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Karhold of House Karstark had declared for the Boltons. The Last Hearth, upon hearing that Jon had allowed the Free Folk through the Wall, swore to slaughter every one of them and renounce House Stark entirely, unless Jon was stripped of his position and the Free Folk were wiped out.
As for Deepwood Motte, there had been no reply at all.
Bear Island, however, was now ruled by a child. She had once refused Stannis's offer, declaring that Bear Island owed loyalty to only one house, House Stark. That, at least, might still be turned to their side.
…
Jon let out a long sigh, rubbing his temples.
At that moment, Olly pushed the door open.
"My lord, one of the Free Folk you brought back says he's seen your uncle, Benjen. He claims he's still alive."
Jon shot to his feet.
If that were true… it would be the first piece of good news in a long time.
"You're certain he said Benjen?"
"He said the man was the First Ranger. And he knows where to find him."
Jon didn't hesitate. He was already moving, striding out as fast as he could.
From atop a nearby roof, Jimmy watched the whole thing unfold and shook his head.
Too easy.
He had already noticed something earlier. While they were setting things up, a wooden board with the word "Traitor" had been placed in a corner, surrounded by freshly cleared snow.
More than twenty men stood gathered nearby.
All of them are staunch opponents of Jon Snow.
The noise outside, the hammering, the gathering crowd. Jimmy had seen it all when he stepped out earlier.
So they wanted to kill Jon Snow?
Not while he was around.
If they managed it, then everything he'd done would be for nothing—
Wait.
Jimmy froze for a second.
He had forgotten something.
The mission he'd been given was to protect House Stark.
And Benjen Stark… counted.
Damn it.
He had saved one and forgotten another.
And technically speaking, Jon wasn't even a true Stark. He was the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark.
By blood, he was a Targaryen.
Which meant Jimmy might have just saved a "dragon" while overlooking an actual wolf.
…
By the time Jon arrived, he was led straight to the wooden board.
He stared at the word carved into it.
"Traitor."
Confusion flickered across his face.
Wasn't he supposed to hear about his uncle?
Then—
A heavy impact.
"You idiots!"
Jimmy dropped from above like a falling blade, fury written all over his face, and sent the man closest to Jon flying with a single kick.
"Jimmy? Don't—this is—"
"Enough. You still don't get it? They're here to kill you."
Jimmy's voice was cold, edged with irritation.
"I'm already in a bad mood. Might as well take it out on you lot."
He didn't even draw his weapon.
He just stepped forward.
A punch.
A kick.
An elbow.
Every movement was precise, brutal, and efficient. His entire body became a weapon.
Men were sent crashing to the ground one after another.
At first, Jon thought Jimmy was holding back, seeing that he hadn't drawn his blade. Watching his sworn brothers rush in with swords, he even felt a flicker of concern.
But that thought didn't last long.
Anyone Jimmy touched went down.
No one got back up.
By the time Jon fully processed what was happening, more than twenty men lay sprawled across the ground.
All defeated.
"Jimmy…"
"What? You think I went too far?" Jimmy shot back. "Did you think they invited you out here for a friendly chat?"
"If I hadn't stepped in, that first blade would've ended you. And this is how you react to the man who just saved your life?"
He scoffed, clearly irritated.
"If it weren't for your mother, I wouldn't have bothered. You'd be better off dead for all I care."
With that, Jimmy turned and stormed off.
Jon's expression shifted sharply. "You… know who my mother is?"
"I don't. So stop asking," Jimmy snapped without looking back. "Go ask your uncle."
And just like that, he was gone.
"My uncle?" Jon looked just as lost as ever.
"…Forget it, Deal with this first."
Jon glanced at the scene before him, then slowly exhaled. Strangely enough, his expression eased.
Perhaps… this wasn't entirely a bad thing.
…
Knock. Knock. Knock.
"Ser Jimmy? Are you inside?"
Samwell's voice came from outside.
Jimmy was notorious for his morning temper, and only someone as gentle and patient as Sam would dare knock on his door this early.
The two of them had at least some level of familiarity.
"Ser Ji—"
"Sam, what is it?" Jimmy opened the door, clearly annoyed.
"Ser Jimmy, the Lord Commander is calling a meeting today. It's about… his position. Even Tormund is there.
Jon Snow asked me to come get you."
"Jon's stepping down?" Jimmy raised an eyebrow.
Sam blinked. "No… not that I know of."
So Jon hadn't even told Sam.
That made things clear.
Jon had already made his choice.
Between the Night's Watch and the Free Folk… he could only choose one.
The Watch had fewer than six hundred men.
The Free Folk, counting every able fighter, could muster at least eight thousand.
And Jon had earned their loyalty.
If he reclaimed his place as a Stark, he could lead them south and give them a home in the North.
Why stay here, surrounded by black-cloaked brothers who wanted him dead?
Every day brought worse news.
You couldn't have both.
Either give up the command… or destroy the Free Folk.
The latter was impossible.
The former?
Much simpler.
Better to walk away.
Let them have the Watch. He'd return south, reclaim Winterfell, and live as a Stark once more.
…
Jimmy thought it through and quickly understood Jon's plan.
He was preparing to walk away from it all.
And if he did…
The Night's Watch would likely be wiped out.
Sure, most of them weren't exactly saints.
But not all of them deserved that fate.
Jimmy had no intention of letting them die like that.
"Sam, go get Sansa. And have Gilly bring Shireen. Tell them I need to see them."
"…Alright." Sam hesitated for a moment, then nodded and left.
…
Not long after, Sansa and Shireen arrived.
Shireen's mood had been low ever since her recovery. Her illness was gone, but her father would never know.
She had been waiting for news of his victory…
It never came.
Sansa, sharing her grief, quietly comforted her.
"Ser Jimmy, thank you for saving Jon yesterday."
"No need. I wasn't about to let someone get killed right in front of me."
Jimmy waved it off, then got straight to the point.
"We've got something important to handle. I'll keep it brief. When the time comes, the two of you…"
…
"…I've decided to step down as Lord Commander," Jon declared. "I'll lead the Free Folk south, take back Winterfell, and secure a future for them."
"I object!" someone immediately shouted. "We are the Night's Watch. We do not take part in the wars of the Seven Kingdoms!"
"I don't want to," Jon replied firmly. "But Ramsay Bolton is marching on Castle Black. We don't have a choice. We fight… or we die."
He held up the letter brought by raven.
The room fell silent.
Shock spread across every face.
For a thousand years, the Night's Watch had stood against threats from beyond the Wall.
Never once had they faced an enemy from the south.
Now, that had changed.
"Is that… true?"
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