Jon's Room, New Keep:
'This is much bigger than I anticipated,' Jon thought to himself as he finished his quick wash, having only dumped himself into the cold water for a few seconds before standing back out of the metal tub.
Drying himself off and beginning to get dressed, he couldn't help but frown as his thoughts drifted to last night.
He had miscalculated in feeding first on the main guy instead of subduing all three with Alluring Gaze, especially with the chance there being that he could have had information on who exactly was targeting the North.
Questioning the other two didn't help considering they were just foot soldiers and didn't know anything. Thus, he was left to just feed on them and refuel his Aether as much as he could.
At least he was now prepared for the potential battles to come, though he hoped there weren't any battles.
"Remember, stay hidden and don't let anyone find you." Ghost gave a low huff in response and Jon smiled as he felt his familiar's begrudging agreement coming through their link.
Rubbing behind his ears and kissing the top of his head, Jon walked to his chest and pulled out the black half-plate chest plate along with the new gauntlets.
Putting on his leather brigandine to act as a padded under-layer, Jon carefully put on and buckled the midnight black half-plate over his torso.
The polished Stark wolf sigil sat in silver over his left breast where the Manderly merman sigil previously were, the gauntlets having the same design on the back of the hands as his hands slipped into them.
'A perfect fit,' he thought with a smile, strapping the greaves to his legs and hopping around to make sure they sat right.
Satisfied with his jumping, he picked up the sheathed sword on his bed and strapped it at his hip, taking one final glance and smiling at Ghost.
"See you later, bud," he whispered and left the room, locking the door behind him. As he made his way through the hallways of New Keep, he couldn't help but walk with a straight posture as several people noticed him.
He could hear their whispers of his bastard status and some were of how he looked, but none clung to his form as he continued making his way towards the exit.
Stepping through the main door, he was met with the freezing morning air, grey eyes locked onto where Ser Marlon stood waiting.
The man was deep in conversation about something with Ser Wendel, but Jon ignored their discussion and instead focused as one guard walked closer to hand a him a kettlehelm.
"Wear it at all times unless Ser Marlon orders you to remove it."
"Understood, ser."
"Not a ser," the guard replied with an indifferent tone as he put on his own half-helm, one Jon was all too used to as he simply nodded. Putting the helm on, he fell in line with the rest of the guards and was not surprised to see some of them having subtle frowns.
Wherever the location, bastards were never welcome.
"Ah, Snow. You finally readied up?" Ser Marlon spoke as he noticed him, Jon bowing his head to Ser Marlon who nodded back before the man walked to the main keep's entrance.
"I am, ser."
"Good. Now that Snow is here, here are the rules. You do not deviate from the formation nor do you attempt to interrogate someone without me there. Stay closely in formation and fight as one. Am I clear?"
"Yes, ser!" Jon barked along with the guards and Ser Marlon nodded as the man turned and marched towards the exit.
"Good! Now, on your horses, men! We leave for Moat Cailin immediately!"
"The Moat Cailin?" Jon asked out loud, which Marlon heard as he snorted while climbing onto the sole destrier amongst the garrons the stableboys brought closer.
"Ser Marlon has already checked the harbor vaults this morning and they were empty, but a scout reported seeing a group of people running out the gates past the Hour of the Ghosts. They were last seen heading east towards the Kingsroad so we're following them."
'Another change already.' Jon thought as he vaulted onto Old Boy, who stomped his hoof into the ground as the rest of the ten guardsmen climbed onto their horses.
"Remember! Stay close and fight as one! Let's move out!"
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Old Boy's hooves drummed heavy against the frozen dirt roads, the wind howling in Jon's ears as he rode near the front next to Ser Marlon.
His thoughts however were towards their targets that had managed to escape.
'Why in the hell are they heading south towards the Neck?' Unless they were trying to block off the North from the South, there wasn't any reason for them to flee in that direction.
Of course, they could also be returning to report to their employer, but that would be stupid. Leading them to someone trying to destabilise the North was equivalent to tying a noose around that person's neck.
No, something else was wrong and he knew that Ser Marlon thought the same.
"I see fresh tracks!" The knight in question shouted, Jon's eyes looking forward and narrowing at the sight of several tracks in the snow and mud leading off the road into nearby rocky terrain.
It wasn't as mountainous as the cliffs of White Harbour or Barrowlands, but there were still several points to hide behind or in, making Jon frown as Ser Marlon brought their horses to a slow trot.
Gripping Old Boy's reigns tighter with his left hand, his right hand twitched as it rested on his thigh, ready to unsheathe the sword at his side.
"Form up, men!" Ser Marlon grunted and they all followed, the man's destrier shifting its weight when the knight drew his sword.
