The sunlight bathed the battlements of Darry, illuminating both the Plowman banner of House Darry and Jon's White Wolf banner.
A boy, simultaneously timid and excited, led a dark-haired, grey-eyed young man on a tour of his castle.
Several times, he wanted to reach out and hold Jon's hand, but he pulled back just before making contact.
Ever since Jon saved Darry from The Mountain, Lyman's adoration for Jon had risen to another level. He used to think Robb, who defeated the Kingslayer, was the strongest.
But he hadn't seen Robb's strength with his own eyes, nor experienced it personally.
Jon defeating The Mountain, however, was something he witnessed firsthand through a spyglass from the battlements. The two were completely different.
Suddenly, as if remembering something, Lyman said to Jon, "Jon, let me take you somewhere. There are many interesting portraits there."
"Portraits? Whose portraits?"
"You'll see when you come with me."
Lyman acted mysterious and led Jon to a sunny corridor.
"Look!" Lyman pointed at the portraits and said, "These are all portraits of Targaryen kings! Our family has always kept them."
Jon was startled. Is this really something you should be showing me?
Just as he was about to make an excuse to leave with Lyman and pretend he hadn't seen anything, a panicked figure burst into his view.
Munda Rivers.
Looking at Jon standing in the corridor with Lyman, Munda's face lost most of its color.
Stag, Eagle, Wolf, Trout—these four were the main forces that overthrew the Targaryens! As "half a Stark," wasn't Lyman asking for trouble by showing him this?
Jon looked at the panicked Munda and understood what he was worried about.
I have to resolve this matter today.
He thought for a moment and said, "Lord Lyman wanted to show me these Targaryen portraits."
Munda swallowed hard. Of course I know that. He looked at Jon's trademark Stark grey eyes, recalled his formidable martial prowess in slaying The Mountain, and felt the muscles in his thighs stiffen like stone.
Although Jon had only spoken a simple declarative sentence, it sounded like a threat to his ears.
Jon continued, "I've admired the Young Dragon, Daeron I, since I was a child. I hope to achieve feats like his. Is there a portrait of the Young Dragon here?"
"Yes, there is, Jon!" Lyman introduced excitedly. "The Young Dragon was the son of Aegon the Dragonbane. He conquered Dorne, achieving a feat no Dragon King before him had accomplished!"
Lyman's mouth was full of praise for the Targaryens, even referring to them as "Dragon Kings." To Munda, this was practically dancing in Jon's "minefield."
So, under Munda's watchful gaze, the two began to browse the portraits of the Targaryen kings.
"These are all Targaryen kings, but Rhaegar isn't. Back then, we all thought Rhaegar would become king sooner or later. Who knew..."
Please, stop talking, Munda prayed silently as he followed behind Jon and Lyman.
Jon looked at Rhaegar's portrait. As a pureblood Targaryen, he was indeed exceptionally handsome. But thinking of the absurd things he had done, Jon shook his head.
As a married man, to court another man's fiancée and run off with her... that was hardly "kingly behavior."
Jon's prolonged pause in front of Rhaegar's portrait terrified Munda, who thought he was plotting something.
Just then, Lyman suddenly said, "Big Brother Jon, I don't know why, but I feel like you look a bit like Prince Rhaegar."
"Oh?" Jon looked at Lyman, then back at the portrait. At first glance, there wasn't much resemblance, but upon closer inspection, he did share some similarities with Rhaegar in subtle features like ears and eyebrows.
It was mainly their hair colors—one black, one silver—that made people overlook the resemblance.
Munda couldn't take it anymore and scolded in a low, pressed voice:
"Lyman!"
Jon glanced at Munda and realized he and Martyn were almost two extremes.
Martyn was reckless but had more drive; Munda was more thoughtful and cautious.
I have to find a way to alleviate his worry today. Jon turned to Lyman and said, "You called me Big Brother Jon just now. I am a bastard, and you are an Earl. This is improper etiquette."
"What does that matter?" Lyman said nonchalantly. "Martyn and the others say your achievements are outstanding and you'll become a noble sooner or later. Plus, you saved my life. I should call you Big Brother Jon."
Jon smiled and nodded. "Alright, since you call me Big Brother, I'll look out for you from now on. If you encounter any enemy you can't handle in the future, come directly to me!"
Receiving Jon's promise, Lyman nodded vigorously with joy.
At the same time, Jon gave Munda a meaningful nod.
His promise to Lyman was also a reassurance for Munda, indicating he didn't care about the portraits at all.
"They are just portraits. The Targaryens are in the past," Jon whispered as he passed Munda.
Hearing Jon say this, Munda's panicked heart finally settled.
In about half a month, Darry's food supplies were nearly exhausted.
Jon's army reorganization was also basically complete. With the addition of House Darry's forces, the command system was indeed much smoother.
The army's combat effectiveness had also jumped a level.
Now, the number of troops directly under Jon's command—his "core forces"—was slowly approaching four thousand.
This already exceeded the number of Dreadfort soldiers.
Coupled with Jon's prestige in the army, Roose Bolton, who had received the news, was on pins and needles.
When he learned that Jon had not only saved Darry from The Mountain but also annihilated The Mountain's army, he was somewhat dazed.
From the start of the war until now, every decision Jon made had been correct.
And he, despite being praised as a "seasoned commander" before the war, had to face the results. Battle reports might lie, but the battle lines wouldn't, and people's hearts wouldn't.
Roose Bolton could feel the power slipping further from his grasp.
"My Lord, perhaps we should consider attacking Harrenhal!" a Bolton retainer suggested.
"Harrenhal?"
"Yes. Now that His Grace has cut off Tywin's supply lines, Tywin will inevitably choose to move west. This leaves Harrenhal empty. Isn't this a good opportunity for us to reclaim lost territory?"
Roose Bolton thought about it and felt this might be the only way.
To regain some of his authority as the commander of the "Eastern Army," taking Harrenhal was a good choice.
With Harrenhal, his army of nearly twenty thousand would have a stronghold and base of operations to rely on.