Jon, who wasn't particularly tall, was surrounded by a group of white-haired veterans.
Looking around, there were quite a few of them.
About six or seven hundred people.
"My Lord, we actually come from the mountain clans, from the mountains north of Queenscrown."
"Just south of the Wall."
The old soldier continued his story, and his'straight man' continued to chime in.
Jon, with the modern upbringing of respecting the elderly and cherishing the young, continued to listen.
"In those mountains, old folks like us have to go hunting every winter."
"And then we never come back."
"But our ancestors have always lived like this."
"It's our turn now."
Listening to their stories, Jon's expression was solemn.
With food scarcity, the elderly would leave food for their descendants.
In his original world, there was also the saying of 'living dead tombs'.
That is, when the elderly reached a certain age, they would be sealed in tombs, and their children would seal a brick each time they delivered a meal.
Jon had always regarded this custom as a story, never expecting this'story' to stand alive before him.
"Originally, when autumn came, old folks like us wouldn't have much time left, but Lord Stark called us, and we thought we could earn some military merits."
"And then exchange them for some food."
Jon quickly understood what they meant.
Although these old soldiers' physical reactions were already aging and weakening, their minds were still very sharp.
They knew that following Jon might earn them some military achievements, and at least they wouldn't be used as cannon fodder.
After all, if they died, they died, but they had brought a lot of food from home when they came out, about dozens of pounds.
If they didn't earn it back, they would lose money.
In other words, for just dozens of pounds of food, their lives could be bought.
"My Lord, take us in!"
"Take us in, my Lord!"
"Take us, take us!"
Jon was not yet sixteen this year, but he was surrounded by a group of fifty and sixty-year-old elders, pleading.
He couldn't be so hard-hearted.
"Alright, I understand what you mean, but Roose Bolton is the commander of the army, and I need to ask for his opinion," Jon said, raising his hand. "If Lord Bolton agrees, you can follow me from now on."
Seeing Jon say this, the old soldiers beamed with joy, revealing their broken, yellowed teeth.
Most of their teeth were severely worn.
After all, they didn't get to eat many soft, good things when they were young, so this was normal.
Soon, Jon left through the passage they made for him.
And the nobles who were still standing in place began to whisper.
"If it weren't for Jon today, we would either be captives or dead men. We absolutely cannot let Roose Bolton continue to give blind orders!" Meici Severn said.
"Exactly, that blood leech knows nothing. I think his brain has been sucked away by the blood leech. Jon's advice was so good! If we had followed Jon's advice earlier, we might have already captured Tywin and marched on King's Landing by now!" Harrion was relatively younger, and his words were more intense.
"When Bolton calls us for a meeting, we'll directly nominate Jon as our new commander at the assembly!"
"Right! Directly nominate him! I've long seen that Jon is the same kind of person as Lord Eddard."
"Exactly!"
Everyone spoke one after another, making it seem as if the title of Duke of Winterfell was about to be bestowed upon Jon.
However, among these people, only one person was relatively calm.
That was Howland Reed.
Even though it seemed Jon was being nominated and recommended, his position was not legitimate.
These nobles were actually openly defying their liege lord's orders.
He worried, what if Jon became their'scapegoat'?
From a bastard to the commander of the army.
He didn't think Jon, at such a young age, could resist such a temptation.
Perhaps he could remain clear-headed when facing scattered support, but if it gained momentum, it would be disastrous.
Thus, the only person who knew Jon's true identity spoke up to dissuade them:
"My Lords, I understand your feelings, but Jon is young after all, and Lord Bolton has more experience in battle. We should still trust Lord Bolton and follow Robb's orders."
"Ser Reed, weren't you saved by Jon?" a noble from the House Manderly retorted, his tone filled with questioning and coldness.
It was as if he had some grudge against Howland Reed.
Willis of the House Manderly had just died on the battlefield.
"Roose Bolton is a son of a bitch, he abandoned us!" Harrion said somewhat emotionally.
Howland Reed knew that these people had actually become estranged from Roose Bolton because of today's events.
In the future, Bolton would no longer trust them, and they would not carry out Bolton's orders.
But that also didn't mean they would necessarily do whatever Jon told them to do.
Jon's status was too low, and he had no reliable direct lineage to rely on.
