Dragon Tribulation of All Realms

Chapter 270 The problem with people is their fondness for teaching.
They were standing there.

They watched as the King of the Frontier spoke on the platform.

They judged, they applauded, they acted just like ordinary members of the city wall.

However, anyone capable of rational thought would not feel that they should be standing in such a place.

The man was dressed in the black attire of the Night's Watch, but his face and hands were as clean as those of a noble lord from King's Landing. The woman's attire, on the other hand, clearly indicated that she came from a foreign land.

Perhaps it was Bravis, or perhaps even further back. And that face, which wasn't deliberately concealed, possessed a beauty that was unparalleled in the world.

Jon Snow considered himself a man of considerable experience; he knew his sister Sansa was one of the most beautiful women in the entire North. And before he arrived at the Wall and donned his black robes, he had even witnessed the beauty of the regal Queen from King's Landing—Cersei Lannister's nobility and elegance were so captivating that he could hardly look away.

But neither Sansa nor Cersei could compare to the woman standing in the crowd. He even felt that just looking up at her would be blindingly beautiful.

He dared not look—he instinctively turned his head away.

However, if his intuition is correct, then two people like these, even if they stand there without saying a word, will attract the attention of everyone around them.

Something... went wrong.

"Think what you want, you idiot," the red-haired girl replied beside him. "We're all heading south anyway, and whether you tell them or not, they'll find out."

What is she saying?
Ah… so that’s what we were talking about earlier—Jon shuddered slightly, realizing what she meant. He had only been giving her casual answers from the beginning. Just as he was about to think of something to say back, he saw the girl turn her head and look at the black watchtower on the south side of the city wall.

"Is that the castle? A real castle?" Her voice was filled with curiosity and a little excitement. Having grown up in the harsh lands beyond the Great Wall, she had never seen a real castle before.

“That’s just a watchtower.” Jon waved his hand, guiding her to look further into the distance. “Look, in that direction. That’s Castle Black, where we’re stationed, but Winterfell is much larger and taller.”

The girl gasped in surprise, and the strange feeling in Jon's heart subsided. He turned to look for his chubby friend Samwell. But then he remembered that Sam, with his size and courage, was no match for the front lines of the battlefield.

He had no choice but to turn his pleading gaze to the girl beside him.

"Um... could you do me a favor?" he said softly, his gaze still lingering on the two people who seemed so out of place. "Over there, in that group of people below the stage... do you recognize that man and woman?"

“You really know how to beg, Jon Snow.” The girl glared at him with some displeasure, but still looked in the direction of the crowd—the King Beyond the Wall was still giving a loud speech on stage, and among the cheering crowd below, there was no one particularly noteworthy.

"Which man and woman are you talking about... There are a lot of people there."

She didn't see anyone special.

When Jon Snow looked again, he could no longer see anything unusual.

There were still two people there, but they looked nothing like the ones he had seen before—an ordinary man and an ordinary woman mixed in with the crowd, as if everything before had been an illusion.

Is there a mistake?
He thought, his thoughts were a jumbled mess. Perhaps washing his face and getting some sleep would be a good choice. But before that…

He also had to figure out how to calm the girl down before she lost her temper.

..............................

Time passes quickly.

The King of the Frontier's speech had an effect beyond expectations.

When Jon Snow and the main force returned to Castle Black, the warriors of the North on the Wall reached a consensus—except for a very few old Night's Watch members who volunteered to stay, everyone would head south at sunrise the following day. Winterfell would be the most important stop on their journey, where warriors, along with the old, women, and children, would proclaim the glory of the Old Gods. —I don't quite understand.

Young Stark thought that he always felt a strange fanaticism pervaded everyone around him—he acknowledged that the Old Gods' miracles were indeed great, but even the greatest miracles couldn't justify making thousands of Night's Watchmen on the walls abandon their old grudges and beliefs. And those barbarians living in the barbaric lands beyond the Wall should be the same.

It was strange, but there was nothing he could do. Because he was a nobody, and because the tide was too strong to stop.

“Jon, from this day forward, you will succeed your uncle as First Ranger. When necessary, you may temporarily assume the duties of Commander and make your own decisions.” — The Commander-in-Chief’s words still echoed in his ears. He didn’t know if the weathered old Night’s Watchman had also sensed something, but when he sought help, this was all he received.

This assignment was utterly absurd. Even Jon Snow himself didn't believe that a young man who had only been on the walls for less than a month could shoulder such a responsibility and bear such an honor. However, when the order was issued, he found that the resistance was even less than he had anticipated.

No one objected, no one denied him. And when Lord Commander Mormont decided to remain at the Wall, to fulfill his unforgotten Night's Watch oath, and to build a temple for the Old Gods, his fellow Night's Watchmen, who had been so critical of him not long before, humbly bowed their heads to him, acknowledging his authority and pledging allegiance to him.

Power was in his hands.

But he only felt uneasy and afraid.

A self-aware person cannot ignore the crisis that follows a windfall, yet when faced with such a situation, no one can help them.

“Go back to sleep, Jon. You’ll have a lot to do tomorrow.” — The Commander-in-Chief seemed to sense his unease and gently patted his shoulder. “Perhaps you’ll feel better after a good night’s sleep.”

He took those words to heart.

And so, he stands here now.

Before you is the Chief Ranger's private room, and both the rock walls and the heavy oak door are excellent at soundproofing.

And a certain unseen premonition appeared in his heart.

He took a deep breath, closed the door, and shut the window. He glanced around, dragged a chair to a corner where he could see the entire room, and sat down.

He can see everything.

He slowly exhaled from his chest.

“…I hope it’s just my imagination,” he murmured, his gaze sweeping over the wardrobe and then under the bed.

then……

Everything always goes beyond expectations, yet it all seems perfectly natural.

Right before his eyes, without him even noticing, the strange man dressed in black sat down beside his bed.

“It’s not an illusion, Jon Snow,” the man said, his gaze sweeping over him. His eyes were sharp as an eagle’s, his tone as regal as a king’s.

However, even more important than all of that were what he said next.

"You have been chosen."

"You have been chosen to be the King of Westeros."

(End of this chapter)