While Jon and Cersei were engaged in their battle of wits, a raven flew across the night sky and landed in a tower of Winterfell.
Although the night was deep, Maester Luwin had not yet slept.
For some time now, he had been busy brewing various potions and elixirs, trying to wake the sleeping Bran.
Apart from this, the old Maester temporarily acted as the steward, busy tallying the expenses of hosting the King and raising funds to cover the deficit.
It could be said that in the two weeks since Duke Eddard left, the Maester was the backbone of Winterfell.
As for Lady Catelyn, apart from praying to the Seven all day, she ignored everything else.
Of course, Robb was also shouldering the responsibilities of the Lord, but for a sixteen-year-old young man, the complex administrative affairs were simply torture.
Therefore, it wasn't until the raven hopped onto the desk that Luwin wearily came back to his senses and gently held it in his arms.
After checking the bird's leg ring, he quickly discovered that this messenger clearly came from the King's convoy. It was one of the birds he had entrusted to the accompanying Maester before the Duke's departure.
Seeing this, Maester Luwin felt a wave of inexplicable worry. Fortunately, age had taken away his youth but endowed the old man with composure.
But when he unfolded the scroll, the content made the Maester stand up abruptly.
...
Unlike Jon, who was heading South, Tyrion, after a long journey North, finally arrived at the destination he had been thinking about.
A sheer cliff made of ice pierced straight into the lead-gray sky. Standing at its foot, a person felt as tiny as an ant on the snow.
Even if the dwarf tilted his head back to the limit, his sight could hardly reach its peak—the dwarf's gaze climbed up the despairing ice wall, only to see the massive body of ice disappear into the low-hanging, snow-laden clouds, as if this wall itself was supporting the sky.
As for its length, it was a predicament in another sense.
Standing under the Wall, you would feel like you were standing on the edge of an infinitely long, cold, silent wound, where the world was hideously split open.
Along the base of the Wall, the fortresses of the Night's Watch were scattered: Castle Black, the Shadow Tower, Eastwatch-by-the-Sea...
These fortresses built of black basalt appeared so small and fragile against the incomparable grandeur of the ice wall, like a few pebbles scattered at the feet of a giant beast.
As a mournful horn sounded, the dilapidated gate opened for the Lannister. Rather than welcoming him, it was more like it was swallowing Tyrion.
When the group stepped through the gate and cast their eyes on this legendary castle, the dwarf, who had held great expectations, felt somewhat disappointed at this moment.
Dilapidation, decay, and silent despair, together with Castle Black, constructed the colors of the world's edge, shattering all expectations instantly.
Apart from this forgotten city, even the men in black inside were completely different from Benjen Stark, who had accompanied them all the way.
Rather than calling them the Night's Watch, it might be more appropriate to call these old, weak, sick, and disabled men wrapped in tattered black felt "bandits" or "beggars."
The contrast was so huge that Tyrion instantly wanted to turn around and leave.
But thinking of the hardships of the journey, especially the ubiquitous wildlings and beasts, the dwarf had to stop temporarily and turn to look at the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch walking toward him.
"Lord Commander Mormont, regarding the magnificence of the Wall, our brothers in black really kept their mouths shut..."
"Aha, Lord Tyrion, no need for formalities. It's rare to have a distinguished guest. I happen to have a favor to ask."
...
Since that night, the treatment Jon enjoyed had improved significantly. The wealth of the Lannisters made Snow from the North marvel.
If the treatment he enjoyed in his second life had already satisfied Jon, then the current enjoyment was simply beyond the transmigrator's imagination of how luxurious the lives of Westeros's top nobles were.
It could be said that apart from technology and entertainment not being satisfied, the current Jon had everything he could wish for.
Frost sugar from Essos, silk underwear, and glassware greatly enriched the transmigrator's living standards.
Croissants from the Reach, Highgarden cheese, and rose essential oil also made Snow feel a long-lost comfort.
Exquisite Dornish carpets and woolen tents, along with Arbor wine, paired with the legends of Westeros gifted by Tyrion, completely filled Jon's spiritual void.
It could be said that the transmigrator's life was gradually getting on track.
As long as he didn't court death, presumably after entering King's Landing, everything would be even more extravagant.
Of course, this premise must be based on stability, especially on the premise that the Lannisters didn't stir up trouble.
Fortunately, after learning of the King's thoughts, Cersei had completely relaxed, seemingly looking forward to Jaime taking office early.
As for the vacant position, someone would always fill it.
Thinking of this, Jon sat up somewhat wearily, slowly closed the thick book, and then walked out of the tent.
Now, the main force had left Winterfell for more than two weeks. After crossing the Trident, they were resting at the Inn at the Crossroads (also known as the kneeling man inn area).
Although Robert had complained more than once that the Queen's damn carriage delayed the journey and suggested to Ned to go ahead.
As long as they rode horses along the Kingsroad, they could reach King's Landing in less than a week, instead of stopping and starting, eating dust and getting rained on in the wild.
But for safety reasons, Ned still rejected this idea and left enough time for the guards to rest.
Although men made up the vast majority here, the female relatives could no longer continue the long trek, including Sansa, Princess Myrcella, and Joffrey.
However, as the party concerned, His Royal Highness the Crown Prince felt humiliated by the special care. Although his thighs had been chafed by the saddle, Joffrey insisted on not taking the carriage to maintain his last dignity.
But this fig leaf was completely torn off by the idle guards and squires after the main force stationed at the Inn at the Crossroads.
Just like now, the outermost part of the camp where Jon was located was the activity area for these people.
Drinking cheap ale by the bright bonfire, everyone's jokes revolved around the noble Prince Joffrey.
"Let's raise a toast to thank His Royal Highness the Crown Prince."
"That's right, thank the Crown Prince for his mercy, allowing us to rest in this wilderness!"
"It's really great. Even the two little girls from the North are stronger than him, especially the one named Arya, who sneaks off to ride a horse whenever she has time."
Hearing these people teasing Joffrey, Jon naturally understood why they were complaining.
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