Chapter 171: Post-War Arrangements, Troops at the Eyrie
The Vale, Featherfall River, Griffin Lake
"Ah... don't kill me..."
In the dim light of dawn, a plea filled with despair pierced the silence of the battlefield.
It was a defeated knight of the Vale; from the sigil on his chest, it was clear he was a knight from House Lynderly of Snakewood.
Facing the terror of death, he couldn't help but cry out for his life. However, his pleas failed to move the enemy before him.
Standing before him was a burly, cold-faced Northern warrior, holding a heavy greataxe in his hands—a weapon favored by many Northmen, serving as a symbol of harsh cold and ruthlessness.
At the moment the attack fell, time seemed to freeze. The knight's eyes were filled with a longing for life, while the Northern warrior's gaze was unwavering, like a layer of hard ice in winter.
"Squelch..."
"Thud..."
With the dull sound of an axe blade cutting through flesh, the head of the Snakewood knight was ruthlessly severed, blood staining the approaching morning.
On the horizon, the first rays of sunlight broke through the heavy clouds, weakly illuminating the battlefield.
The Northern army led by Robb Stark had finally achieved victory after a night of fierce fighting. They had completely overrun the main camp of the Vale coalition. This victory marked another testament to the North's power on this continent.
On the battlefield, scattered weapons and shredded tents bore witness to the night's brutality. Though the Northern soldiers were exhausted, the joy and pride of victory could be seen in their eyes.
Among them stood Robb Stark, his gaze firm and far-reaching, as if he could already see a more distant future.
"Lord Robb! What should be done with these remaining prisoners?"
The calm-faced Roose Bolton asked Robb after seeing the surrendering knights of the Vale.
Although Eddard Stark already knew of certain things Roose Bolton might do in the future, before those things happened, this man was a very useful blade. Despite his personal dislike, Eddard had still sent him and his son south with the army.
After all, this father-and-son duo were capable commanders. When Eddard sent them south with Robb, he specifically wrote a letter to Jon.
In the letter, Eddard clearly told Jon that he could use the Boltons as he pleased; if they truly showed any signs of disloyalty, Jon could kill them directly.
Since arriving in the Vale, Jon hadn't changed much. Instead, he had bundled all the Northern soldiers together and handed them over to his cousin Robb to command.
"What suggestions does Lord Bolton have?"
Hearing Roose Bolton's question, Robb asked back with some interest.
This was because Jon had once told Robb that he could learn much about marching and warfare from Roose Bolton.
"We have roughly three thousand prisoners. I believe we can pick out the die-hards and send their heads to their castles. This will crush their morale and facilitate Lord Aegon's future rule over the Vale."
This style of handling things was very Bolton—relying on psychological pressure and fear.
"Aegon wants to rule, not threaten. Killing these men does no good for his reign!"
Robb did not quite agree with Roose Bolton's proposal, as it seemed dishonorable to him.
"These men only dared to oppose our army because they still held onto false hope. As you saw, the reason they stationed themselves here was because they feared our Drakons. Just look at the scorpions in the camp!"
After hearing the words of the young Wolf, Roose Bolton had already labeled him as a "little Eddard."
"If you hadn't launched the surprise attack in advance, our following troops would likely have suffered very heavy losses. Let these men know fear, and they will surrender faster!"
Although Roose Bolton was initially surprised when Eddard Stark suddenly declared fealty to House Targaryen, once he learned of Jon's actions and arrangements, he was filled with excitement about the North joining the Targaryen war machine.
Roose Bolton knew very well that as long as he performed well on the battlefield, there would surely be a seat for him on the new Small Council. This Targaryen with Northern blood could only rely on the North, and the North had been the first to support him.
When Roose Bolton saw Jon's Drakons in Gulltown, his confidence grew. At this moment, his considerations were entirely from the perspective of helping Jon rule.
"We are willing to surrender! We are willing to pledge fealty to Lord Aegon!"
Hearing Roose Bolton's suggestion, Ser Eylert Royce somehow found the courage to shout loudly.
"Shut up!"
