Game of Thrones: I Created the Magic Web

Jon Snow was also genuinely pleased with the victory at Stone Hedge.

With hardly any bloodshed, thirty thousand rebel troops surrendered, and even most of the buildings in Stone Hedge were preserved.

This is true forgiveness.

The King's latest military orders to him were similar instructions: battle and forgiveness.

Of course, Jon valued battle the most.

In this regard, Stone Hedge was also a good point of reference.

So, upon receiving the notification, Jon immediately reviewed the battle footage, studying each scene in detail, both as a captivated and enthralled spectator and as a student absorbing knowledge and experience.

Tactics and equipment worked in concert, intelligence and action were closely linked, easily defeating the enemy.

Truly a model battle.

Although there was a small regret at the end, it still did not detract from the brilliant results of the entire battle.

A full thirty thousand men, nearly half of the Reach's forces, were lost here. This also meant that the area east of Bitterbridge had lost its barrier, and the army could easily capture it, reclaiming large tracts of land.

Countless victories and glories awaited people to seize them. But this had little to do with him; the King's arrangements for him were not in the west.

From last night until now, Jon Snow stood at the top of the Eyrie's tower, pondering for a long time.

The sun had already risen into the sky.

He saw the distant forests and fields, all land.

Strangely, Theon Greyjoy's subtle expression and words from not long ago suddenly surfaced in his mind, full of the scent of conspiracy and trickery.

What is that fellow planning?

Jon shook his head, casting aside these pointless distractions.

There are still important matters to attend to now.

"The reinforcements from the sea are about to arrive. Make all preparations and depart in the afternoon," Jon Snow ordered.

Behind him, the old maester of the Eyrie was the only listener.

But the people scattered throughout the castle had already begun to act, hurrying to complete their final tasks, preparing to welcome the real battle.

The old maester understood the reason.

The Light Curtain connected people more closely than ever before, becoming a kind of whole, like the combination of brain and limbs.

Compared to those simple acts of violence, what the old maester valued most in his heart was actually the Light Curtain.

Flame? Light? Healing? These were nothing more than stronger swords or gold coins, capable of creating greater disasters or favors, but the rules of the world would not change.

Only the Light Curtain.

The great abundance of knowledge and information, the close communication and in-depth exchange of the human race, the world would benefit from this, and civilization and knowledge would advance rapidly…

This was the true power to change the world.

Although he could not imagine the clear face of that future, the old maester firmly believed that it would be far more than just the monotony of the present, that the Light Curtain had even more potential…

Ding~

A new task on the Light Curtain sounded. After looking at the content, the old maester couldn't help but be a little surprised.

Since writing those letters, the King's appointed castellan, Jon Snow, had put him, the maester, on a high shelf, with no more important tasks assigned.

But now.

The old maester couldn't help but look at Jon's back and ask, "My lord, do you want me to stay and manage the Eyrie?"

Jon turned around, smiling, "Maester Colemon, are you unwilling?"

Old Maester Colemon was slightly taken aback. This was the first time Jon Snow had called him by his name. "No, my lord, I am happy to serve. It's just that I thought…"

Colemon paused, not knowing how to continue.

"Maester Colemon, you're mistaken. I have never regarded you as an enemy."

Jon took two steps closer, "His Majesty is the true king of all Westeros, and you are a maester sworn to serve the people of the Seven Kingdoms. Could it be that I have so little confidence in your integrity?"

Jon's words were sincere: "We are like-minded friends."

Colemon was speechless and could only bow slightly.

The reasoning was indeed so. But from the bottom of his heart, old Maester Colemon was still unable to fully accept the status quo.

The people of House Connington were still under house arrest.

Jon was not surprised by the old maester's attitude. He opened the Light Curtain and used the modification permissions granted by the King.

Ding~

The crisp notification sound caused Colemon to subconsciously shift his attention and look at the Light Curtain.

In the next instant, his eyes widened.

"This! My lord, it shouldn't be like this. It's all in the past, this…"

Jon walked up to him and gently patted Colemon on the shoulder, "To give you a surprise, I secretly applied for a maester's position at the Citadel for you. Unexpectedly, after the review, they gave me a huge surprise first."

Colemon looked at the ground, trembling slightly.

"The Citadel does not require people to abandon their surnames," Jon added, "So, should I call you Maester Colemon Baratheon?"

The records documented him.

The youngest son of Lord Lyonel Baratheon, the "Laughing Storm," grandfather of King Robert, Colemon, born to a commoner.

It was said that Lord Lyonel had granted him the surname.

Colemon sighed deeply, "No, my lord. If it must be so, just call me Colemon Storm. Please change it back; it's all rumors."

In the personal information on the Light Curtain, the word "Baratheon" was so conspicuous and out of place.

He had never fantasized about Storm's End or the stag banner.

Jon followed his advice and changed Maester Colemon's surname back to "Storm."

"Even so, with your ability and character, you are more than suitable to guard the Eyrie," Jon returned to the main topic, "I have to lead the team myself. Only with you maintaining the castle's operation can I rest assured."

Colemon glanced at the Light Curtain again. In just a quarter of an hour, he had become a member of the Citadel and had a surname that should have been buried in the past.

What else could he do?

King Joffrey was about to win the entire Seven Kingdoms with successive brilliant victories, and the Eyrie was just an insignificant pile of rocks in comparison. How could he allow the King to doubt the Eyrie's loyalty?

"I am willing to serve His Majesty," he could only agree.

Jon nodded with satisfaction, "Please rest assured, during my tenure, the Eyrie will only receive glory and victory!"

Jon looked high-spirited.

Old Maester Colemon stared blankly at his face, recalling an image, "My lord, I knew Lord Jon Connington. You and he are not just the same name."

Jon Snow smiled, "It is said that my father named me after Lord Jon Arryn."

But he also knew Jon Connington.

The former Lord of the Eyrie, Hand of King Aerys II, who was exiled for failing in the Battle of the Bells and letting the rebel Duke Robert Baratheon escape, rumored to have died on the continent of Essos.

Similar to him, how could it not seem like some kind of curse? Simple emotion, or veiled admonition?

Jon smiled self-deprecatingly. I'm too sensitive.

"Departure!"

He ordered his Sixth Regiment and the newly formed Royal Fleet Marine First Regiment.

"Victory!"

More than two thousand people sneaked into the mountains, advancing north…

On the second night, they saw bright campfires and heard the clamor of voices.

They had arrived.

Jon Snow gripped his flaming sword, waiting for the best time to attack.

…

Inside Storm's End.

Joffrey gently stroked the pregnant belly of the priestess, like she was in her tenth month.

It felt warm and smooth to the touch.

Who would have thought that inside was not a small and lovely new life, but a hideous and terrifying shadow assassin?