Chapter 24: Chapter Twenty-Four: Jon

By the time he met Lord Torgenhen, the campfires were already lit; in fact, they had arrived as early as when the sun was still halfway down the sky. Seeing the Lord return safely, Jon felt he was even happier than the Lady.

"Haha, what a beautiful child. If my sister were still alive, she would surely be proud of you," Lord Torgenhen greeted Lyra first.

"Old Uncle, let's not go there. If she were still alive and found out both her sons were dead, she would be heartbroken all over again," she replied, then pointed at Jon. "This is Qiongenxuenuo, son of Eddard Stark of Winterfell, now a brother of the Night's Watch at the Wall. He came here to..."

"I know. I have already given the Night's Watch too much, yet they still cannot stop the wildlings from coming south. Many women of our clan have been ravaged. Since he has come, he must give me a good explanation, otherwise, I will have Donn spank his bottom and throw him back to Castle Black," Lord Flint joked fiercely at him.

The Lord was born sturdy and robust, with short, thick limbs, and his voice carried a jagged, chisel-like harshness that unexpectedly reminded Jon of the wildling Craster.

"Lord Flint, I came not just for supplies; I came here for men and horses. Spanking my bottom won't do," Jon responded helplessly.

"What a greedy fellow!" The Lord pointed at Jon and asked Lyra, "Is this truly Eddard Stark's son?"

"Genuine and authentic."

"Forget it, Ned's descendants will always have a place here with me." He threw down his heavy fur cloak. "You came in a hurry, and we have no preparations, but as for bread, flatbread, roast venison, blood sausage, bacon, and wine, I have plenty. Even for fruits, the women have picked quite a few, though most are dried. Tonight, we shall eat and drink to our heart's content. Tomorrow, we shall talk of men or horses." His large hand patted Jon's injured shoulder, causing Jon to wince in pain.

Another explanation was required for the pain. This suited Jon's intentions perfectly; he had no mood for eating or drinking, and he absolutely refused to waste time. Perhaps the Wall did not need to wait for him, but Mance Rayder would not give him much time.

"Lord," Jon used the Winterfell form of address, "Winterfell has absolutely no power to gather the lords to campaign against Mance Rayder. Now, the only ones who can protect the North are ourselves. Lord Norrey has already sent men ahead to assist in the defense of Castle Black; perhaps it can hold for a while, but in the long run, it will ultimately fail. Lord, we must gather our forces, cross the Wall, and launch an attack against them."

"I understand," the Lord said in a rough voice. "I have already received news from Castle Black. Lord Commander Mormont is dead; he was murdered by someone at 'Craster's Keep,' and Craster was also killed by traitors."

Jon could not believe it.

"There is also some good news. Your sister went south, captured the Twins, and avenged the North for the wedding. For this, I have only gratitude. This was news from a few days ago."

Jon did not know what expression to make. The Lord should never have put the two pieces of news together.

"The right of guest-right has become cheap these days. Come, at least we are still people who respect the gods." The Lord let him enter the inner room.

"Tell me everything about the situation at the Wall and the situation with Mance Rayder. Perhaps you can take my men and horses away," the Lord said after they entered his hall. At this moment, two young men walked in from outside.

"These are my two sons. The one on the left is called Donn, and the one on the right is Athos. They are ashamed that they could not join Robb's army, but I tell you, as a father, I can only cry out in relief."

Jon nodded to them as a greeting, then introduced the situation regarding Mance Rayder and his requirements for troops.

"Qiongenxuenuo. The Flint clan might be able to scrape together five hundred cavalry, but if clans like the Harklays cannot send troops as well, I can at most give you one hundred mounted warriors, as compensation for the Young Wolf. Not having gone south with him, I feel both lucky and pained."

Things were developing far more smoothly than he had anticipated, and Jon had only gratitude. But he could not stop here.

"Lord Flint, I do not understand. You know that compared to one hundred cavalry, I hope for five hundred, and I do not have time to ask every clan for their willingness."

"Indeed, you hope, since the latter number is larger. But I must say, if I pull away too many men, I might be taken advantage of by the Harklays and others. I must protect my own clansmen, just as I protect the North, or as you say, perhaps the kingdom."

