Chapter 609: A New Expedition

The morning sun shone brightly, its glare intense enough to necessitate a squint when one looked towards the horizon from horseback.

At the Gates of the Gods in King's Landing, it was through these grand gates that Cersei had initially surrendered the city. Now, these gates were bidding farewell to the soldiers about to embark on their expedition.

Clip-clop, clip-clop. The sound of hooves echoed on the cobblestone streets.

"Halt!"

A squad of knights in shining armor approached the edge of the city gates, reigning in their warhorses. Leading them was a knight whose face bore the marks of many a harsh winter. Clad in black with a metallic direwolf badge pinned to his left chest, his once dark brown hair now intermingled with strands of gray.

The knight stood by the city gates of the capital, observing the ceaseless flow of people coming and going, a mix of melancholy and reflection welling up within him.

The last time they entered this city, they were leaders of the rebel army. But now as they depart, their identity had shifted. He had become a basic soldier of the Night's Watch, setting forth to reclaim their homeland and the Wall.

Despite the numerous ordeals they had faced, the city remained the same with its three hills standing tall amidst the flatlands.

The flags bearing the three-headed dragon fluttered atop the city, a symbol of authority, magnificence, and awe-inspiring might. The realm was on the rise, forged in fire and blood, now known across both sides of the Narrow Sea as a burgeoning powerhouse set to dominate all quarters.

And this knight was none other than the former Duke of Winterfell, Eddard Stark. He stood at the inside of the Gates of the Gods, waiting for the arrival of the main forces, glancing back at the Red Keep atop Aegon's High Hill, with many thoughts crossing his mind.

The months had flown by swiftly, and a new year in the kingdom had arrived—Aegon's 295th year, the third year of the new calendar. Perhaps due to the inconvenience of changing calendars, the people of King's Landing had started keeping track of both, while those outside the capital mainly stuck to either the Aegon or Conqueror calendar.

Upon seizing the Iron Throne, Robert had renamed the Aegon calendar to the Conqueror calendar. Over the span of a few years, the transition from Aegon to Conqueror and then to the new calendar had indeed posed a challenge for the common folk of the Seven Kingdoms with limited education.

However, this issue would eventually be resolved as time wore on.

At present, the kingdom was recuperating and rejuvenating. The causeway across the Neck had been completed with the efforts of the entire nation, making it capable of accommodating a large army. Coupled with the interest-free loans from the Iron Bank of Braavos, the Iron Throne and the Small Council, after deliberations, had issued a royal decree a month ago.

It was time to launch the campaign to reclaim the North from the clutches of the dead.

This time, the soldiers mobilized were the former armies of the North. However, their command had changed. The new policies of the realm did not permit nobles to command forces exceeding their private army limits. Hence, all Northern forces were now under the command of a corps independent of the kingdom's military structure.

The Night's Watch.

Several years had passed since the war against the White Walkers, which for humans felt like a long time, but for the White Walkers might have been merely a halftime rest, a brief retreat to gather strength before returning with a vengeance.

To prepare for future wars, the Iron Throne proposed the 'Great Night's Watch Plan.'

This plan aimed to expand the size and personnel of the Night's Watch, restoring this legendary corps to its former glory to face the wars against the White Walkers. This proposal was in harmony with the distinct customs of the North.

Northerners were highly xenophobic, disliking outsiders governing them. And under the new policies, nobles were not allowed to retain private armies. The realm had no intention of granting special privileges to Northern nobles like those in Dorne. So, all soldiers were conscripted under the command of the Night's Watch.

Apart from the convicts sent over, the other Northern soldiers did not have to take the harsh oaths. They were allowed to return home to marry and have children after serving for a few years, serving as peripheral soldiers of the Night's Watch.

In the series of new policies from the Iron Throne and the Small Council, the current Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, Jeor Mormont, unexpectedly emerged as one of the biggest winners.

Once, he had to run around for a few convicts, pleading on their behalf. But now, with a royal decree, he had suddenly become one of the most powerful men in the Seven Kingdoms.

However, he knew well that as swiftly as this power had come, it could be taken away just as fast.

At his age, he understood the power struggle implicit in these developments. With a single decree, the Iron Throne could elevate him to great heights or reduce him to nothing.

His power was illusory, unlike the supreme power of the Iron Throne that could shake the Seven Kingdoms with a single word, turning the world upside down.

Therefore, besides feeling elated, Jeor Mormont suppressed the fire of arrogance in his heart, became more cautious, focused on fulfilling his duties, and refrained from asking or thinking too much.

Even when countless nobles came knocking at his door, paying visits in the wake of the royal decree, they were all turned away.

"Father!"

At this moment, a horse galloped down the main avenue of King's Landing, and the rider dismounted.

"Robb."

Thud—

The one who came to bid Eddard farewell was his eldest son, Robb Stark. Eddard jumped down from his horse, and father and son embraced tightly.

"How did you manage to come here?"

After releasing his son, Eddard ruffled Robb's auburn hair, inquiring.

"His Grace allowed me to bid you farewell."

Robb Stark seemed a bit discontented as his father messed up his hair, immediately shrinking back.

"Hmm."

Eddard nodded, glanced at the Red Keep in the distance, and seeing his son dodge, a smile crept on his face.

"What's the matter, Robb?"

"Now that you're the Governor of the North and Lord of Winterfell, you won't let your father touch your head?"

A few months had passed, the calendar had changed, and Eddard had emerged from the sorrow of Robert's recent death. Life had to go on, and his spirits had lifted considerably.

"Of course not! Father!"

Robb immediately retorted, refusing to admit that he now cared more about his image since he had grown a year older.

After all, King's Landing was filled with high-born ladies, and as the Lord of Winterfell, he needed an heir. At a previous banquet, while following Viserys, he had accidentally encountered Margaery Tyrell of Highgarden and was utterly smitten.

Seeing his son's slightly distracted demeanor, Eddard's smile faded slightly. Although he didn't voice his concerns like Catelyn did, as a father, he too worried for Robb.

Historically, members of the Stark family who ventured south often met grim fates, including himself.

He patted Robb's shoulder once again, his tone solemn.

"I'll wait for you in the North, Robb."

"Hmm!"

Robb looked at his father and nodded firmly.