The sunlight bathed the battlements of Darry City, as well as the banners of House Darry's farmers and Jon's white wolf banner.
A small boy, both reserved and excited, led a black-haired, grey-eyed youth through his family's castle.
Several times he tried to take Jon's hand, but quickly withdrew it just as he was about to grasp it.
Ever since Jon rescued Darry City from the Mountain's men, Lyman's admiration for Jon had risen another notch; he had originally believed Robb, who defeated the Kingslayer, was the strongest.
He had not personally witnessed Robb's strength, nor had he experienced it firsthand.
But Jon defeating the Mountain was something he had seen with his own eyes from the city walls through a telescope; the two were completely different.
Suddenly, Lyman seemed to remember something and said to Jon, "Jon, let me take you somewhere. There are many interesting portraits there."
"Portraits? Whose portraits?"
"Come with me and you'll see."
Lyman acted mysterious, leading Jon to a sunny corridor.
"Look!" Lyman pointed at the portraits and said, "These are all portraits of Targaryen kings! Our family has always preserved them."
Jon's heart skipped a beat, thinking, 'Is this something I should be seeing?'
Just as he was about to find an excuse to leave with Lyman, pretending not to have seen anything, a flustered figure burst into his sight.
Mond River.
Mond looked at Jon, who was already standing with Lyman in the corridor, and most of the color had drained from his face.
The Stag, the Falcon, the Wolf, the Fish – these four were the main forces that overthrew the Targaryen dynasty! As 'half a Stark,' wasn't Lyman showing Jon this just asking for trouble?
Jon looked at the panicked Mond and understood what he was worried about.
He thought that this matter needed to be resolved today.
He pondered for a moment and then said, "Sir Lyman is taking me to see these Targaryen portraits."
Mond swallowed hard, thinking, 'Of course I know.' He looked at Jon's iconic Stark grey eyes, then recalled his powerful martial prowess in slaying the Mountain, and the muscles in his thighs stiffened like stone.
Although Jon had only spoken a simple declarative sentence, it sounded like a threat in his ears.
Jon continued, "I've admired the Young Dragon Daeron since I was little, hoping to achieve deeds like his. There should be a portrait of the Young Dragon among these, right?"
"Yes, Jon, there is!" Lyman excitedly introduced, "The Young Dragon was the son of Aegon the Dragonbane. He conquered Dorne, accomplishing a feat that all previous Dragon Kings had failed to achieve!"
Lyman's words were full of praise for the Targaryens, even respectfully calling them 'Dragon Kings.' In Mond's eyes, this was practically dancing on Jon's 'minefield.'
And so, under Mond's gaze, the two began to view the portraits of the Targaryen kings.
"These are all Targaryen kings, but Rhaegar isn't. Back then, we all thought Rhaegar would become king eventually, who knew..."
'Please, don't say any more.' Mond followed behind Jon and Lyman, praying incessantly in his heart.
Jon looked at Rhaegar's portrait. As a pure Targaryen, he was indeed exceptionally handsome, but thinking of the absurd things he had done, Jon shook his head slightly.
As a married man, to show affection to someone else's fiancée and then abduct her—that was somewhat 'unbecoming of a lord.'
Jon's prolonged stop in front of Rhaegar's portrait, however, terrified Mond, who thought he was planning something notorious.
Just then, Lyman suddenly said, "Brother Jon, I don't know why, but I feel you resemble Prince Rhaegar a bit."
"Oh?" Jon looked at Lyman, then at the portrait. At first glance, he couldn't really see anything, but upon closer inspection, he and Rhaegar did bear some resemblance in less conspicuous areas like their ears and eyebrows.
The main reason was that their hair was one black and one white, making it easy to overlook that slight similarity.
Mond, however, could no longer bear it and suppressed his voice, scolding in a low tone.
"Lyman!"
Jon glanced at Mond, finding him and Martin to be almost two extremes.
Martin was more reckless but more driven, while Mond's thoughts were more delicate.
Today, he had to find a way to alleviate this worry. Jon turned to Lyman and said, "You just called me Brother Jon. I am a bastard, and you are an Earl. This is not in accordance with etiquette."
"What does it matter?" Lyman said carelessly, "Martin and the others all say that your meritorious deeds are outstanding, and you will become a noble sooner or later. You also saved my life, so I should call you Brother Jon."
Jon smiled and nodded, "Good, since you call me big brother, then I'll look out for you from now on. If there's any enemy in the future that you can't handle, just come directly to me!"
Receiving Jon's assurance, Lyman nodded vigorously with joy.
At the same time, Jon gave Mond a meaningful nod.
His promise to Lyman was also to reassure this fellow, indicating that he completely didn't care about such things.
"They're just portraits. The Targaryens are a thing of the past," Jon whispered beside Mond.
Hearing Jon say this, his frantic heart finally settled down.
After about half a month, Darry City's food supply was almost completely depleted.
Jon's army was also largely reorganized. With the addition of House Darry, the command system was indeed much smoother.
The army's combat effectiveness also increased significantly.
The number of 'direct subordinates' directly commanded by Jon had now slowly approached four thousand.
This was already a number exceeding the soldiers of Dreadfort.
Coupled with Jon's personal prestige in the army, Roose Bolton, who had already received the news, was now on tenterhooks.
When he learned that Jon had not only saved Darry City from the Mountain but also completely annihilated the Mountain's army, he seemed somewhat dazed.
From the beginning of the war until now, every decision Jon made was correct.
And he, despite being praised as 'experienced in warfare' before the war, ultimately, the battlefield depended on results. Battle reports could lie, but the front lines would not, and people's hearts would not.
Roose Bolton could feel that his power was further slipping away.
"My Lord, perhaps we could consider attacking Harrenhal!" a vassal of House Bolton said.
"Harrenhal?"
"Yes, Tywin's supply lines have now been cut off by His Majesty. He will inevitably choose to move west next, which would leave Harrenhal empty. Isn't that a good opportunity for us to reclaim lost territory?"
Roose Bolton thought about it and concluded that this seemed to be the only option.
To regain some of his prestige as the commander of the 'Eastern Army,' capturing Harrenhal was an excellent choice.
With Harrenhal, the nearly twenty thousand strong army under his command would have a defensive position and a base of operations to rely on.