The fire sword in Jon's hand was vividly lifelike, as if it were a solid object forged from red and yellow crystal.
A few years ago, if the dwarf had seen this, he would certainly have cried out things like "a miracle" or "by the Seven Gods."
But someone who has seen the sea would never again marvel at the breadth of a lake."Compared to the Dragon Queen, this is far inferior. Her heat waves roll endlessly. With a single slash, even without a sharp blade to cut, she can roast a man half-cooked. Yours…"
Tyrion stretched out his hand and slowly approached the fire sword hovering above Jon's palm. Only when he was about ten centimeters from the blade did he barely feel a faint, stinging sensation of heat.
"In both size and temperature, it's no match for hers."
Jon waved his hand, withdrew his magic, and said calmly, "I'm a shadowbinder. She is a Valyrian fire mage. Different professions."
In truth, Tyrion ought to have been amazed, because Jon had not only removed his mask and no longer feared the light, but could also control the power of flame. That already placed him above ninety-nine percent of shadowbinders.
Tam, the head of Daenerys's royal mage corps, was inferior to him, and Kuiqi of Asshai had been left far behind as well.
Well, Kuiqi was still afraid of the light.
Kuiqi's talent was also formidable, but Jon possessed true dragon blood. His affinity for fire sorcery was simply too strong.
Daenerys's adopted son Simba was only suspected of having the potential to inherit a perfect archmage's legacy, but Jon would certainly be able, like Daenerys, to condense the nine-colored vortex.
He was Rhaegar's son, and he was also a perfected Holy Spirit.
Without such talent, how could he be worthy of being coveted by a true god?
Of course, this did not mean Jon should regret learning Tam's legacy. If he had not mastered the skills of a shadowbinder, he would have been forcibly resurrected by Melisandre long ago, and no matter how strong his Holy Spirit talent was, it would have had nothing to do with him.
"Fire sorcery can be blocked by shields and armor. The True Dragon Roar is the real weapon for mass combat. Five knights are definitely no match for the Dragon Queen," Tyrion said, shaking his head.
"Heh, then try this," Jon chuckled softly. His gray eyes gradually turned red, and as the blood color deepened, the human emotions within them faded.
In the end, Jon's expression became icy, his eyes blood-red. When Tyrion met his gaze, he felt an instinctive terror, as if a lone wolf were staring at a sheep.
"How… is… it?" Beast-eyed Jon spat out the words. Tyrion's vision blurred, and he saw a blood-eyed white wolf as tall as a calf lunging at him, clamping down on his face in a bite that pierced to the bone.
"Ah!" His whole body stiffened, his spine turned icy, and he cried out in shock.
Then the illusion vanished, and he saw Jon's bearded, weathered face.
"Well?" Jon asked with a smile.
"Was that… a wolf's roar?" The dwarf wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and asked curiously.
"Daenerys's True Dragon Roar uses the dragon soul to unleash a spiritual attack. Put plainly, it still relies on the dragon.
"My direwolf is no ordinary creature either. Ordinary people feel fear just by seeing it. I studied her secret art and developed the 'Winter Wolf Howl.'"
"That's her core secret, isn't it? How did you learn it?" the dwarf asked in alarm.
In Jon's mind flashed the image of his younger brother Bran. He lowered his gaze and said, "Melisandre taught me."
"Hiss…" The dwarf sucked in a sharp breath and murmured, "That woman is terrifying. She not only cracked the Dragon Queen's secret, but even managed to steal and learn her arcane technique."
"Five knights definitely can't deal with her!" The dwarf grew even more convinced.
Jon shook his head. "You've misunderstood my point. The Dragon Queen is very strong, I don't deny that, but most of her strength relies on her dragons.
"In other words, if I had a dragon, or if Melisandre had a dragon, neither of us would be much weaker than her. At the very least, it wouldn't be a case where we can't beat five knights, while she can easily sweep aside fifty.
"When you assess Melisandre's level of strength, you can't use the Dragon Queen with dragons as your benchmark.
"If you completely set aside the aid of dragons, five elite knights could still threaten her life."
"If I arrange five knights, can they really kill the Red Priestess?" the dwarf asked in disbelief.
"More or less," Jon hesitated for a moment, then nodded lightly. "Maybe there's no need to deal with her at all."
"I don't believe it. I don't believe five knights can handle her," the dwarf said, shaking his head.
"Extraordinary individuals aren't as strong as you imagine. At least in a frontal fight, they're far less effective than a simple iron sword.
"For example, me right now. If I didn't have my direwolf, three fully armored swordsmen could certainly kill me."
"You?" The dwarf looked the younger man up and down suspiciously, then shook his head. "You wouldn't do. You're a shapeshifter. Without your wolf, how are you any different from an ordinary knight?"
Jon actually was very formidable now. He had already surpassed Kuiqi and become the undisputed number one of the younger generation.
Moreover, his assessment of the upper limits of extraordinary power was extremely accurate.
If it were Daenerys when she had just arrived at the Wall, without dragons and without the True Dragon Roar, five competent knights could definitely have taken her down.
If five iron-clad knights charged together, and a mage could not kill them instantly, taking even a single sword strike would leave them crippled if not dead.
Aunt Mel could go without food or drink, but if she swallowed poison while unguarded, she would still die. Stab her with a sword, and she would bleed and die all the same.
Daenerys would also face mortal danger on the battlefield. Otherwise, why would she make her armor so sturdy?
The demigods of this world were much like the demons in Western films. They sounded and looked incredibly powerful, yet in the end they could still be shot dead or stabbed to death with a knife.
"You keep asking me about the Red Priestess's strength. I've told you already, yet you still refuse to believe it."
