[Chapter Size: 3700 Words.]
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Third Person POV
Tully Region, 300 AC.
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Several days had passed, and Jon found himself deeper within the Riverlands, alone at the moment, this being within the Tullys' own territory.
He had just arrived at a small village, pulling a cart. Disguised beneath a hood to hide the most striking features of his appearance: his eyes.
Only 2 days had passed since he left that chapel miles away, but he had managed to bypass both the Frey army and the Lannister army marching south, thanks to Caraxes.
He himself had left a letter saying he would return soon, landed in an area within the region, and managed to find some farming families, buying a horse with a few gold coins.
He wanted to see with his own eyes the result of the war where it had caused the most devastation, while also knowing that his ships remained anchored at sea, with part of them escorting those ironborn vessels to bring more former slaves from the island to the North.
In any case, his arrival was quickly noticed. As he approached the village entrance, there were Lannisters in their characteristic red garments, as any soldier from the Westerlands would wear.
They noticed him as well, approaching on horseback, appearing suspicious beneath his hood, and they also noticed the bastard sword at his waist, along with two others attached to the horse. After all, it was a much more fragile steel than the one he was accustomed to using. No matter how well he cared for it, it broke easily.
"Halt!" one of the guards shouted, stepping in front of Jon and preventing him from moving forward.
Jon stopped his horse near the man. The look of suspicion never left the guard's face, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he approached carefully, while subtly signaling with his eyes for his companion to be ready in case the rider attacked or tried to flee.
"Yes, soldier?" Jon asked casually.
"To pass through, it's two silver stags." Jon observed the man for a few seconds. It was obvious this was nothing more than extortion.
"Sir, I only have one stag. It was meant to feed my family..." he replied, feigning concern.
"Then turn around, peasant. You don't have permission to enter." The guard displayed an unpleasant smile.
"But perhaps we can negotiate... if you have a daughter."
The man's malicious smile vanished the next instant.
His head fell to the ground. It happened so quickly that for a moment, no one understood what had happened. There were three other guards at the entrance, who stared at their companion lying there, dead from a single movement.
Jon was fast, and the horse simply took a step forward in a swift advance while drawing the sword from its sheath at lightning speed came quite naturally to him. He moved quickly in a clean horizontal slash across the man's neck, sending his head to the ground along with the rest of his body.
Jon did not like the man's response. For a moment, he thought about his family. Unlike most people, he could protect them and even keep them safe on the other side of the continent.
Not everyone had the same tools and strengths that he possessed.
Not everyone could build a kingdom, and that made him think about the people being abused by men like these, even after everything they had suffered during the war. After all, villages like this one were among the few still standing; most had been destroyed.
Jon also put himself in the place of those poor wretches who could not care for and protect their families, of the young girls being raped, and it filled him with anger. So he killed the man without a second thought.
The other guards' eyes widened, their gazes shifting between Jon and the corpse of their fallen companion.
But that lasted only for the first two seconds, as they quickly roared in fury after what they had just witnessed.
"KILL THE SON OF A BITCH!" one of them shouted.
Jon was already moving. His horse surged forward at a speed far beyond any normal sprint, while Jon pulled out a knife and threw it at the archer who was preparing an arrow to shoot him.
He shot through the entrance like lightning, leaving another dead man behind who never even had time to react, the knife piercing straight through his heart. After all, Jon also possessed the skills of a trained assassin. Knife throwing was something he had mastered as well, despite it being quite different from his usual fighting style.
A soldier farther away ran into the middle of the road with his sword raised, but Jon leaned his body like a Dothraki warrior and, in addition to parrying the strike, made his blade slide along the man's weapon before cutting through the man's own throat.
The soldiers at the entrance stood stunned at the sight. Nothing like this existed in Westeros. After all, this was a Dothraki fighting style, something Jon had also trained in. Though the sword-slide strike Jon used was something he had created himself.
"Get the horses! Don't let him escape! Warn the other garrison!" the men began shouting as Jon rode through the center of the village, drawing attention.
The villagers immediately emerged from their homes, staring in surprise into the street before a horse raced past them like lightning. The people jumped in fright as they watched the rider's back disappear, and shortly afterward, more horses carrying soldiers from the Westerlands thundered after the fugitive.
