Attack King's Landing? Are you kidding me? Roose Bolton thought. In an instant, he seemed to realize what Jon was going to do, but his mouth still uttered some inconsequential words.
"How is that possible? We—" He intended to say they should obey Robb's orders, but Jon cut him off directly.
"Rise."
Jon's command was like the growl of a direwolf—short, lethal, and without warning.
Led by Beric Dondarrion, they rushed at the nearest Dreadfort soldiers and began seizing their weapons.
The "critically injured" soldiers, whose faces were covered in blood just moments ago, wiped the animal blood from their faces, their eyes releasing a fierce light like hungry wolves.
This scene sent a current from the soles of Roose Bolton's feet straight to his scalp, making his hair stand on end.
Some of the "wounded" seized weapons, while others quickly disassembled the stretchers and reassembled them into spears. Their speed was dazzling, as if they had practiced this for a long time.
Harrion dismantled a greatsword directly from his stretcher. Only then did Roose Bolton react. He stood up abruptly, drew his sword, and shouted, "Jon Snow! You are mutinying!" But by then, Harrion was already leading men rapidly toward him.
He shouted loudly, trying to issue orders, but his voice was drowned out by the sounds of slaughter.
"Mutiny! It's a mutiny! Someone is starting a mutiny! Protect the Lord!" Bolin finally realized what was happening and screamed at the guards in the hall. "Open the door! Open the door for me!"
"Do it—" Jon rushed out from the shadows in the corner, engaging directly with the Dreadfort soldiers trying to intercept him.
Wielding dual swords, Jon easily deflected a spear thrust at him by a Dreadfort soldier, then kicked another one away. The kicked soldier flew backward, knocking down four or five of his companions.
When the others recovered, they found the kicked soldier had stopped breathing.
Soon, Harrion, wielding his greatsword, led his soldiers into a melee with Roose Bolton's men.
The sounds of killing inside quickly alerted the Dreadfort soldiers outside. They banged on the door, wanting to know what was happening inside.
Although they couldn't breach the door immediately, someone soon ran to call for reinforcements.
Simultaneously, Martyn, in charge of Jon's heavy armored unit, began to move.
Jon's heavy armored unit had been reorganized into an eight-hundred-man "Heavy Armored Battalion."
Composed of five hundred heavy infantry and three hundred archers, it was the absolute elite of Jon's army.
The moment Martyn saw Jon's raven land in front of him, he led his men rapidly toward the Kingpyre Tower.
The force, dominated by five hundred silver-white heavy armored soldiers, rolled toward the Kingpyre Tower like an unstoppable wheel capable of crushing everything.
The Dreadfort soldiers preparing to reinforce saw this well-equipped army approaching and instantly felt like they were back at the Green Fork.
Although they hadn't participated in the fighting due to Roose Bolton's selfishness, and hadn't clashed head-on with this heavy unit, the army wearing this heavy armor that day had left a deep impression on them.
The Dreadfort soldiers garrisoned around the Kingpyre Tower were all mobilized by this army's movement.
"This is the Dreadfort's garrison area! What are you doing!"
"No further! If you advance any more, we will shoot!"
The Dreadfort officer threatened, but Martyn turned a deaf ear, simply ordering the Heavy Armored Battalion to assume combat formation.
His orders were to pin down the Dreadfort army at all costs.
Now both sides were in a standoff. If the other side dared to divert men for reinforcements, he would attack immediately.
Inside the Hall of the Hundred Hearths, the slaughter continued.
The men Roose Bolton kept by his side were elites indeed; Harrion had been unable to break through their defense line for some time.
Behind Jon, the Dreadfort soldiers guarding inside the tower had begun ramming the door.
Boom—Boom—Boom— The nearly two-century-old door groaned under the impact, with wood chips and dust falling continuously.
On Jon's side, Bolin led over ten men in a siege, trying to open the door, while the soldiers Harrion faced were personally commanded by Roose Bolton.
"Jon! Do you know what you are doing? This is mutiny! It's rebellion!" Roose Bolton shouted at Jon across the hall while commanding his soldiers, trying to break the morale of these "rebels."
But he saw a scene he would never forget: Jon discarded his chipped longsword, bent down, and grabbed the ankle of a Dreadfort soldier's corpse—body and armor weighing a good two hundred pounds. With a burst of power from his waist and core, he swung the heavy corpse like a windmill!
The "human hammer," a mixture of flesh and steel armor, whistled as it smashed into the enemy ranks. The cracking sound of breaking bones set teeth on edge. One soldier tried to block with his shield but was sent flying, shield and all, crashing into the wall and sliding down like a pile of mud.
In that moment, the blood drained from the faces of all Dreadfort soldiers witnessing this. This wasn't combat; it was a massacre. It was a giant from ancient legends trampling mortals.
Soon, he tore a gap through the encirclement, heading straight for Bolton's position!
Roose Bolton, standing anxiously on the throne, took all this in. Seeing Jon leave the door, he urged hurriedly:
"Quick! Go open the door!"