"Lord, please do everything in your power to help me," Jon said. "I can have Winterfell send ravens to the Harklays. If they dare to invade your lands or rob your clansmen while you are sending troops to the Wall, Winterfell will make them pay the price."

The Lord slammed his wine cup onto the table and said loudly, "Although I am willing to defeat Mance Rayder for you, and you brought Lyra to my territory yourself, I should not refuse, but war means people will die." He picked up the wine cup again and took a large gulp. "You also said that two thousand cavalry could defeat Mance Rayder, but that is also a guess. What if it fails? We cannot have the other clans suffer no losses while all the losses are borne by us and the Norreys, can we?"

He stood up. "Child, let me make it clear to you. Mance Rayder might invade the Wall, he might occupy most of the North, but no matter how powerful he is, he will ultimately fail, just like other Kings-Beyond-the-Wall in history. You admit this, right?" He asked Jon. Jon had some doubts but still nodded, so the Lord continued, "If you succeed in defeating them, that is of course good, but the losses will all be the Flints and Norreys. Oh, perhaps we will get back armor, weapons, and gold, and many young lads will die with honor and glory—but they will never come back. If you fail, not only will we get nothing, but the lads will not come back, and we will become the thorn in the wildlings' side, to be dealt with first. And even if the wildlings yearn for the warm South and forget to retaliate, Qiongenxuenuo, I still have to live as neighbors with the Harklays and other clans. A letter from Winterfell will be of no use. Winterfell's influence here is not power, but Ned, and Ned is already dead, child."

Everything he said was sincere, and Jon could feel it.

For a moment, he felt he could not accuse the Lord of selfishness, and he believed that if he were the Flint chieftain, he could not find a better way to handle it.

But I absolutely cannot give up. What I watch over is the Wall and the kingdom, not their clans.

Be ruthless, Jon told himself.

"Lord, gather your five hundred cavalry and wait for my return." He felt he was very shameless, as if he had already solved the problem for the Lord. "I will bring the cavalry of your neighbors with me." Winterfell had no men, but at least it had gold, if the rumors were true. "I know money cannot compensate you and your clansmen, but Winterfell, my sister, she has plenty of money. She can buy enough grain and enough clothing for you to ensure your clansmen survive this winter safely. I may not be able to bring your lads home, but I can guarantee that this winter, none of you will freeze or starve to death. Of course, if your worries come true, I swear to you in my father's name that I will have my sister permanently drive the clans that violate you out of the mountains."

He took off the sword at his waist, placed it horizontally with both hands, and pulled the blade partially from the scabbard toward the Lord sitting in the seat of honor. The smoke-gray patterns were extremely beautiful under the firelight, but this made him blush. Longclaw was a Valyrian steel sword; it should have been used to kill men or monsters, but now, it was like a display item for sale, shown to others by its owner once again.

"My father, my father's family has a Valyrian steel sword. You should know its name," he said.

"Ice."

Very good. "Ice is the ancestral sword of the Stark family. There are perhaps no more than a hundred such swords in the entire Westeros, perhaps the entire world. Its value needs no further words." He hoped the Lord would nod, but the Lord just stared at him, and he was somewhat disappointed. "This one is also a Valyrian steel sword, named 'Longclaw,' gifted to me by my sister Mei Stark when I joined the Night's Watch." The Lord looked very puzzled, so Jon had to throw out his purpose. "I mean to say, my sister gifted me this item, which either means she loves me enough, or she is wealthy enough, and I believe it is both. Therefore, as long as I have a request, she will surely agree gladly." She would scold him for being a troublemaker, but she would absolutely agree!

He held Longclaw out to him. The Lord took it suspiciously and examined it, and his two sons also stepped forward, staring at the sword. Valyrian steel swords were not only sharp and light but also possessed an inherent beauty; Jon believed they could see it.

When the Lord turned his gaze back to him, he heard himself say, "Lord, not only that, I will definitely make your neighbors understand this principle and let them know your concerns." Or your contempt for their stinginess.

"Qiongenxuenuo, you are a damn bastard," the Lord said indignantly.

"I am the bastard of Eddard Stark of Winterfell," Jon said.

The Lord could no longer hold it in and began to laugh loudly. Following him, his two sons and Lyra also stretched their lips into smiles.