"Stop him! Stop him!" the soldiers behind Jon shouted as he rode toward the far end of the village.
Jon saw the men reacting to the chaos, grabbing arrows. He quickly pulled out a bow hidden on the side of his horse along with several arrows. The soldiers watched as Jon rose up onto the horse, standing atop it with ease before bringing an arrow to the bowstring and beginning to aim.
They could only stare in disbelief, having never seen anything like it before, as Jon aimed and released the arrow, already nocking a second arrow in the very same instant and sending it toward the second Lannister archer.
The arrow struck the first man in the neck as he fell to the ground dying, while the second hit him in the head, each shot perfectly lethal.
Someone still tried to stop him. Jon let his body drop, twisting himself and leaning alongside the horse for the second time, and confronted the man. Jon's sword passed through the arm of the man who had tried to strike his horse, but Jon was faster, with the horse leaning to the side as well.
"AHHHHHHH!"
The man fell screaming as he stared at his severed limb lying on the ground.
The entire village watched the scene as Jon rode out of the settlement, taking the road south while three more Lannister horsemen pursued him, all of them disappearing down the road and into the forest.
No one in the village could believe what they had witnessed.
Inside the forest, he returned to using his bow. As he rounded a bend, the pursuers were caught by surprise while Jon stood atop his galloping horse without falling and aimed his arrow.
The shots were lethal, striking the men's necks and faces where their armor left openings.
Jon killed all three horsemen with ease before riding a little farther.
Then he stopped, unable to hide a smile.
He could have remained angry, but now he was happy for having killed those bastards.
'Next time, I have to kill them all... In any case, they won't sit still. A group should come hunting me, so let's wait a little...' Jon decided.
About an hour later, he heard the sound of horses approaching along the road leading from the village. His horse stood beside him while he remained there calmly in the middle of that place. By now, they should have already found the bodies of their companions and the loose horses.
It was easy to identify them before they even came close. He had eyes in the sky and had already seen the twenty mounted men leaving the village with blood in their eyes and promises of retaliation for what he had done.
Jon took up his sword and silently watched the road as the first horses came into view.
It was one man with a bastard sword against twenty...
It should have been a desperate situation, but Jon maintained a calm gaze through his green eyes as he watched those horsemen approach.
"Lancelot would go bald if he saw me here..." Jon hummed.
"It's him! Kill that son of a bitch!" one of them shouted, raising his sword.
When they reached his position, he closed his eyes. His consciousness swept over the horses.
It was as simple as breathing.
Years ago, when he controlled a dozen bandits' horses in Icehill, the effort had nearly killed him. Now it was different.
His power had grown countless times over, and the horses went mad at the same instant.
Some reared up, while others simply threw themselves onto the ground.
The riders did not even understand what was happening. One moment they were charging forward with full force; the next, they lost all support, and all that awaited them was the hard ground.
Twelve men died instantly when the fall broke their necks.
The remaining eight survived only to suffer horribly.
Arms bent at impossible angles, legs crushed, and countless broken ribs.
The screams began in shock, but soon echoed through the area in agony.
Jon stood there, watching all that chaos. The men, despite their pain, turned toward him, while the horses got back up, trampling over dead bodies and even the wounded before moving away.
Jon approached, a smile appearing on his face.
"Don't come near, you demon!"
"By the Seven, what did you do?!"
The men looked at him with pure terror. It had not been a trap with wires stretched across the road; the horses had collapsed because of some kind of magic.
Jon ignored their questions. First, he looked at the horses gathered in the distance, some with broken legs. It was obvious that several of them had been injured during the fall.
He intended to heal them, but first he needed to deal with the soldiers.
Through the memories of those horses, Jon had already seen everything.
Where the camp they came from was located.
The villages that had been looted.
The women who had been violated.
The peasants who had been murdered.
There was nothing to ask. Without saying a word, Jon advanced with his ordinary steel sword in hand. Everyone noticed as he removed his hood and slowly walked forward.
Some tried to flee before being struck by kicks from the very horses they had ridden. Others could not even stand, looking at Jon in fear while grabbing their swords and pointing them at him as a threat. It was the only thing preventing Jon from continuing his slow approach.
