Kal El adjusted the gloves he had just put on, each finger wrapped perfectly in soft deerskin.
He clapped his hands, shifted the gilded sword at his waist to the side, and then took Fawkes's reins from the hands of his new squire, Samwell Tarly.
Lifting his long leg, he swung himself onto the horse.
Only after he sat firmly did Kal turn his head, looking toward the host behind him that belonged to him alone.
This was a resplendent river formed by the meeting of steel's silver, blood's red, and velvet-like black, a force that truly belonged to him, Kal.
"Master, are we departing now?"
Kossi, who had been bustling about at the side, noticed that Kal had already mounted and hurried over to ask.
Kal's host had in fact assembled outside the Lion Gate since before dawn.
Five thousand men and horses, along with grain, fodder, and all sorts of supplies that needed transport, filled wagon after wagon.
And among these forces, aside from the more than two thousand sworn wildling warriors of his own High Mountain clans, the rest were all recruits Kal had drawn from the defeated Westlander army.
By offering exemption from restitution and punishment to any who joined his army, he had spent half a month selecting these three thousand.
It was not that he was unwilling to take more.
On one hand, many eyes were fixed upon these ready-made soldiers; on the other, he had to consider whether his stores and resources could meet the eating, drinking, and daily needs of such a host.
And most importantly, he needed a group with higher loyalty and stronger recognition of him.
Besides, as Warden of the West, taking in some smallfolk levies who were originally Westlanders was something no one dared to object to.
Looking at the host that belonged to him alone, Kal felt his heart surge with excitement.
And upon hearing Kossi's inquiry, Kal nodded.
"Since everything is ready, then prepare to depart. Who knows when we will return next."
Kal gave the order for the host to set out in a calm tone, then raised his head and cast a deep glance at the Lion Gate before him.
Heaven was uncooperative; today was not a clear day.
In the gray, hazy sky, fine rain drifted down.
Since around a month ago, when the martial tournament ended, the rains in King's Landing had grown heavier than usual.
However, this kind of rain was not without its benefits; at the very least, when marching on the road, it would be comfortable and pleasant weather, not so scorching hot.
Receiving Kal's order, Kossi nodded solemnly, then turned and jogged off, passing the order along while also finding the supply convoy he needed to manage.
Next, his task would be heavy, for once the host set out, he would have to ensure that the supply convoy followed the army without falling behind.
And after making camp, he also needed to immediately prepare the logistics for the host.
Thus the difficulty and pressure could not be said to be small.
Fortunately, those newly recruited Westlander soldiers were excellent labor; there was no reason not to make full use of them.
On the other side, Jon, who was bidding farewell to his family, hurriedly put away the faint sadness in his mood upon hearing the order for the host to set out.
"I am about to leave. I will come to King's Landing to see you again next time."
Looking at "Father" Eddard Stark before him, Jon wore a forced smile.
Since learning his true identity, he had gone through a period of weighing things and had ultimately chosen to put down everything that originally had nothing to do with him, deciding to begin his life anew.
Just as he now changed his Snow surname to Whitewolf.
This was also why he did not choose to return to the North but decided to continue following Kal.
Jon named his family Whitewolf as well, an inspiration from his white direwolf, Ghost.
Thus his formal name also changed from Jon Snow to Jon Whitewolf.
And even the Whitewolf family sigil was designed by Jon as a silver-white, crouching direwolf on a gray-black snowfield.
It was roughly similar to the sigil of House Stark, except the two faced opposite directions, and the figure lay curled with its tail on the snow, lifting its head, its pair of blood-red eyes seeming to gaze upward in vigilance at something.
After learning of his idea, Kal had smiled and said that the gray-black snowfield on his sigil looked more like volcanic ash than snow.
But Jon argued that there would be no direwolves on a volcano.
To this Kal only smiled, spread both hands, and said, "What should be on a volcano are dragons."
Jon then fell silent, yet he did not change his family sigil.
Seeing that Kal's host was about to set out, Eddard could only keep it brief.
"Jon, follow Lord Kal El well. He is a very capable man, and by following him you will learn much."
"When you come back to King's Landing in two years, when you are a little older, I will find a suitable girl for you. Of course, if you meet someone you love—just like Oberyn's bastard daughters, that is not impossible either. As long as you like her, and the two of you truly love each other."
Faced with Jon's farewell, Eddard Stark looked at the child he had kept by his side since the day he was born, yet who had grown from a boy into a man in only half a year after leaving him. Eddard Stark's eyes were full of complexity.
Even his tone at this moment carried deep emotion.
Then, perhaps disliking this kind of atmosphere, he did not wait for Jon to reply before hastily and awkwardly changing the subject, shifting to ask after Jon's future affairs.
Hearing this, Arya—who had been crying with tears streaming down her face, reluctant for her brother to leave—could not help but purse her lips, her tears forgotten.
Before Jon could answer with some embarrassment, Arya suddenly jumped in front of him, lifted her head, and shouted loudly, "I don't like those women! You should marry someone who loves you, a woman like Mother!"
"When the time comes, I will come to your castle to attend your wedding!"
Seeing the girl say this, Eddard Stark—who had still felt a touch of sadness earlier—placed a firm hand on her shoulder and pushed her aside.
"All right, do not delay your brother. In a year or two, he will come to King's Landing to see you."
Faced with her father's forcefulness, Arya, her face already streaked with tears, had no choice but to shrink back and lift her sleeve to wipe her face.
She actually did not want to cry, but she simply could not control it.
Watching the mischievous Arya being subdued, Jon, who had been feeling sad, could not help but smile.
"Then I will go prepare. Farewell, Father, Arya, Sansa, Bran, Rickon, and Ca—Aunt Catelyn."
Aside from hesitating a little when calling Catelyn Stark, Jon had finished saying farewell to everyone who had come to see him off.
Bran and the others, sensible as they were, hurried to say they would miss him, and Catelyn was not as sharp-tongued as usual at this moment.
Seeing this, Eddard also stepped forward to embrace Jon, smiling as he said, "Go on. I still have to say farewell to Kal and explain to him why the King did not come."
Seeing that everything was more or less done, Jon no longer lingered. He rubbed the head of Ghost, who had followed him here, then turned and left.
He knew this was not some farewell after which they would never see each other again.
But Jon understood clearly that after leaving this time, he and House Stark would no longer be the inseparably close family they once were.
Watching Jon's back as he turned to leave, Eddard Stark could not help but let out a sigh.
Then he turned to look at Sansa, who was supposedly saying farewell to Jon but whose gaze had in fact been fixed the whole time on the tall, imposing figure not far away.
"Come, Sansa, go and say farewell to your betrothed. The next time you meet will be when he formally takes you as his wife. The two of you will have a long future together."
After calling Sansa, Eddard said no more and turned to walk toward Kal.
As for Sansa Stark, whose heart held nothing but sorrow at not seeing Kal for quite a long time to come—upon hearing her father's teasing, her pretty face instantly flushed red.
But shy as she was, her actions were not slow.
She quickly lifted her skirt and followed behind her father.
Kal, who had still been mounted on his warhorse thinking about where the host should make camp halfway through the march, now noticed the arrival of his future father-in-law and fiancée.
At once he remembered that he had not taken the initiative to go and say farewell, and instead had made the Lord himself bring his daughter over.
Having no time to maintain his dashing pose, Kal, who had just mounted Fawkes, hastily swung himself down from the horse's back.
He then immediately revealed a smile that was just right yet not without awkwardness and hurried to find an excuse.
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