Perhaps at first, the Northern lords would listen to him out of gratitude for saving their lives, but the war's duration was unknown, and what would happen later was uncertain.
Most importantly, how would Robb view it? Even if Robb could tolerate it, what about Catelyn?
But Howland Reed couldn't say such things in public.
He could only place his hopes on Jon.
He hoped he wouldn't be carried away by such'support'.
Meici Severn and Harrion allied with other minor nobles of lower rank, planning to jointly nominate Jon as the new commander.
What they didn't know was that Roose Bolton had spies everywhere in the army, and this group of people was so conspicuous that it was hard not to be noticed.
"Did that bastard refuse?"
"Yes," Roose Bolton's attendant said affirmatively.
But he quickly sneered:
"This boy, he certainly won't... He knows how much trouble he caused me today, and he wants the fire to burn even bigger."
But no matter what, Jon's stance had no flaws.
Now he had to figure out how to handle the upcoming meeting.
After just fighting a battle, a summary meeting was essential.
Although the people of Westeros didn't have the concept of'summary,' what they did was pretty much the same thing.
At the very least, they had to talk about who fought well and who fought poorly, and hand out rewards and punishments.
Undoubtedly, Jon was the one who fought best today.
If it weren't for him diverting the water to block them, plus that miraculous counterattack, the Northern Army would have lost at least half its men.
Such a meritorious deed, even if he weren't Eddard's bastard, would be enough to elevate him from commoner to noble.
After this battle, Jon would at least gain a good fiefdom.
Even Eddard might legitimize him; even if he couldn't bear the Stark name, something like 'White Stark,' like the House Karstark, wouldn't be impossible.
After all, the Starks had a now-extinct branch called the 'Grey Starks.'
Temporarily banishing these idle thoughts, Roose Bolton ordered his men to announce today's post-battle meeting.
Soon, the nobles in the camp who were qualified to attend arrived in the tent.
However, compared to before the battle, the space in the tent was much more open.
For example, the fallen Willis Mandele.
His biggest impression before was his obesity.
Now that he was dead, one person freed up the space of three.
Soon, Roose Bolton, the commander, also arrived.
As soon as he entered, he felt the unfriendly gazes of the others.
Disdain, coldness, even hatred.
Although everyone was from the North, it was just a temporarily assembled army.
Even with their own liege lord, if opinions differed, they would simply leave, let alone with Roose Bolton, a man with little popularity or prestige.
But Roose Bolton ignored all of this, sitting down at the head of the table.
He scanned the room and noticed Jon's absence.
Just as he was about to speak, Jon walked in.
More than half of the nobles sitting there stood up in unison.
Even the vassals of House Bolton almost subtly lifted their bottoms, but quickly remembered something and put themselves back in their chairs.
"Everyone, sit down, why are you looking at me?" Jon said, a little surprised. "My knight Tormien was a bit injured, and so were other soldiers. I bandaged them, which took some time."
'My goodness! Jon can even bandage wounds and care for the injured soldiers!'
Everyone immediately realized that Eddard's bastard son's image was becoming even more impressive.
Roose Bolton said nothing, only motioned for him to sit down.
Jon was about to sit in his usual corner when Harrion suddenly stood up and said:
"Jon, come sit here."
"Jon, you can sit here too!" Meici Severn quickly added.
Jon said thank you and sat in his original spot.
Although it was just a somewhat secluded corner, everyone still felt that it was the center.
Seeing this, Roose Bolton snorted coldly.
He believed Jon was completely putting on a show.
However, he quickly calmed down and prepared to summarize today's battle.
In his summary, he acknowledged Jon's contributions but downplayed his own mistakes.
He spoke for more than ten minutes, and besides the nobles and vassals of House Bolton, he received no agreement from anyone else.
Of course, except for Jon.
But Jon's response, when it reached Roose Bolton's ears, sounded particularly grating, like some kind of mockery.
Suddenly, a crisp sound of a sword being drawn echoed through the tent, and Roose Bolton's body trembled, thinking someone was about to mutiny.
His guards even stepped forward to shield him.
Then Harrion suddenly stood up.
He raised his sword and said to Jon:
"Jon, from today onwards, the army of House Karstark will be under your command, and I am willing to serve as one of your generals!"
As Harrion's words fell, the tent became so quiet that you could hear a pin drop.