Eddard and Jon escorted Arya back to her room, and only after watching her climb into bed did they close the door and turn away.
"Jon, come take a walk with me."
As they walked down the corridor, Eddard Stark suddenly spoke to his 'bastard son'.
At those words, Jon grew slightly tense for reasons he could not explain.
He couldn't remember ever spending time with his father like this.
This felt more like a conversation between men.
"Y—yes, Father."
Seeing Jon's nervousness, Eddard patted him on the shoulder.
"You're almost of age now, aren't you? I hadn't expected you to become a knight so quickly—it only took you a few months."
Speaking of this, Eddard couldn't help but feel a wave of emotion.
Back in Winterfell, Benjen had once told him that Jon wanted to go to the Wall and become a man of the Night's Watch—who would have thought that in the blink of an eye, he would be chosen by Kal Stone.
Although Eddard understood that Kal Stone had accepted Jon as his squire partly out of a sense of returning a favor, it was still a debt of gratitude he owed.
For members of House Stark, joining the Night's Watch was also an honorable path, but as a father, of course he hoped Jon could live a better life.
"Yes, Father," Jon answered softly, head lowered.
The two walked along the corridor of the Tower of the Hand, the torches set into the stone walls crackling as they burned.
Jon kept his head down, following step by step behind his father.
After he finished speaking, silence fell between them once more.
It wasn't until they came to a section of the outer wall, leaning against the thick stone parapet, that both of them looked out over King's Landing's night view.
"What are your plans next? Do you want to return to the North? You can choose a place you like, build a castle there, and continue your own line."
Running his hand along the rough stone railing, feeling the coolness of the night breeze that had finally arrived, Eddard Stark felt a rare moment of ease.
Then he remembered Jon's circumstances and asked with concern, "Or has Ser Kal granted you a piece of land? And have you decided what family name you'll take for yourself?"
"Now that you've been knighted, and I just heard you telling Arya that you also wish to enter the tourney, if you plan to compete, it would be best to choose a proper surname and design a sigil for yourself."
"You could use the direwolf, or something else—just like the Karstarks did."
To tell the truth, Eddard truly hoped Jon would return to the North.
Whether or not he would one day stand among the Starks as Robb's loyal right hand, at the very least, in the North, Eddard could still look after him—and help him.
As the Lord of the North, with such vast lands under his rule, he could grant Jon a fine piece of territory at any time.
Although Jon was Kal Stone's squire and had been knighted by him, if Kal had any plans for Jon, Eddard would not interfere—for he knew that after taking over the Westerlands, Kal still had many matters to deal with.
At the very least, he needed loyal men to aid him.
Jon would be a suitable choice.
Hearing his father's question, and sensing this rare concern from him, Jon felt an overwhelming warmth in his heart.
It seemed he had never before experienced such care. And today, even Lady Catelyn had not once mocked or sneered at him.
Though she still ignored him, that alone was already great progress.
"I haven't thought about what surname to take yet—" Jon scratched his head. "But Lord Kal did, in fact, make some arrangements for me."
"Oh? Is that so? Which castle does he intend to grant you?"
So many things had happened in the Westerlands this time. Though the Iron Throne no longer pursued their accountability, that did not change the fact that several families of the Westerlands had been utterly destroyed in the war, unable to continue their lines.
Among them were, but not limited to, landed knightly houses such as House Clegane and House Loch.
Even among the noble houses, there were those like House Prester of Feastfires, House Kenning of Kayce, and House Farman of Faircastle—all of whom had suffered retaliatory massacres and plundering by the Iron Islands.
If Kal wished, he could fill those vacancies as he pleased—either by placing his own men in their stead, or by supporting collateral branches of those houses, granting them favor and making them swear allegiance to him.
Compared to the North, the wealth of the Westerlands was indeed vast.
However, in response to Eddard's question, Jon shook his head.
"No, Lord Kal hasn't spoken to me about that matter yet."
"But this morning, he specifically sent someone to find me and discuss something—it concerns my own future arrangement."