Jon felt success and laughed along. If people have flaws, they can be utilized; if people have desires, they can be driven.

"Before you return to the Wall, I will tell you or your sister how much grain and how many furs I need," the Lord added.

Jon finally set his heart at ease, but this was not reliable. Seeing the Lord's two sons, he felt it best to amplify the Lord's desires. "Your clan is known as the First Flints, and the Flints have now planted their roots in every corner of the North. If my eyes do not deceive me, you have two adult sons. Perhaps after the war, you would be willing to branch out another root." Lord Flint put away his smile, stopped his wine cup, and stared straight at him. He knew the Lord had taken the bait. "My sister is a generous and wise person, and she will ultimately pacify the turmoil and rebellion in the entire North. If you are willing to provide assistance to the kingdom, she will absolutely find a good piece of land for your roots to be planted."

The Lord said nothing and drank the wine in his cup in one gulp.

Late at night, he walked out of the Lord's hall with a hint of tipsy haze. The cool night curtain immediately enveloped him, and the lights of the hall cast his shadow long across the courtyard, lonely and solitary. The breeze in the distance made the leaves rustle, provoking dogs to bark, and the biting cold air also took away his last bit of drunkenness.

The Lord would undoubtedly summon the warriors of the clan. Perhaps he had succeeded, but besides the Wull clan, he still had to find a few more families. How long this would delay things was hard to predict.

The Lord promised that after most of his cavalry gathered, they would wait at the Shadow Tower to rendezvous with the cavalry of other clans, and a small portion would follow him and Lyra to find the leaders of other mountain clans. For the Lord's generosity, Jon had nothing to repay. Now, he had enough confidence to find enough cavalry to defeat Mance Rayder, but he was even more worried about that eagle that might cause his plan to fail.

He walked down the corridor of the Lord's huge wooden keep, pacing slowly in the darkness, quietly listening to the calls coming from the wind.

"Snow, Snow," he seemed to hear, "Jon, Jon," like the calling of leaves.

Unknowingly, he was already standing under the heart tree in Lord Flint's keep. Even in the dark night, Jon still felt he could clearly see the pale trunk of the heart tree, the red leaves, and the face on the heart tree with red tears flowing.

"Snow," the leaves called.

He opened his eyes wide.

"Jon," the wind was saying.

"Who's there?" he asked aloud.

Lyra walked out from the darkness behind him. The leaves stopped speaking, and the wind also ceased.

"Tomorrow, we go find the Harklays," he said to her. If this was a cycle, then he would break this loop.

"Are you still drunk, thinking about these things here?" she asked.

"Not drunk, but my head is starting to ache again," he smiled bitterly. "I am thinking, we will gather enough troops, not just eight hundred, not just one thousand, but we haven't solved that eagle. That is one of the prerequisites for victory. I must plug this loophole before I can sleep soundly."

"Will the heart tree tell you the answer?" Lyra asked. "I heard they remember everything, perhaps, but no one has ever said they can speak and tell people answers."

"Perhaps they will!" Jon turned and looked at the mottled leaves. "I feel that just now, it was them speaking to me."

"What did they say to you?"

"'Snow', 'Snow', I heard them say," Jon shook his head and smiled bitterly, just like the ravens at the Wall.

"Hehe, relying on 'Snow' alone won't solve the eagle. We leave early tomorrow morning. Get some sleep; perhaps the heart tree will tell you the answer in your dreams." She pulled her cloak tight. "It's really cold outside."

After Lyra left, he stayed for a while longer. He hoped the heart tree could give him some hints, but now, besides the barking coming from down the mountain, he could hear nothing.

Indeed, relying on 'Snow' alone couldn't solve the eagle, so he turned back to his room. Before falling asleep, he hoped to dream of that eagle and take a good look at its weaknesses.

He did dream, but not the kind he hoped for.

He dreamed that Styr led their wildling army to fight against a group of people even fiercer than wildlings on the Kingsroad. The Thenns under Styr were far more numerous than these savages, but the savages looked even more fearless of death, as if they were desperately protecting something, refusing to give an inch.

He dreamed of Ygritte. She was also on the side, harvesting the lives of the savages with arrows she had made herself. A flying axe flew past her face; she dodged sideways but broke her bow. She immediately threw away the broken bow, drew the dagger at her waist, and rolled over a high hill.

