"You say he opposed his brother becoming King?"
Old Walder, who had been lazily lounging by the warm fireplace, suddenly sat up as he listened to Rhaegar Frey's report.
His hand, which had been gently swirling his wine cup, sped up, his mind turning as fast as the pale liquid until the wine nearly spilled, unnoticed.
"Yes, Father. As we neared Riverrun, Jon kept urging the sailors to go faster. And when we docked, he didn't even say goodbye—he went straight for the Great Hall. It was as if he knew beforehand that the Northerners were going to crown Robb," Rhaegar recalled.
"Knew beforehand?" Old Walder set his cup on the table and chuckled. "Impossible. He's no prophet to have such ability. He probably just wanted to find out more about Ned's situation."
Old Walder offered his guess, and Rhaegar feigned sudden enlightenment, agreeing that this explanation was more reasonable.
But there was still something Old Walder didn't quite understand.
In his two encounters with Jon, the boy had given him a "slippery" impression.
Despite Jon's initial self-deprecation and his subsequent grandiose promises to climb mountains of blades for Walder, the old lord could sense that Jon didn't want to get too entangled with him.
In his view, if Jon wanted to dissuade Robb, he should have used other means—at least nothing so drastic.
It was very un-"Jon."
But regardless of what Jon was up to, Old Walder felt his investment in the boy was a bit of a loss.
Publicly stopping Robb from becoming King wouldn't necessarily stop Jon from becoming a noble with lands, but he would likely be granted some "frontier territory," far from the center of power.
But it didn't matter.
Robb becoming King made up for it.
He had only intended to take the opportunity to marry into House Stark.
He hadn't expected to earn a crown for House Frey in the process.
In the future, House Frey's status wouldn't be lower than House Tully's.
Worth it!
Let's see who dares call House Frey upstarts now.
Thinking of this, Old Walder relaxed, and his cloudy old eyes began to crawl over the serving girl beside him.
Rhaegar Frey noticed his father's small movements.
Knowing his father was in a good mood, he brought up another matter.
"Father, when Jon and I left the Twins that day, Roslin seemed to have some... feelings for him."
"Roslin is my prettiest daughter. She belongs to Robb."
Old Walder's words fell like a judge's gavel, sealing his daughter's fate.
"I raised her to get a return on my investment, otherwise what use is she? As for what feelings she has for Jon, I don't know, and I don't care."
"Yes... Father." Rhaegar bowed his head submissively.
---
Meanwhile, in Roslin's room.
Lady Roslin, this is my raven. I am heading to the Mountains of the Moon to recruit clan warriors for Robb.
When the war is over, perhaps we will meet at the victory feast.
Forgive the abruptness of our last parting.
Jon Snow of Winterfell.
At Roslin's window, a black raven over a foot tall was waiting.
It occasionally tucked its head under its wing to scratch an itch.
Its black feathers reflected an iridescent sheen in the sunlight.
Clearly, Jon took good care of it.
As Old Walder's daughter, she naturally knew the purpose of ravens.
But she had never seen one as smart as this, actually finding her room!
Thinking quickly, she secretly grabbed some nuts and dried meat for it.
Of course, she did this all in secret.
She knew Old Walder; he absolutely forbade his children from doing anything against his will.
After feeding the raven, Roslin thought she should write something back to Jon.
But staring at the open letter paper, she couldn't think of how to reply, even as the ink on her quill pooled and dripped.
Roslin's memory drifted back to that day when Jon sang to her a cappella.
She blushed again.
She looked at the raven and noticed it was staring intently at her letter paper.
While Roslin was distracted, the raven used its finger-long black beak to peck half a hazelnut out of her sleeve.
Phew—I thought you could read for a second.
Roslin thought to herself. Finally, she made up her mind.
A line of elegant handwriting appeared on the paper—
May your blade always reflect the bright moon, not the gleam of blood.
I will pray for you before the gods.
If the bells of celebration ring,
Please save the first dance for the girl wearing lilies of the valley on her chest.
Roslin Frey of the Twins.
Lilies of the valley signify—happiness returns.
After writing it, Roslin blushed furiously.
She crossed out the sentence "If the bells of celebration ring, please save the first dance for the girl wearing lilies of the valley on her chest," rewrote the other sentences, and carefully placed the message into the bronze tube.
---
On horseback, Jon slowly opened his eyes. He already knew the content of the letter before the raven delivered it.
So he just found a place to destroy it and let the raven return on its own.
Although at this stage Jon only hoped to gain some intel on the Twins through Roslin...
Just in case Old Walder still decided to go through with the Red Wedding, Jon could prepare in advance.
But truthfully, Roslin was a nice girl.
She would make a pretty good wife.
If I can get a fief in the future...
Jon shook his head, temporarily banishing these stray thoughts.
He gathered himself. The Northern camp was just ahead.
If he was going to the Mountains of the Moon, Howland Reed would be a good helper.
Jon planned to see if he could bring him along.
But as soon as he arrived at camp, Jon received bad news from Old York—
Howland Reed had been sent to the Neck to guard the gateway to the North.
"My Lord, this was all Roose Bolton's idea. Lord Reed followed Lord Eddard since Robert's Rebellion; his prestige is high. Everyone can see he supports you—at least that he's on your side. Roose Bolton didn't want his authority threatened further, so he sent him to garrison the Neck."
"When did Lord Reed leave?"
"Not long after you left," Old York said indignantly.
Hearing this, Jon's face darkened.
If he was going to attack King's Landing in the future, he absolutely could not leave his back to this guy!
Even if it meant staging a mutiny, he had to put Roose Bolton under house arrest to feel safe.
Otherwise, the man was a ticking time bomb.
In the original timeline, when Tywin retreated from the Red Fork to save King's Landing, he passed right by Harrenhal. Roose Bolton pretended not to see him, staying as still as a corpse.
Although Jon didn't know exactly when Roose started planning to fence-sit, he wouldn't hold any illusions just because Roose hadn't betrayed them before the Battle of the Blackwater.
Back in camp, Jon met with the other Northern lords.
It seemed they didn't know about Jon stopping Robb's coronation at Riverrun yet.
Medger Cerwyn and Harrion Karstark, in particular, remained warm toward Jon.
"What's the use of recruiting those wildlings? Those guys have zero loyalty, and their fighting skills are mediocre at best. Jon, I advise you not to waste your effort."
Hearing Jon was going to a place like the Mountains of the Moon, Harrion expressed his confusion.
After all, the wildlings in the mountains had different faiths and maybe even different languages.
Forcing them together would likely just result in infighting.
"If you want to go, go, Jon. I don't think there will be any fighting here for a while. But be careful." Medger Cerwyn, being older, saw that Jon was determined, so he simply advised caution like an elder.
Though privately, he didn't think it would work.
Sure, Jon had managed to unite the stragglers from Winterfell and various lords before.
But the wildlings of the Mountains of the Moon? With all due respect, that was a much harder task.
"Thank you for your concern, Lord Cerwyn. I leave the logistics to you."
After entrusting logistics to Medger Cerwyn again, Jon prepared to depart for the Mountains of the Moon.
Accumulating more power now wasn't just preparation for attacking King's Landing; it was also a deterrent against Roose Bolton.
The Battle of the Blackwater would determine the entire course of the War of the Five Kings. Jon wouldn't miss any opportunity to build his strength.