Following his example as the ten house guards moved their kite shields to shield the horses' flank, Jon stayed closer as he unsheathed his blade as well.
"Keep your eyes on the high ground, lads! Snow, Blackmyre, stay on my h-!"
The sound something clicking drew Jon's attention as his eyes drifted to the side, jaw tightening at the sight of a crossbow being held by someone hiding behind a spire.
TWANG! TWANG! TWANG!
"Ambush!" The collective sound of several crossbows firing echoed in the air, slicing through the air as Jon pulled Old Boy's reins to steady him.
The first bolt flew right into a guard's raised shield, splintering the wood with a sharp CRACK. The second tore cleanly through the neck of a garron next to him, Jon reaching out and pulling the guard off before the beast could fall onto him.
The third however flew past, directly at the guard that had handed Jon his kettlehelm before they left the keep.
"Flowing Red Scale." The sounds of the world dimmed as Jon's pupils dilated heavily. His muscles flexed and his arm whipped up, parrying the bolt up into the air.
The world snapped back into motion and Ser Marlon snapped out of his shock to let out a deafening roar, one that spurned on the guards as they charged with him.
"On the ridge! Six of them!" Jon shouted as he vaulted off Old Boy as the horse charged towards the closest one, who panicked as the Snow bastard swung his sword down.
Blocking it with the crossbow was for naught as the weapon shattered, Jon rolling with his jump and spinning towards the target.
The target in question's eyes snapped to Jon as they reached at their back, Jon's eyes shifting to the shortsword in their right hand and a dirk in the left.
The pale liquid staining their blades made his eyes narrow as he stood, twirling his sword while his foe held their own with a shaky grip.
They tried lunging forward a few times as feint, but Jon did not fall for the bait, eyes focused on the enemy. The moment their eyes drifted to one of the approaching guards, Jon rushed forward and swung his sword.
The man looked stunned as he turned back, raising his shortsword to parry the strike. Instead of meeting the defence head-on, Jon smirked and subtly shifted his angle, smacking the blade to the side.
Knocking the man's arm wide, he avoided the dirk and stepped into his guard, driving his steel-clad gauntlet straight into his jaw. A loud snap could be heard as the man fell to the ground and Jon pushed forward, kicking both of his weapons to the side.
At the same time, one hand pinned him by the neck while the other reached into his mouth, pushing down the man's broken jaw. He fiddled around inside before grinning as he pulled out a small capsule, pleased at the terror that replaced the cautious look of smug victory he had.
"Don't move," he spoke as he left his sword resting against his throat, his Gaze of Command activating for a brief moment and leaving the man in a paralysed stupor.
His gaze then drifted to the battle as he stood up, smoothly sheathing his sword while dragging the man's body by his leg.
Reaching where Old Boy was standing silently, he threw the man's paralysed form over the horse and wanted to join in, but found the battle nearing its end.
Ser Marlon was a menace as his heavy boots stomped on the chest of a mercenary on the ground, audibly snapping his ribs. The man continued to the last of the six mercenaries that had ambushed them, and Jon was not surprised to see him on the ground.
"M-Mercy! Mercy, milord!"
"Aye, I'll give ya mercy!" With a heavy twhap from the back of his morning-star, the mercenary cried out as their nose shattered, two of the guards rushing forth to pin them down.
Jon however frowned as he saw four of the guards lying on the ground, three of them having a sword in their neck or chest that was bleeding out purplish blood.
The last one was the young guard who had handed him his kettlehelm, lying on the ground while crying out as the same purplish-red blood poured from the cut on their calf.
'He's not going to make it to a maester,' Jon thought with a frown, glancing at Ser Marlon to see the same grim look on the man's face.
Well, time to see if he would raise his standing amongst them.
"Ser Marlon," Jon spoke up, drawing the man's attention as Jon tore away part of his pants leg and the belts around the waist of two of the bodies on the ground.
"What, Snow?"
"My father had Maester Luwin teach me how to handle field wounds and poisons since a young age as he wanted me to perhaps join the Citadel. Let me look."
"Go ahead," Marlon spoke with a grunt and Jon nodded, kneeling down next to the young guard while biting at the fabric. Tearing it length-wise to make it longer, he sliced open his thumb with his teeth at the same time as he pushed against the wound.
"Keep him pinned!" Jon barked out as the young guard began to pull away, to which several helped pin him down while grimacing at the agonised shrieks of the guard.
"Coiled Serpent." His Aether coiled at his finger tip and spilled out through the blood that poured into the wound. With a thought, he accelerated the boy's blood flow while taking note of the foreign substance inside the wound.
Wrapping his own blood around the substance and freezing them, he slowly began to pull them out as he also tied the belts as tight as he could, ignoring the cries of the guard.