"Leave quickly!" he shouted, but no one paid him any mind.

Styr shouted things Jon couldn't understand at her and the other wildlings, but Jon understood that it was to have the wildlings chase the remaining savages.

Ygritte looked disdainful when she received the order, but still chased forward with the other wildlings.

"Don't go over!" Jon shouted. No one responded to him.

The fleeing savages turned their horses around, stopped, and continued to block the wildlings. They shouted to their companions in front, "Run quickly."

At this moment, Jon saw clearly that the horses the savages were riding had turned into things with long horns... Jon didn't know what those were, unicorns?

The savages held spears, hacking and stabbing at the wildlings chasing them. There was not a hint of fear.

Ygritte dodged dangerously, but her dagger was knocked away by another savage, and she retreated again and again. The Thenns held bronze battle-axes and hacked fiercely at the unicorns, but when the axe fell on a unicorn's head, the man trembled and fell to the ground, only to be stabbed to death by a spear from the savage riding the unicorn. However, the unicorn rider also immediately had an axe that had been thrown hit his head, and he fell from the unicorn.

"Run, Ygritte!" Jon shouted.

Ygritte took the opportunity to pick up the dagger, but just as she stood up, she was immediately pierced through the body by the horn of another unicorn. Several Thenns took the opportunity to kill the unicorn and then immediately chased forward.

Jon watched helplessly as she fell, wanting to save her, but found his feet were frozen.

Jon could only shout her name repeatedly, "Ygritte!"

He wanted to go over and hold her, but found he couldn't move no matter what. He could only shout from the side, tears streaming down his face for her.

She fell on the snow, and Jon watched with his own eyes as blood flowed from her body, slowly staining the snow red.

She was breathing faintly, murmuring on the snow. He shouldn't have heard clearly, but he just knew what she was saying, "Jon, Jon. Is it you? Have you come?"

"It's me, I've come," he shouted.

Then he saw her smile, a smile so sorrowful, and then the light in her eyes dissipated.

He woke up from endless sorrow. When he woke, the room was pitch black, the fire in the fireplace had faded, and the room was cold. He felt the wounds on his shoulder and leg starting to ache.

After this dream, he felt he had no more sleepiness, so he pushed away the smelly fur quilt, got up, put on his cloak, and returned to the Lord's courtyard. Grayness still filled the sky, but he could already see the distant mountains.

The air before dawn was even colder, the soil on the ground was frozen hard, he felt the biting cold of the earth coming through his feet, and the hair on his back stood up from the cold. He pulled his cloak tight and kept moving forward.

The world was silent. He arrived before the heart tree again, unknowingly.

He could not pray for Ygritte, only wishing the Old Gods would have mercy on this lover.

He stared quietly at the face of the heart tree. This time, he could see every scratch on this face clearly: it was no larger than the heart tree at Winterfell, it didn't look smaller, and the face wasn't more terrifying than the one at Winterfell. It was filled with an aura of quietude; at this moment, there was no anger, no shouting. The wind and frost hit its face, freezing the lines of its features, making it look like an old grandfather with a white beard, quietly staring ahead.

I hoped to dream about the eagle, but you made me dream of her, Jon wanted to say to the old grandfather.

Jon felt it wasn't as cold under the tree as elsewhere, and the wind was much smaller, so he sat on the protruding roots of the heart tree and began to let his thoughts wander aimlessly.

If I hadn't lost that horse, I should have reached Castle Black by now, right? he thought. If I returned to Castle Black, would I only be able to helplessly send letters of appeal to nobles everywhere by raven? The lords would surely think this was Castle Black exaggerating to gain support! They might pretend to be generous, empty the various bastards in the prisons who were consuming their grain, and proudly think they had fulfilled their obligations to the Wall, right? How would Winterfell react? He didn't want to think about it; perhaps his sister would give up going south.

He thanked that horse in his heart for taking him into the mountains. Regrettably, he hadn't observed it well. Was it gray or brown? Its mane was so long. He remembered that when he held the reins, he could insert his hand completely into its mane. So warm. This was the only comfort, the only persistence along the way. Not only that, it left at the most appropriate place. If it had waited for me there...