It did not delay him.
He stepped on the first man's sword as the soldier tried to push him back, and with a single motion, leaning forward, he removed the first head.
Seeing that, and seeing how their companions had been attacked by their own horses, some charged at Jon, believing fighting was their only chance.
They met an unfortunate fate.
With only a few movements, Jon easily killed them as well.
And so he continued, taking heads one after another.
Soon silence returned to the road, now littered with twenty bodies.
Jon left the corpses where they lay.
He wanted the Lannisters to find that scene.
He wanted them to begin realizing that something was terribly wrong here and that someone was hunting them.
He went to the horses, healing every last one of them before returning to his own horse, which he refused to abandon. After all, it had cost him several gold coins.
"What should I do... Should I deal with that camp before I leave this place?" Jon thought for a while as he mounted his horse.
He made his decision.
He would head north again.
There was a Lannister camp nearby, no more than three kilometers away. After all, they were overseeing three villages in the region.
But not immediately.
The Lannisters would send more forces, and he wanted to attack at night. He observed the activity within their camp through a bird.
Three hours later, another group appeared on that road.
This time, it was fifty horsemen.
They had been sent to discover what had happened to the first group and why none of the twenty had returned.
To prevent them from stopping, he attacked before they could reach the other twenty bodies.
He hid and waited, repeating exactly the same process.
Without warning, galloping at full speed, the horses collapsed and more men were thrown to the ground.
Necks snapped. Cries of agony echoed through the area, while those fortunate enough to remain unharmed were caught by surprise by Jon or by a horse's kick. He killed both them and the crippled survivors.
Another fifty men were executed.
By a single man.
Seventy corpses were scattered across the road, and if anyone heard that a single man had done this, they would dismiss the possibility outright...
And that very man was Jon Arctic, the enemy king.
Jon now had about seventy-four horses after healing the last of the injured animals...
He had not even spent much magical energy. He felt perfectly fine.
So, mounted on his horse with seventy-three more following behind him, he headed in the direction from which the riders had come. He did not return to the village, however. Instead, he rode toward the enemy camp three kilometers away.
Along the way, Jon also came across a lion.
The beast was enormous and well-fed. There were plenty of corpses for it to feed on. And this animal was not native to a land of farmland, small forests, rivers, swamps, and rolling hills.
There was little doubt that the men themselves had brought it as a display of power and that it had escaped. Jon easily confirmed this through the creature's memories.
"You're going to help me kill Lannisters..." Jon said, amused by the irony.
It stood about 1.35 meters tall and weighed around three hundred kilograms.
A little larger than a common lion, Jon entered the creature's mind with ease and guided it toward him while also controlling the horses so they would not panic in fear.
The animal became docile immediately.
When they finally arrived near the camp, Jon left the lion hidden among the trees along with the horses.
It was already nightfall.
Meanwhile, he eliminated all the scouts and the outermost sentries.
There were at least another three hundred men there.
Jon watched scouts leaving after none of the men who had gone after him returned.
"Let's enjoy a good show," Jon said as he watched another group depart, though this time he did not interfere.
The shifts changed, and as soon as the new sentries approached that area, they were killed as well. If anyone noticed that something was wrong, Jon did not care.
But nothing happened until the scouts returned from the south.
"My lord! There are bodies scattered all over the road a short distance beyond that village! Seventy men have been killed, and there's no sign of their horses..." a soldier reported in alarm.
Jon had placed a rat nearby to listen to the conversation.
"What weapons killed them?" asked the man who appeared to be the captain, urgency clear in his voice.
"Lord... that's the strange part."
The messenger looked nervous.
"Most of them died after falling from their horses. Many had broken necks. The survivors had their arms and legs crushed. After that, they were killed by swords."
The captain frowned.
"By the gods... They set traps on the road!"
He immediately accused the unseen enemy upon hearing the report.
"What should we do, my lord?" asked the Lannister scout.
He remained silent for a few seconds.
"I want patrols at dawn. And no one rides out until we understand what happened. I'll also make sure to strengthen the camp's defenses... Whoever is behind this must be a large group..." the man began reasoning aloud.
