Chapter 8
Ruling was not as easy as he had thought. Nothing seemed as simple as he thought, though. Robb had bent the knee to him willingly, and Hoster a little less willingly. The Vale was undecided as of yet, Dorne had submitted, quite a few stormlords had sworn to Stannis. The Westerlands had raised their bannermen for Tommen, who had escaped. The Reach was also undecided, though they would side with him if he married Margaery, which he had accepted with reluctance. The war would be swift with only two enemies.
Jon was watching Stannis make his assault from the walls, garbed in black plate with a red dragon helmet upon his head. He turned to the catapult engineers and gave them the signal. Nodding and grinning, they placed the wildfire pots onto the catapults and launched them. The assaulting men were terrified when suddenly hundreds of men were incinerated and others burning profusely. He grinned and held up his new bastard sword for all his men to see as he gave a speech. "These men are brave men, but they're on the wrong side!" His insult worked, and quite a few men laughed. The wildfire catapults launched once more, incinerating a few hundred more men. The constant thrum of crossbows or longbows was reassuring to hear, as the many men at arms down below were dying by the hundreds. The only thorn in his side was that they still held naval superiority. I should've built a bigger fleet. The men at arms were deploying shields with wet leather hides on them now, many and more of them. They hid behind them while they wheeled up, then they would poke out their crossbows and fire. Unfortunately for them, they were packed a little too close, a remedy wildfire could assist with. The men at arms still kept swarming, however - reaching closer and closer to the walls with the ladders, quite a few making it to the walls now.
The horn came as a relief, then. In the distance, he saw a massive cavalry force with Tyrell, Tully, and Stark banners flying true. The men at arms only had a few moments to begin to break and flee before the massive wave of cavalry smashed them to pieces.
"I must thank you for that save. I was actually starting to fear they might enter the city, t'be true." Jon grinned at Robb and clasped his shoulder. "Cousin. Last I saw you, I was but a lowly bastard. Now I'm king. Strange, isn't it?" Robb grinned and clasped him back, pulling him into a hug. "I thought the messenger who said Jon was now King was mad. Glad I was wrong."
Jon turned to Edmure and bowed his head to him. "Hello, Edmure. I am glad you have ridden with my cousin." Edmure stiffened a little. "It was my duty to my nephew." Jon shrugged at that and turned to Garlan Tyrell, who had lead the vanguard. "Garlan. I am glad for your help. The marriage to your sister will be soon, I promise." Garlan nodded his head at him respectfully. "Now then," Jon said with a grin, "It's time for me to choose my small council."
"Robb and Garlan, I want you two as my commanders when I retake the west. Edmure, I want you as my master of laws. The master of whispers will be Varys, and my Master of Coin will be chosen at a later hand. Garlan, you will be my Master of Arms, and Robb, if you will have it, you will be my King's Hand." Robb grinned at him fully and nodded his head. "I accept."