A warrior of House Bolton, seeing this prisoner still trying to speak, cursed at him and immediately threw a heavy punch into his stomach.
Seeing the miserable state of their companion, the other Vale nobles who had wanted to beg for mercy immediately shut their mouths.
"Forget it. For now, keep them under guard. As usual, contact their families to come and ransom them!"
Robb's heart softened upon seeing the man's plight, and he quickly gave the order.
"Lord Robb is still more like those southern knights; he lacks the hardiness of us Northmen."
After silently placing another label on this young commander, Roose Bolton gestured for his men to stop.
"Proceed according to Lord Robb's arrangements!"
With Roose Bolton's command, these anxious Vale nobles finally breathed a sigh of relief.
"Lord Robb!"
Just then, a hurried shout came from afar. When everyone turned to look, they saw a knight bearing the Royce sigil running toward them.
After taking a wax-sealed letter from the man, Robb broke the seal and pulled out the parchment inside.
"Lord Robb! Does Lord Aegon have any instructions?"
Seeing the dragonwolf sigil on the wax seal in Robb's hand, Roose Bolton seemed to guess the sender of the letter.
"Aegon and the others have retaken the Bloody Gate. He wants us to assemble near the Gates of the Moon."
"That's wonderful! The Vale will soon be ours!"
The surrounding Northern nobles grew excited upon hearing Robb's words.
After Timett and his Mountain Clans warriors broke through the Bloody Gate, they had headed south to attack Ironoaks, leaving only about one thousand troops behind.
Because the Bloody Gate's design only allowed for defense from the front, these thousand-odd men were quickly defeated by the troops Littlefinger had gathered.
The Vale, the Bloody Gate
Just as Robb and the others were preparing to assemble their troops and march for the Gates of the Moon, Jon had already stationed his army near the Bloody Gate.
The Vale troops left behind here had long since been defeated by the coalition soldiers under Jon. The soldiers Jon led consisted of two parts.
One was the five thousand Mountain Clans warriors led by Timett, and the other was a coalition force composed of nobles from the Gulltown region, numbering about three thousand.
At this moment, in the main hall of the Bloody Gate, Horton Redfort of House Redfort and Edmund Waxley of House Waxley were loudly describing the dangers posed by the Mountain Clans to Jon.
The two groups in the hall stood distinctly on either side of Jon.
On the left stood Lord Timett the Burned and the clan chiefs beneath him.
Indeed, these Mountain Clans tribes that had pledged fealty to Jon had all been granted noble titles by him. After receiving noble attire, sigils, and surnames from Jon, these "savages" in the eyes of the Vale nobility had actually gained the right to stand as equals with them.
"Lord Aegon, I do not believe they are qualified to stand here. You must know that those who can truly help you rule the realm are ancient families like ours with noble bloodlines, not..."
"If we are truly speaking of bloodlines, you people who abandoned the Old Gods are the ones with impure blood. Our clans all originate from the blood of the First Men. Some tribes can trace their history back to the Dawn Age. While our ancestors were saving the world, your ancestors were still gnawing on rocks on the Fingers!"
Today, Timett appeared like a refined noble.
He did not shout and scream in rebuttal as he used to, but instead spoke these words very calmly.
The clan chiefs around him were also surprisingly quiet, each like a contemplative monk. In contrast, it was the Vale nobles who seemed to lack manners.
"Lord Horton Redfort's ancestors were the Redfort kings who once ruled the Redfort, were they not?"
Just as the atmosphere turned awkward, Jon's voice suddenly rang out.
Hearing his words, everyone's gaze gathered on him.
"In my view, someone who can truly be called noble is one who can treat everyone equally—just like my ancestor, Baelor Breakspear. He could look anyone in the eye and seek justice for the weak."
As Jon spoke, his eyes instinctively turned toward the Vale nobles.
"To me, anyone willing to pledge fealty to me and treat the people under their rule fairly can be called noble. Timett and his people already possess all the qualities a noble should have!"
Jon's words echoed in everyone's ears like a thunderclap.
The nobles from the Vale, in particular, were all flushed with shame.
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