Unexpectedly, Jon rushed straight to Harrion and snatched the heavy armored greatsword from his hands.
Wielding the greatsword in one hand and dragging a corpse in the other, he charged.
Seeing this, the Dreadfort soldiers' legs went weak with fear, and Roose Bolton himself was so scared his tongue tied in knots.
In the next second, Jon broke through his defense line and placed the nearly man-sized greatsword against Roose Bolton's neck.
The soldiers who had been fighting fiercely stopped their actions resentfully, without anyone even needing to shout "Stop!"
At this moment, only the booming sound of the door being rammed echoed in everyone's ears.
Feeling the cold blade on his neck, Roose Bolton exclaimed, "Jon, let me go, and I won't tell Robb about this. Otherwise, if he finds out what you've done, you will definitely be sentenced to death!"
Worthy of the Leech Lord, even at such a juncture, Roose Bolton remained calm. This made Jon regard him a bit higher, but obviously, Bolton had miscalculated one thing.
Jon flourished his sword, a cold, mocking smile curling his lips as he stepped closer. "Lord Bolton, you seem to have forgotten where I came from. The Wall. I am a deserter from the Wall. I will have to go back sooner or later. But right now, anyone who dares stand in the way of my vengeance for my father is my enemy. Do you understand?!!"
When Jon said this, Roose Bolton finally lost his composure. He gritted his teeth and said, "Jon! You! You despicable bastard!"
With things developing to this point, he could only attack Jon's background.
He had calculated and plotted, but in the end, he didn't know how to calculate against someone like Jon who had no future.
Strip him of titles and lands? Sorry, I don't have any.
Death penalty? Sorry, I just came back from the Wall.
Looking at Jon, who was tough as old boots, and the bound and controlled vassal knights, Roose Bolton was completely out of options. He slumped weakly into his chair, losing all will to resist.
"Lord Bolton, hand your army over to me. You know my command ability, and you know my character. If you entrust them to me, I won't use them as meat shields or consumables. I really can't rest easy leaving my back to you, or I could just kill you here. You decide between these two choices." Jon looked at Roose Bolton with his grey eyes. In the end, Bolton chose his life.
"Open the door!" Jon said no more, ordering the door, still being rammed, to be opened.
After the door opened, the Dreadfort soldiers rushed in, only to see Roose Bolton already held hostage.
"Put down your weapons."
"My Lord." A Dreadfort knight seemed unwilling to accept the reality before him.
"Put them down. This little bastard won't hurt me," Roose Bolton said angrily.
Since they had torn off all pretenses, there was no more "My Lord this, My Lord that." He continued to order, "Tell our men outside to cease resistance."
"This—as you command."
Seeing the Dreadfort knight leave, Jon turned to Harrion and said, "Harrion, summon Earl Cerwyn and the others. Tell them I have business with them."
"Oh, right."
Soon, the Northern nobles at Harrenhal arrived at the Hall of the Hundred Hearths one after another.
Medger Cerwyn, arriving with the others, felt something was wrong as soon as he stepped into the hall.
Even before entering the Kingpyre Tower, seeing the Heavy Armored Battalion facing off against the Dreadfort soldiers outside made them realize something significant must have happened inside.
He sniffed the air; the smell of blood hadn't dissipated, and the oak door bore cracks from violent impacts.
Entering the hall, he saw something piled in the corner, covered with black tent canvas, but the fresh blood seeping out indicated fresh corpses.
Everything indicated a fierce conflict had just occurred here.
He looked ahead. The chair once sat in by Aegon the Conqueror, Jaehaerys I, Prince Daemon, and King Robert was now occupied by a young man.
Roose Bolton, the Commander-in-Chief of the "Eastern Army," stood aside, held hostage.
"Jon, this—" Medger Cerwyn realized what had happened but still had to ask.
"Sit, my lords." Jon didn't explain immediately but gestured to calm the Northern lords, including Vargo Hoat of the Brave Companions.
Everyone was uneasy, but under Jon's imposing aura, they chose to obey his will.
Medger Cerwyn felt the chair beneath him was cold, making him feel even less assured.
Previously, when they supported Jon, he declined repeatedly. Now that everyone didn't want to fight anymore, he resorted to such violent means to seize military power. It was truly hard to fathom what he was thinking.
Medger Cerwyn quietly observed the others and found the people from House Manderly and House Hornwood also looked vigilant.
At this moment, Jon cleared his throat and began: "My lords, Renly is dead. The Stormlands belong to Stannis. Soon, he will lead his army to attack King's Landing. I have received news that the sixty to seventy thousand troops of House Tyrell have formed a coalition with the Lannister army. Once Stannis fails, we will face over a hundred thousand troops from the South and the West. So I have decided to lead the army to the Crownlands and capture King's Landing together with Stannis! I sounded out your opinions before, and everyone seemed unwilling to continue fighting, so I had to resort to this strategy."
Jon's voice echoed slowly in the hall. The others tilted their heads, frowned, and scratched their ears, seemingly not expecting this possibility.
Lannister and Tyrell? In many people's eyes, the Tyrells should be on "their side."