After all, it could only be a noble house. Even if it were a vassal of the Tullys, they must be rebelling because of what was happening in the North...
Jon watched and listened to everything...
He thought for a moment, with the lion and the horses behind him...
"Should I use fire or ice?" Jon wondered, but there were certainly women in many of those tents, some there by choice, but others not.
"Then we'll freeze them..." Jon decided, trying to imagine how easily he could simply destroy those tents.
He had to act now because new guards were already arriving to reinforce the camp's perimeter, and they were beginning to find it strange that one of the men Jon had killed should have returned by now.
Jon saw four men approaching.
He turned toward the darkness of the forest and waited as four arrows of ice materialized in the air.
Then they fired, killing all four men as they reached the other bodies.
The arrows shot toward the men, who only heard a strange sound carried by the wind. Every one of them was pierced through the head.
Jon had greater control over magical projectiles than he did with a bow itself.
The next moment, they all collapsed to the ground.
There were no screams, only the sound of bodies hitting the earth, almost imperceptible to the camp ahead.
Jon watched with satisfaction as he began thinking about how he would deal with the rest.
Then he focused his gaze directly on the camp.
Raising one hand, his eyes began to glow even brighter.
A wind quickly began to form, circling the entire camp.
The campfires suddenly started going out one after another, while the temperature steadily dropped.
This frightened all the soldiers, who jumped in alarm as the flames disappeared and they suddenly found themselves surrounded only by darkness and cold.
The temperature had not been pleasant to begin with, since everyone felt cold at night unless they kept themselves warm.
Winter was coming.
Although the temperature had risen after the war against the dead, that did not mean the seasons would not change. It was already the threshold between summer and winter.
Sooner or later, winter would reach Westeros within a year at most.
Because of that, the weather was already naturally colder.
"What is this?!"
"Where is this cold coming from?!"
The soldiers began shouting.
Jon simply waited until he closed his hand, as though preparing something even greater.
The cold front transformed into a vast white mist, until it finally materialized into snow.
The next moment, a blizzard storm emerged. Like a hurricane of ice, it swept through the entire camp. The explosion of snow roared over the men, while the screams of the Lannister soldiers were immediately drowned out.
It was impossible to see anything inside the camp now, only the snow hurricane. They did not even know what had brought about their end.
Ironically, this could be said to be the same power that had carried him away from that camp as a child, throwing him into the middle of the wolf forest hundreds of kilometers away. Jon might not be able to throw people that far, but he could now create the same storms and shape them, as he was doing now, into a hurricane.
The storm vanished as quickly as it had appeared, with Jon simply canceling the spell.
When the snow settled, soldiers were scattered across the ground, tents had been thrown in every direction, and everything was in chaos, with cries of agony and pleas for help... All of them were covered in ice, trembling, still unable to understand where all that snow had come from.
None of them could even stand up.
Jon approached with his sword. The first thing he did was search for the women who had been taken to the camp. He entered the tents and found them all surrounded by snow as well. Jon used fire magic to warm them and prevent them from freezing to death, healed their fractures with the wind carrying everything away, then pointed toward the exit.
"Get dressed and leave this place immediately."
None of them disobeyed.
The women ran away from the camp, looking at Jon with fear but asking no further questions. Only after the last one disappeared into the darkness did he turn his attention back to the soldiers.
Frozen men begged for help.
Jon did not care.
He also gathered all the horses, warming the animals so they would not freeze to death and adding them to the others he had already captured. He had more than two hundred of them now...
Only after that did he turn his attention back to the camp.
He raised his palm once more, pointing it toward the men scattered across the ground.
Then he unleashed another torrent of cold.
This time there was no blizzard, only a freezing wave.
A frigid front that continued torturing those men until their bodies could endure no more. One by one, the screams faded until they disappeared completely.
Thus, Jon wiped out another camp, three hundred men.
No survivors.
He stared at the bodies for a few seconds before returning to his horse. He already had a new objective. He was very interested in finding that corpse woman.
That was exactly why he had not brought Arya with him. He did not want his cousin to see her own mother in that state.
But at the same time, he wanted to finally face that woman after so many years. If she could still be called Catelyn Stark after everything that had happened, after everything she had become.
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