Almost everyone cast glances filled with more jealousy than envy, wishing they could tear this damned bastard to shreds.
Jon, the instigator, took in all these looks of envy, jealousy, and hatred.
However, he played his part perfectly, showing a mix of wild joy and nervousness, while internally, he was screaming in agony.
He had thought that once the Usurper achieved his goal, the King would return to King's Landing, and Jon could head North to slack off and avoid danger.
But who would have thought that Robert, this madman, actually wanted him to go South with them?
Any other bastard, facing such an honor, would have thrown themselves at the King's feet to lick his boots in loyalty.
But for the transmigrator, this was a death sentence. It meant he would have to keep tangling with Cersei.
Although Jon had prepared countless scripts in his head, he found it difficult to cope with such a sudden change in the situation.
After all, even Lord Eddard, when faced with the invitation, had no choice but to obediently bring his children South as hostages.
So how could Jon Snow possibly refuse?
Acting on instinct, he subconsciously turned his gaze to Lord Eddard...
And to Queen Cersei, who was standing not far away!
[Bingo! That's right. Facing life's challenges head-on is your only way out. Also, I advise you to stay away from that woman. Your current age can't handle it...]
The voice ringing out at the worst possible time wasn't just the murmurs of the noble onlookers, but also the cowardly System in his head that shrank back at the first sign of difficulty.
Although this advice seemed helpful, to the transmigrator, it was as useful as a fart.
Right now, he knew better than anyone that getting entangled with Cersei would only bring endless madness and corruption.
But shifting his gaze back and forth right now would not only reveal his nervousness but also attract unwanted attention.
However, what he didn't expect was that when his eyes met Cersei's, there was something... strange in her gaze.
Seeing this peculiar look, Jon vaguely recalled a certain plot point...
But living two lives had blurred his memories, so he could only shake his head and toss the strange thought aside.
After that, no one paid any more attention to the newly appointed King's squire.
The big shots dispersed one by one. Robert and Eddard, in particular, were inseparable, seemingly discussing the return journey.
Seeing this, Jon didn't know if he should pack his bags or just grab a bucket and run for it.
Just as he stood dazed in the training yard, a large hand slammed onto his shoulder.
Immediately after, a fist the size of a sandbag appeared in his peripheral vision, sending the transmigrator spinning through the air and landing far away.
When Jon climbed up from the ground, even with the protection of the heavy helmet, his head was buzzing.
Just from that punch, Snow could roughly estimate the exaggerated strength gap between him and the Hound.
If one were to rank the living knights of Westeros, then below Robert would be the Mountain.
Leaving aside pure brute strength, the late Sword of the Morning might have securely held third place.
The ranking after that might be chaotic, but the Hound would definitely make the top five no matter what.
So, in summary, if the Hound were put into the System, his Strength and Constitution would have to be several times Jon's own.
Jon wasn't sure why such calculations flashed through his mind.
But when he climbed up, ready to fight back, he saw that the Hound had already taken off his helmet, revealing his scarred, terrifying face.
Despite his hideous appearance, Jon noticed that aside from annoyance, the man's eyes didn't show any intention of further action.
That punch just now was probably just venting his dissatisfaction at being toyed with. Clearly, he had accepted the fact that he had been bested by a little whelp.
Seeing this, Jon didn't step forward to offer peace. Instead, he silently spread his hands to show they were even.
Even though he knew this ugly warrior was perhaps one of the few remaining existences in Westeros who actually followed the knightly code.
Then, an abrupt voice came from the level of his waist.
"I must say, that was a splendid fight. Never mind the King, even I like you, Bastard!"
The lazy praise seemed to carry a hint of drunkenness, causing Jon to turn and look down until he saw the halfman at his waist level.
Jon naturally knew all about this Imp, famous throughout the Seven Kingdoms.
Throughout Game of Thrones, while this guy couldn't be called righteous, he was at least Lawful Evil.
Unlike some lunatics who only created chaos.
So, from any angle, there was no reason to make an enemy of him.
However, to return the favor for the "Bastard" comment, Jon felt it necessary to state his position.
After that, Snow raised a hand to shade his eyes, looking around in exaggerated confusion.
"Strange? Who's there?"
In front of him, Tyrion Lannister let out a snort of laughter at the sight.
If their eyes hadn't met earlier, perhaps the Imp would have just taken Jon for a dull-witted fool.
But with that premise, the boy's current performance was full of theatricality.
Even though the comedic effect was at his own expense.
But such deliberately obvious acting wasn't like the genuine mockery of others.
Therefore, the well-read Tyrion immediately had a strange feeling: the person in front of him seemed to understand him.
So, the halfman lazily warned the bastard in return.
"Well, I must remind you to watch your rear."
"After all, I can only reach here..."
After saying this, even the straight-faced Tyrion couldn't help but laugh, and Jon joined in the laughter.
Then, the two looked at each other solemnly.
"Tyrion Lannister. Please forgive my rudeness, Bastard!"
"Jon Snow. Pleased to meet you, Halfman!"
Even in their formal introductions, neither forgot to mock the other, poking directly at their respective sore spots.
This behavior, bordering on that of frenemies, instantly closed the distance between them.
Then, one tall and one short, one big and one small hand shook together, witnessing the start of a great friendship.
After the laughter, Tyrion was the first to speak.
"Lord Jon, I must express my regret. It looks like you won't be able to serve at Castle Black and protect all of Westeros for the time being."
As he said this, the Imp looked pointedly at the castle wall, where Eddard and Robert were deep in conversation.
The meaning behind that look naturally stemmed from the Usurper's earlier remark.
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