Led by a woman with a rather short chin, Jon arrived at a side hall.
She most likely had Frey Family blood in her, or was perhaps Old Walder's granddaughter or even great-granddaughter.
Although Old Walder wanted to win Jon over, he also employed strategy.
What if Jon, feeling victorious, thought himself a person of importance and tried to bargain with him?
He intended to 'cash in' at the most opportune moment.
However, this side hall was not bad; the murals on the walls depicted the scenery of The Twins.
The bluestone slabs underfoot were clean and smooth.
After all, they were one of the wealthiest families in the Riverlands, so their generosity was exceptional.
Upon entering the side hall, Jon saw Old Walder and several of his children and grandchildren seated at the head of the table.
The combined age of these people was almost a thousand years.
'Quite a grand affair.' Seeing such a scene, Jon's heart grew wary.
He did not know Old Walder's intentions; compared to Old York, this older fox clearly hid his motives better.
Jon bowed to Old Walder and said:
"Jon Snow, the bastard son of Eddard Stark, greets Marquis Walder and wishes you eternal good health."
Seeing no hint of arrogance in Jon, and in fact, him being even more respectful and polite than on their first meeting, Old Walder was very pleased.
"Jon, I've heard all about your deeds.
You managed to turn the tide in a seemingly lost battle, and thanks to you, my useless children and grandchildren did not perish on the battlefield or become captives.
Truly remarkable; Duke Eddard can sleep with any woman and still get such an outstanding son.
If I were him, I would certainly grant you the Stark surname."
Seeing him suddenly begin to praise him, Jon grew even more wary, not understanding what this old fox was truly after.
His mind raced, using polite words to buy himself time to think.
"Marquis Walder, you flatter me. The Frey Family's descendants on the battlefield are second to none, and they are also good role models for me."
Seeing Jon's demeanor, the smile on Old Walder's face became even harder to hide. He put down his wine glass and turned to his children and grandchildren beside him, saying:
"Ha, look at him, he's truly Eddard's son. If it were any of you, your tails would be wagging to the sky by now!"
Old Walder's children and grandchildren showed expressions of deference, smiling and bowing their heads even lower.
"Jon, when the opportunity arises, I will propose to Winterfell, within my capabilities, that you be granted the Stark surname.
Robb goes without saying; your inheritance rights will still be after Bran and little Rickon, but with your military achievements, it won't be difficult to grant you a fiefdom and make you a noble."
Hearing Old Walder say this, Jon quickly bowed again.
"Th-thank you, Marquis, but this, this is not..."
Jon feigned being so excited that he was incoherent.
After all, there isn't a single bastard in Seven Kingdoms who doesn't wish to shed their bastard surname!
Although he still wasn't clear what he wanted, he at least had to act normal.
Seeing his reaction, Old Walder burst into laughter.
"You rascal, Old Marquis, I never do business at a loss. If I help you, how do you intend to thank me?"
"I am willing to fight your enemies for you, even if it means climbing mountains bristling with swords and sharp blades, or venturing into a sea of fire to seek treasures, I will not hesitate!" Jon declared, thumping his chest.
"Hahahahaha—"
Hearing Jon's promise, Old Walder laughed again.
"It doesn't have to be that troublesome," he said, straightening his expression. "Do you remember that day I said you could also choose one of the girls from The Twins to marry into the Frey Family?
That is my condition."
With that, Old Walder looked at Jon with burning eyes.
'Good heavens, your map of Yan is quite long.'
As soon as Old Walder finished speaking, he clapped his hands, and several girls, ranging from twenty-five to fifteen years old, emerged.
They varied in height, weight, and build.
They filed in, one after another, and came to Jon's side.
"Among them are my daughters and my granddaughters. You pick one,
and I will give you silver stags equivalent to the combined weight of you and your new bride."
Silver stags were the silver coins of Westeros, named for the stag pattern engraved on them.
Oh, this... Jon turned to look at the girls. To be honest, most of them were not very attractive.
The phrase 'get a new batch' almost slipped out.
It wasn't that they were ugly, but the Frey Family's'short chin' and 'watery eyes' genes were too strong.
This made some people who looked down on the Frey Family think they resembled weasels.
Jon dared not refuse immediately; he could only survey the girls while mentally calculating how to fob off this matter.
The Frey Family surely had pretty girls; with careful selection, he could definitely find one that was pleasing to the eye.
But in the near future, Robb might very well fail to control his passions, break his engagement, and anger Old Walder.
He would be caught in the middle, and it would be difficult to navigate.
Moreover, this wasn't just a matter of difficult navigation. After the Battle of Blackwater, Stannis was defeated at King's Landing, the North's momentum was lost, and Old Walder would then plan the Red Wedding.
Whether he would even be able to navigate then was another question.