"Do you know Euron? The uncle of Theon the Chameleon. How many years has he been a warlock? Yet he can already summon a sea monster. Melisandre is practically a demigod."
"Without the sea monster, three knights could still take down Euron," Jon said with certainty.
"You make it sound easy, but the reality is this: the Dragon Queen has dragons, you have a direwolf, and Euron has a sea monster.
"Even a fool knows that the Red Woman must have a trump card as well," the dwarf said woodenly.
"You asked me a question, and I didn't lie to you. I told you the truth. Do you expect me to ignore the facts and give you the answer you want to hear?
"Fine. Melisandre can take on five hundred, five thousand men single-handedly. One person equals an entire army, capable of destroying cities and annihilating kingdoms by herself.
"Stannis is completely unnecessary. She is a god who came to Westeros to toy with the mortal world.
"When the Long Night falls, she will wave her hand to dispel the cold and summon the sun. She will stamp her foot, and heaven and earth will shatter, the Others all crushed into ice-crystal shards.
"When the Long Night ends, the whole world will sing her praises," Jon said irritably.
The dwarf's ugly face twisted.
On the fourth day after retaking Winterfell, the Starks restored their rule over Winterfell. Four days were enough for ravens to fly back and forth between Winterfell and the Northern lords, and Winterfell preliminarily reestablished its authority over the North.
Neutral nobles immediately swore fealty to Jon and promised to set out at once to come to Winterfell in person to offer Jon Stark their swords and their knees.
The Northern nobles who had sided with the Boltons, after receiving Jon's pardon, also immediately returned to their loyalty to the Starks.
Almost all the nobles who had backed the Boltons disliked the Boltons and did not hate the Starks either.
At that time, the Stark house had been exterminated, and there was no one left to swear allegiance to. To preserve their families, they had no choice but to set aside their hatred for the Boltons. After the Red Wedding, every noble house in the North wore mourning, and all despised the Boltons and the Freys.
For example, House Umber of Last Hearth.
Who was the strongest man in the North?
Greatjon Umber.
Consider one of Greatjon's famous moments: when Robb had just succeeded to his title and held a great feast for his bannermen, Greatjon took advantage of Robb's youth (he was not yet fourteen) to mock his liege lord publicly as a weakling, even drawing his sword to threaten him.
With a single look from Robb, he directed Grey Wind, the direwolf, to leap onto the table, snatch away Greatjon's sword, and bite off two of his fingers. Not only did Greatjon bear no grudge, he laughed loudly and praised the Young Wolf's courage. To dare strike back so fiercely against a brute like me, that takes guts.
From that moment on, Greatjon became Robb's most loyal lieutenant.
Another famous moment: at the Red Wedding, all the Freys feared Greatjon's prowess, so they took turns toasting him, hoping to get him drunk. Greatjon accepted every cup and truly became drunk.
Then one of the most astonishing battles in A Song of Ice and Fire occurred.
Eight armored Frey knights versus a drunken, unarmed Greatjon.
Under the combined assault of the knights, and repeated sneak attacks from crossbowmen on the second floor, Greatjon was finally gravely wounded and captured.
Yet one Frey was killed on the spot, two were severely wounded, and another had an ear bitten off.
That record was even more exaggerated than Arthur Dayne's.
Back to the main point.
Greatjon was held hostage at the Twins. Of his two uncles, one joined Stannis, determined to avenge the Starks; the other led the family to submit to the Boltons.
Clearly, House Umber was betting on both sides.
Their submission to the Boltons was solely to preserve the family. There was not a shred of loyalty in it.
Most of the nobles on the Bolton side were in the same situation as the Umbers. Faced with Jon's return as the rightful king, how could they possibly resist to the bitter end?
After Winterfell had stabilized, Queen Sansa sent an invitation to her elder brother, and Jon gladly accepted.
Another day later, he appointed Maege Mormont to serve temporarily as castellan of Winterfell. He then took his younger brother Rickon and boarded Tyrion's Tesha to travel to the Vale to visit kin.
The next morning, the weather was clear.
The sun was like a miser, casting only thin warmth over the training yard, which was covered in black, wet mud.
Led by Stannis's fiery knights, several thousand mercenaries wearing cloaks emblazoned with flaming red hearts swung their swords and hacked away, shouting rhythmically.
Brienne of Tarth pressed her lips together. Her left hand, encased in a lobster gauntlet, gripped the hilt of her sword tightly. The faint warmth of the sun seemed unable to dispel the gloom in her heart, and an unmistakable heaviness showed on her rough, round face.
Iron boots moved across the ground, kicking up flecks of black mud that sullied the snow-white cloak trailing behind her.
Under the curious and probing gazes of the knights of the flaming heart, she crossed the training field and entered the shadow of a cluster of tall buildings.
Looking up, she saw a gray stone structure four stories high and as wide as a great hall.
The guest quarters of Winterfell, Stannis's residence.
"Brienne of Tarth?" Godry Farring appraised the female knight with a critical gaze.
Her familiar ugly face drew a sneer to his lips, and the soot-black armor she wore only deepened it.
When his eyes shifted to the white cloak fluttering behind her in the bitter wind, the sneer turned into an inexplicable jealousy and resentment.
Brienne, however, did not find it inexplicable. She had encountered him several times before and knew him to be arrogant and self-important, greedy for honor, and contemptuous of women, especially women whose renown surpassed his own.
Her experiences after gaining the Dragon Queen's title of "Cloakless Iron Guard" had already given Brienne an awareness of herself as a famed woman.
Brienne's caterpillar-thick lips wriggled a few times as she said in a very unnatural tone, "Ser Farring, I am here to request an audience with Lord Stannis. I hope you will announce me."
(End of chapter)
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