He felt so lucky. The horse luckily brought him into the mountains and handed him over to Zahuzi and Huding, making him think of the mountain clans and giving him a place to use his skills. From every corner of his heart, he thanked the arrangement of the Old Gods.

Mance Rayder, since fate is such, I will end all of this with my own hands.

He leaned against the tree and fell asleep.

He felt he was flying.

He flew over the mountains and forests, shuttling above the scattered rocks and trees, soaring at will along the white snow domes they held up. He flew downward.

The Lord's wooden keep was so small.

He dove, and the tree stumps in the distance grew larger in his eyes, but this couldn't stump him. He flapped his wings and leaped, passing by by a hair's breadth, taking away the patches of snow lingering on the stumps.

Wings? Oh, so I am a bird. No, I am a small flower eagle. No, I am an adult eagle. I am the Lord of the Skies of this forest area. Did I defeat another eagle not long ago? I forgot. I never think about losers.

He soared everywhere, easily passing over the Lord's village, and checked everywhere. At the edge of the forest, he saw a squirrel that had walked out of its tree hole.

It's so funny, looking so chubby and dull-witted. It would probably be delicious, but I'm full now.

He decided to dive down and give it a good scare, so he circled once, flapped his wings to climb, and then leaped down.

Oh ho, this big-tailed mouse, running so fast. Hehe, I'm just scaring you. Wow, why is the dense forest so dark?

He felt uncomfortable, then leaped out of the deep forest in a few strokes and climbed upward.

The air is so crisp and cold, my nasal cavity must be frozen, right? He wasn't afraid and continued to climb upward. The dense forest where the squirrel was became smaller and smaller, and soon it became a small patch of bushes.

Forget it, I won't play with you anymore. I want to see just how small you can get.

So he continued to climb up. Oh, this is a cloud, a bit hard to see. He lowered his altitude and glided along the edge of the gray water vapor.

I'm so fast, the cloud debris is following behind my butt.

Finally passing through this cloud, he decided to continue flying above the cloud layer. Oh, the cloud is also very small, just a tiny piece, floating there. Cloud, oh, you are too slow. He cut through the gray cloud quickly.

Hey, I've already seen the sun. The sunlight shining on my body is so comfortable.

He continued to fly upward. The sunlight above must be even more comfortable.

Oh, the sun is so big. It must have wings too, half the sky is its wings, red, and a bit golden. No no no, you will also become small. He decided to continue climbing upward.

Oh, it's so cold up here, the sunlight is no longer useful. Hey, my nose is very uncomfortable. Sigh, I can't flap anymore. He decided to lower his altitude a bit.

Oh, the feeling of diving is still better. Lord, your wooden keep is already a sesame seed, not even enough for me to eat in one bite. Your small village is also too small, like a peanut shell, but I don't like eating beans. I like eating fish, mice, rabbits, and snakes, I don't like those with big tails. Sigh, how could I like eating these?

He circled constantly in the sky.

So relaxed, I can fly without moving my wings. Hey, I can glide from the Norreys to the Flints, and I can glide from the Flints to the Wulls, but this altitude isn't enough to glide to Castle Black. No no, the Wall is a restricted area, only stinking ravens would wander around the Wall.

I must return. Big-tailed mouse, I'm going to tease you again. So he prepared to return.

Turning is so easy, I just need to raise one wing. Oh, I also have to consider the wind, I was almost flipped over just now.

Hey, this wind speed is just right, I can drift if I want to, maybe I can drift to the Shadow Tower like this. Oh ho. The mice at the Shadow Tower are more delicious than elsewhere. Oh, no, I don't like eating those, my favorite should be the braised beef at Winterfell.

Sigh, where is Winterfell? Forget it, if I can't remember, I'll go find the big-tailed mouse.

He went downward, sometimes circling, sometimes diving.

Wow, this feeling is so good, if only it were faster. So he flapped his wings downward and accelerated his dive. Oh ho.

Sigh, why is the sunlight gone again? He spread his wings, glided through the slow cloud mist, and headed toward the big-tailed mouse.

The Lord's wooden keep became larger. Sigh, there is a red tree there.

Oh, that's the ravens' tree. There are no ravens inside now, go take a look?

Go take a look! Oh, white trunk, and a human face. This one is a bit different from the one at the Wulls', the Wull one is truly terrifying.