When speaking of this, Jon's face was filled with joy. Thinking of what had happened that morning, he regarded it as a good thing.
Eddard Stark's curiosity was also stirred. "What is it?"
"Lord Kal wants me to become the commander of the City Watch. He said that whether by merit or by any other measure, I am qualified to be the commander of the Gold Cloaks."
"And the King will need me—just as you do, Father."
Jon was delighted at his own progress, and even happier that he could be of help.
However, upon hearing Jon's words, Eddard's expression instantly stiffened.
Jon's answer unconsciously brought back the topic Arya had mentioned earlier.
The scent of blood and roses seemed to linger endlessly beneath his nose.
Looking at Jon's face—a face that so perfectly bore the Stark features—Eddard Stark's smile gradually faded away.
Jon noticed this and looked at him in confusion.
But Eddard seemed almost afraid to meet Jon's eyes. He turned his head toward the distant nightscape, the darkness concealing countless secrets.
"No, Jon. I want you to refuse him. The post of commander of the City Watch is not suitable for you." He drew in a deep breath, then slowly exhaled the words.
Before Jon could even ask why, Eddard immediately added, "And if possible, you should leave King's Landing. It would be best if you avoided living here from now on."
Jon had thought his father would be pleased to hear such news, yet the Hand of the King was the very first person to deny it outright.
For a moment, Jon's face was full of confusion.
He did not understand why his father would reject the offer—or even wish to send him away, forbidding him to remain in King's Landing.
"Why—" Jon's throat was dry. "If it's because Lady Catelyn dislikes me, I can make sure not to see her."
"Father, I want to stay with you—and with Arya and the others…"
Jon's voice unconsciously carried a note of pleading. He thought it was his birth that made his father unwilling to keep him close.
Hearing the faint tremor of tears in that voice, Eddard felt a wave of pain in his heart.
He should have thought of this long ago—not only when Arya mentioned it today.
Yet even faced with Jon's plea, Eddard still shook his head.
He closed his eyes, his fists clenching tightly, his fingers digging into the rough grit of the stone beneath them.
Time passed, moment by moment, as Jon continued to look at him, eyes filled with silent entreaty.
Perhaps feeling that gaze beside him, Eddard finally seemed to come to a decision.
He took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and tried to steady his tone.
"Jon, I remember that when you rode to war with Kal, I told you that if you could become a knight, I would tell you who your mother was."
"I think… now may be the time."
Gazing at the night view of King's Landing, Eddard Stark felt the once-cool night wind turn cold against his skin.
...
"Get up, dwarf. Today we need to forge a suit of armor that will make me the most dazzling and handsome man in all of King's Landing—and along the way, we'll drop by to see one of my little friends."
Early in the morning, Lord Kal El, brimming with energy, dragged the still-hungover Tyrion Lannister out of bed.
After having someone quickly clean up the dwarf, the two set out together.
Kal's beloved horse Fawkes was already saddled, waiting for him in the courtyard, held by Samwell Tarly.
Ever since Jon Snow became a knight, this job had somehow fallen to him.
The one-eyed Timett, Chella, and Shagga—the trio of mountain clansmen—were also part of the group.
Kal had deliberately called them along as well, planning to have armor forged for each of them so they could all take part in the upcoming tourney.
After all, he intended to make this grand event lively and splendid, to solidify certain foundations and a broader reputation for himself.
Even Bronn was among the party. Though still a sellsword, he had indeed made no small contribution during the Battle for King's Landing.
Kal thought that if things went well, he could keep him by his side, and once Bronn had earned enough merit, arrange a noble title for him in the Westerlands.
And facing the Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West, Bronn wisely made no mention of leaving.
He knew that under Kal, he might finally obtain the opportunity he had long dreamed of.
As for people like Hall and Kossi, they had long since forged their own suits.
As Kal's earliest followers, he had never treated them unfairly.
And as participants in the war between the Iron Throne and House Lannister of the Westerlands, their pockets were already overflowing with gold dragons.
Each one of them was filthy rich.
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