"I understand it's painful, but that's good!" Jon grunted, drawing bewildered looks from the few younger guards.
"Right, pain means you're still alive," One of the older, more experienced ones spoke in a gruff tone as he held down the young guard's shoulders. There was a hint of respect and surprise in the guard's eyes as he looked at Jon, who finished tying the torn cloth.
Picking up a nearby scabbard, he tied the ends of the cloth at both ends of the scabbard and began to turn, relieved that the young guard had passed out as he twisted until he felt it was enough.
'Thank you, memories of Saving Private Ryan and 127 Hours,' Jon thought as he stood up after tying the tourniquet tight, jumping when Ser Marlon smacked his back with a laugh.
"Ha!! I'm beginning to like ya, Snow! Effective in battle and as a healer!!"
"I merely did what I was taught, ser," Jon replied smoothly, though he smiled as the man snorted and shook his head.
"No need to be modest," the man replied with a grunt and Jon nodded. "Alright, men! Scour the area and see if we can't find a wagon to carry the dead back!"
"Ser Marlon, I captured one alive." Jon's words drew the knight's gaze as he stared at the young Snow with a frown.
"You did?" Instead of replying, Jon walked over to Old Boy and lifted the body of the paralysed mercenary.
"You can move, but you won't run. Act normal as you would and when you're being interrogated, tell them everything you know and what they need to find anyone else," Jon commander as his eyes flashed red for a brief moment when his back was turned to Marlon, putting the mercenary on his feet.
"Seven hells, you did," Marlon spoke with an excited tone, "and you broke his bloody jaw too! Good lad!"
Jon just pushed the mercenary towards Ser Marlon, who roughly grabbed the man by his hair and grinned at the blood leaking past his teeth.
"Oh, we're going to enjoy having you as a guest in our cells. Snow! You're on guard duty with him until we move! The rest of ya, find those damn wagons!"
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Later that night:
Lord's Solar, New Keep:
"So, those six were the only ones?" Wyman asked as he sat behind his desk, looking at his heir Wylis and Marlon standing in front of his desk.
"According to the prisoner, it seems the six of them were to wait for another shipment of armour and men before heading south," Marlon explained with a frown. "However, due to us finding out of their supposed secrets, they decided to make due with what they had."
"And this prisoner spilled everything?" Wyman asked, eyes narrowing as Marlon nodded with a grin.
"After what Snow did to him? The damn bastard was all too eager to let us know everything." That made Wyman raise an eyebrow, though he didn't say anything as he simply nodded.
"What of the prisoner? What did he reveal?" Marlon glanced at Wylis, who was the one to respond.
"Firstly, we found four more crates of Lysene Greycap poison hidden beneath the tapestry wool in their wagons," Wylis replied, drawing a frown from his father. "Secondly, they were to head south and garrison the ruined towers of Moat Cailin."
"For what reason? Were they planning to hold the Neck?"
"No, they were waiting for the royal caravan's return. Their plan was to slip the poison into the King's private wine stores and make it look as though he passed of poisoning from the North."
'Not Varys or Pycelle, then,' Wyman thought with a frown, rubbing his chins as he stared at the flame of the room's hearth. Neither would wish for any harm towards the king as that may disturb their plans or the plans of their benefactors.
Renly and Stannis Baratheon were also both out as Wyman was certain neither of the two brothers wished to be kinslayers. That left just one and it was beginning to make more and more sense as he sighed.
'It appears the little mocking bird is playing at the strings of the world, but what is his goal?'
"I see," Wyman murmured before he looked to Ser Marlon. "What of Jon? How did he do?"
"The boy's skilled," Marlon replied, arms crossed with a rare grin splitting his face. "He didn't hesitate nor did he blink. If I didn't know any better, I'd say the boy had fought a dozen skirmishes already."
That was high praise coming from House Manderly's most strict knight, praise that made Wyman hide his smirk as he nodded.
"Good. I suppose I chose well when I decided to make him my squire," Wyman replied, eyes drifting to the flames once more before his massive palm slammed down on the desk. "Right! Back to the matters at hand! Wylis, bring me parchment and a quill! I have news to send to my liege lord."
"Should I ask the maester to prepare a raven as well?"
"No, this message Wendel and a few guards will personally deliver to Lord Stark," Wyman replied, to which both men bowed their head and left the room.
Leaving the lord of White Harbour alone, he couldn't help the smile that broke across his face as he stared at the notes that Jon had made.
'It appears that House Stark was hiding a wolf with fangs in their darkness, after all. Well done, my lord. Well done.'
A/N: And we end it here!! This was the mini-arc I wanted to add to show off how Jon is.
Next chapter, though: Another time-skip and talking to daughters.
As always, read, enjoy, review and until the next one...
Ba-Bye~!!