The morning sun after the battle was exceptionally bright. An orange sun rose from the east, flowers swayed in the breeze, and the smell of blood in the air had largely dissipated.
[Sword Saint]: Red
[Archery]: Purple
[Riding]: Blue
[God's Eye View]: Purple
[Skinchanger]: Green
[The Unburnt]: White
[Great Strength]: White
Remaining Upgrade Points: 1
While the soldiers were cleaning the battlefield and collecting bodies, Jon felt a change in his "System."
After killing The Mountain, he had gained another white perk—[Great Strength].
Upon acquiring this perk, Jon felt his strength increase significantly. This indirectly boosted his personal combat prowess once again.
However, Jon now positioned himself as a commander, so the importance of personal combat power would diminish greatly.
What he cared about most right now was the captured heavy armor! This would be his capital for dominating the battlefield in the future.
Pulling his attention away, he saw Martyn walking toward him, accompanied by Old York.
The former was cautious, while the latter's eyes shone with excitement.
"My Lord, you must see those treasures! The heavy armored unit The Mountain brought—a single set of that heavy armor is worth more than these old bones of mine!"
"Let's go! Take a look!"
Jon merely glanced at Martyn before heading to the roadside with Old York to inspect the spoils.
Grey armor, some bloodstained, some pristine, was neatly stacked by the road. A rough estimate put the number at over three hundred sets, and soldiers were still carting more over with wheelbarrows.
Hakon and some other tribal warriors were also there, eyeing the precious heavy armor with red eyes.
Hakon hugged a suit of armor, refusing to let go. Wearing this heavy armor would make anyone a warrior worth ten men.
"My Lord, look at this breastplate, this craftsmanship!" Old York tapped a breastplate with his sword, producing a crisp metallic ring. "This is at least three times thicker than ordinary armor!"
Old York was experienced; he knew that ordinary armor would sound dull and thudding when struck, not crisp like this.
The Westerlands were rich in mineral deposits, and naturally, their metallurgy was second to none in Westeros.
"Very good. Collect all this heavy armor. I will distribute it later."
"Yes, my Lord!" Old York answered cheerfully.
Jon walked back, pondering how to form a heavy armored unit, while Martyn finally found an opening to speak to him. He stepped forward and said, "Jon... Lord Jon."
His face was filled with awe and shame. He wanted to approach Jon to show goodwill but didn't dare get too close.
Jon didn't say anything, just calmly replied, "Follow me."
Martyn didn't know what Jon intended but followed him. They arrived at the collected bodies. Most were mountain clan veterans who had sacrificed themselves to lure The Mountain into the trap.
There were also many corpses of commoners found beneath the walls of Darry.
"What did I say when you insisted on retaking Darry?"
Martyn naturally remembered Jon's words clearly, but his mouth opened and closed without a sound coming out.
Jon picked up his riding crop, striking Martyn once for every word he spoke. "They! All! Died! Because! Of! You!"
Although the riding crop hitting his breastplate caused no physical pain, Martyn was overcome with shame.
Especially with so many soldiers watching.
"I want you to collect their bodies and bury them properly."
"My Lord, I accept." Martyn lowered his head, answering in a hoarse voice.
Meanwhile, inside Darry, Lyman learned that Jon had saved them all and immediately ordered the Great Hall decorated.
Near dusk, Jon held a cremation ceremony at Darry for the fallen soldiers and murdered commoners, collecting their ashes afterward.
As for the Westerlands soldiers, apart from The Mountain's corpse which needed to be brought back as proof of military merit, the others were thrown into a pit, burned together, and buried.
In Darry, Jon sat to Lyman's left, listening to Old York report the battle results.
"My Lord, we captured over three hundred and twenty prisoners, killed four hundred and seventy, lost one hundred and seventy of our own, with serious injuries..."
Jon had led them to wipe out the elite heavy armored unit of the Westerlands with such low casualties on their side. It was a victory worth celebrating, but Jon's public reprimand of Martyn during the day kept them from laughing too loudly.
"My Lord, we captured four hundred and sixty-eight complete sets of heavy armor, plus dozens more that can be used after some repairs. soon, we will have a heavy armored unit too."
Old York said this not only to Jon but also to the others. After all, everyone had struggled hard against this heavy armored unit; knowing they would possess such powerful combat strength in the future was worth celebrating.
Jon nodded and turned to Lyman beside him. "Lord Lyman, are you interested in joining us? I see the soldiers of Darry are well-trained. Join my army, and I will arrange officer positions for them."
"No..." Lyman was about to say no problem, but remembering that Martyn always made the decisions, he subconsciously looked at him.
Martyn, having personally witnessed the terrible consequences of his mistake while collecting the bodies, was filled with guilt.
If Munda hadn't nudged him, he wouldn't have reacted. "Lord Jon, no problem. It is Darry's honor." Martyn stood up, looking at Jon's feet as he spoke.
Jon nodded and continued looking at him. "Now that we have this batch of heavy armor, I want to form an elite heavy armored unit as our reserve force. Do you have any suggestions?"
Seeing Jon ask for his advice, Martyn straightened his back. "My Lord, I believe we must select loyal and strong soldiers to fully utilize the power of this heavy armor."
"Since House Darry's troops will be integrated with mine, how about you take charge of this? You will command this elite unit as their commander and captain. What do you say?"
"It is my honor, my Lord... What?!" Martyn jerked his head up to look at Jon, thinking he had misheard.
He had accepted the first half but was caught off guard by the second. He thought Jon would hate him for his rashness, yet Jon appointed him as his captain of the guard.
The most elite unit in an army was the commander's personal guard. Although a bastard technically couldn't have a personal guard, Martyn saw no difference.
If it weren't a breach of etiquette, he would have knelt before Jon right then and there.
"Rest assured, my Lord. I will train this elite unit well for you!"
Beside them, Old York stroked his beard, smiling at the scene.
He had thought following this bastard would yield no glory.
But so far, he had dug river dikes, recruited mountain clans with Jon, and now annihilated the elite Westerlands army.
These achievements were enough to elevate him from a knight to a baron, and doubling his fiefdom wouldn't be difficult either.
Even Tommen would surely do just as well.
Conversely, without Jon, he would likely have died at the Green Fork or rotted in a prisoner cage.
He looked at Lyman and saw the little earl looking at Jon with sheer adoration, even more so than the Greatjon looked at Robb. Now Jon had won over a guard captain with just a few words.
Old York concluded that after this war, Jon getting an earldom was definitely not out of the question.
Take the Karstarks; they were a cadet branch of the Starks. Historically, there was also a "Greystark" branch.
Perhaps Jon would become the founder of House "Whitestark" in the future.
Considering Darry still had plenty of grain and Tywin had just lost his elite heavy troops and wouldn't dare act rashly, they decided to reorganize the army here before returning to camp.
That evening, they held a simple banquet to celebrate.