Furthermore, Jon had greater ambitions and was unwilling to sell his 'original shares' at this time.
As Jon thought, he surveyed the girls with as much polite distance and gaze as possible.
Although Old Walder drank his wine, his brown eyes never left Jon.
And at this moment, Jon actually did spot a rather attractive girl.
Her face was fair, her chin small and delicate, and her chestnut hair was curly and cascaded to her waist, giving her a rather artistic air.
She seemed to feel Jon's gaze; her large brown eyes lifted, but then immediately darted away.
Compared to Old Walder's other daughters, this one appeared even more beautiful.
Old Walder also noticed Jon's interest in this girl.
In fact, this was also part of his test of Jon.
Among these girls, two were exceptionally plump, estimated to weigh at least one hundred seventy or eighty pounds.
This delicate girl might not even weigh half as much as them.
If Jon chose those 'heavy tanks,' it would at least indicate that he was a pragmatic person.
Firstly, plump women were considered good for childbearing, and Old Walder had also offered to give Jon silver stags equivalent to the combined weight of him and his bride.
But it seemed Jon was willing to forgo these two advantages for a good-looking one.
'Still a young man with a bit of a weakness for beauty, after all.'
Old Walder thought, and then a pot-bellied man beside him spoke:
"Her name is Roslin; she is my father's and Lady Rosby's only daughter."
Jon recalled his first time choosing a courtesan, how flustered and a little shy he was, and said:
"Mar-Marquis, her, her name is Roslin?"
Seeing Jon choose her, Roslin buried her head even lower.
"Hahaha, boy? You've taken a liking to her? She's the prettiest of all my daughters.
But you must think carefully; if Robb also takes a liking to her later, you'll have to give her up."
'Hey, you old scoundrel, you're too dishonest! Still trying to sow discord between us brothers?'
Jon muttered to himself.
He seemed to have realized Old Walder's entire plan.
Marrying his daughter to him was only part of the plan.
Jon and Robb had both proven their extraordinary military talent.
If Robb, who was a sucker for beauty, were to choose, he would most likely pick Roslin.
At that point, Jon would certainly be displeased.
Thus, there would be a rift between the two brothers.
Old Walder would then take the opportunity to compensate Jon as a means of winning him over, thereby gaining a loyal enforcer.
Truly an old fox; this was a series of stratagems!
However, in a flash, Jon thought of how to refuse.
Slap, slap—
Jon quickly took two steps back and forcefully slapped himself twice across the face.
Two red handprints immediately appeared on his pale face.
His action not only startled Roslin and the other girls in front of him, but even Old Walder was somewhat bewildered.
Jon turned and bowed deeply to Old Walder.
"Marquis, I understand your painstaking efforts. You must be testing whether my resolve to rescue my father is firm.
Now my father has been framed, yet I am here picking a bride for myself.
Just a little, just a little more, and I would have been no different from a beast."
Old Walder: Huh? Is that what I was thinking?
Jon turned to Roslin and said:
"Miss Roslin, I do like you very much, but you are the Marquis's legitimate daughter, and I am merely a bastard.
A few military achievements still cannot bridge the distance between you and me."
Jon's sincere demeanor moved Roslin somewhat.
"Marquis, if one day I truly can rescue my father, shed my bastard status, and ascend to the ranks of nobility, I will certainly come for Miss Roslin in a magnificent carriage."
Old Walder's smile was somewhat stiff; he truly couldn't understand how things had gone so awry.
It had almost succeeded, after all.
And the expressions of his children and grandchildren behind him also changed subtly.
Jon continued to ask:
"Marquis, I imagine King's Landing does not yet know of the alliance between The Twins and the North. Do you have any news regarding my father?"
Seeing Jon ask about Eddard's situation, he knew that today's plan had completely fallen through.
After all, to force a man to marry a wife immediately after his father's death was a bit too unseemly.
It was the Frey who had just introduced Roslin to Jon who spoke:
"Father, I forgot to tell you, Lord Eddard was executed by the false king Joffrey on charges of treason."
"What!" Old Walder feigned surprise, his peripheral vision, however, fixed on Jon. "You scoundrel! Why are you only telling me now?"
"Please punish me, Father."
The pot-bellied man immediately knelt before Old Walder.
Father and son performed their act.
"Ahhhhhhhhh—"
Jon suddenly let out a beast-like roar, and the girls around him recoiled several steps.
Jon strode out of the side hall, then cursed at the sky:
"Joffrey! I will cut off your head! I will skin you to make a rug, and I will eat your flesh!
Tywin! Old villain! Traitor! Scoundrel!
Re-bel!"
Jon's voice exploded like thunder at the doorway, and the Freys, as if infected by his sorrow and anger, all fell silent, not daring to speak.