Hey, there's someone next to it? Brown hair, long horse face, a bit familiar. Let me look again. This appearance?

The bird suddenly woke up, did a somersault in the sky, and let out a long, mournful cry.

Jon was startled awake again.

What a strange dream, I turned into a bird? No, I turned into an eagle.

What a proud bird! Jon was astonished and hurriedly stood up from the roots of the weirwood tree. He didn't know how to describe his current mood. He complained to the old grandfather, and the old grandfather actually responded to him? He looked at the face on this weirwood tree that appeared somewhat kind, feeling both shocked and bitter.

Now it's good, I finally know the heaviness of this body.

The Lord's old servant had also left his bed. He stood in the other corner of the courtyard, looking at Jon from afar. He must be wondering why I got up so early, right?

Jon pulled his cloak tight, continued to approach the heart tree, took off his gloves, and placed his hand on the pale, scarred trunk of the weirwood. You want me to know the weaknesses of the bird, you wouldn't make me lure it with a fat squirrel with a big tail, right? He smiled bitterly.

"Lord, it's so cold, what are you doing here?" The old servant had approached Jon.

His wrinkles were deeper than Old Nan's at Winterfell, but his stature was much smaller than Old Nan's. However, he looked spirited, and his movements were quite agile. He was wrapped in layers of heavy furs, like a small bear in the mountains.

"I am not a Lord. I am Qiongenxuenuo of the Night's Watch at the Wall," he said. "I just fell asleep here."

"I know who you are. You are Eddard Stark's son," he said. "I have seen your father. He also stayed in this courtyard, just like you, facing this heart tree. But he didn't sleep beside the heart tree. We wouldn't let the Duke of Winterfell sleep by the tree."

Jon smiled. Just as the heart tree at Winterfell had seen every generation of Kings in the North, Wardens of the North, and their descendants, it was no surprise that this heart tree had seen some of them.

The old man's name was Toren, and he was sixty-three years old this year. According to him, he had served the Flint tribe his whole life, and now that he was old, he managed the kitchen for the Lord.

"Let me tell you, I've made all kinds of dishes, from ravens flying in the sky to perch in the river, and all kinds of wild beasts in the forest. I've made them all into dishes. Not only that, I also know their various cooking methods, and I can always find the one that suits the Lord's taste. Oh, I usually collect various plants and fruits in the mountains, some can be made into spices, bean paste. Hey, Qiongenxuenuo, if you want to eat, you can tell the chieftain, and I guarantee you, you'll be satisfied. I'm so small and so old, and I wasn't thrown into the forest to hunt, all because of this unique skill of mine. Oh, you wouldn't find me long-winded, would you? People get old and like to be long-winded. Little Donn says I'm a long-winded little old man." The old man stood under the tree and chatted with him.

Jon smiled, feeling he wouldn't be able to eat the dishes made by the old man. He would set off at dawn to find the Harklay leader.

"Flying in the sky, have you ever eaten an eagle?" Jon asked.

"Eagle, oh, such a precious animal, how can it be eaten? I've only eaten it once in my life. That hunting eagle was so brave that it crashed into the thorns of the jungle. By the time my good friend and I found it, it was already dead. Sigh, we ate it while crying. I tell you, that taste was truly painful." He fell into memories.

"Was that friend of yours also a Flint?" Jon felt that the solution he was struggling to think of might be in these clues.

"Him? No. He was a man of the Yet small clan. Not as good as us Flints. Their clan likes hunting eagles to catch wild beasts for them."

"Are eagles all very brave?"

"Eagles are the bravest, brave to the point of recklessness, sigh!" The old man sighed.

"Do eagles hunt other eagles?" Jon asked.

The old man looked at Jon curiously. "I never thought I would one day talk about this kind of thing with Ned's son!" He chuckled. "If eagles could hunt eagles, why would falconers need to climb dangerous peaks to catch them? Eagles occasionally fighting is just for territory, same as people!"

Jon was disappointed. Using trained eagles to hunt the warg's eagle was whimsical from the start. Jon turned his head to look at the "old grandfather" on the weirwood tree. Are you trying to tell me that I can also turn into an eagle?

The red leaves swayed without a word. ===== CHAPTER 25 =====