't wait, then take my head now!"
Jon said coldly as he kept walking.
He had proven his value.
The Northern lords were foolish, but not foolish enough to kill him.
Moreover, Jon had clearly stated that while he disagreed with Robb being King, he was still an ally in the fight.
So they could only watch him leave the hall, his back to them at the doorway.
Robb said nothing. He only felt that the light outside the hall was very bright—blindingly so.