The Mountain of Ice and Fire

Queen Mother Catelyn Tully was dignified and noble, while Queen Roslin Frey was elegant and charming. King Robb Stark was young and brave, and the Northern generals and guards were all imposing and true warriors.

However, these outstanding figures seemed too small and fragile in the face of the dragon.

Under the dragon's wings and in the huge shadow it cast, the Northerners in the training yard looked like a group of small ants.

The dragon landed, and the airflow from its wings created a swirling gale, stirring up dust, sand, and snow from the ground, causing people to turn sideways and lower their heads to avoid it.

The Mountain grabbed the dragon's horn and jumped off its back.

This was probably the only way to get on and off a dragon in all of history. The guy riding the dragon's back was not a true dragon knight; he was a pseudo-dragon knight.

This was a miracle unknown to outsiders!

The Mountain's way of dismounting the dragon was something Robb Stark had never read about in books.

However, this method was mighty and domineering, befitting the Mountain's fierce reputation.

The King of the North stepped forward and extended his hands to the Mountain, who had landed with a bang: "Welcome to Winterfell, Duke Gregor Clegane."

"Your Majesty, call me the Mountain."

"Alright, Mountain, Winterfell welcomes you."

The Mountain and Robb firmly grasped each other's forearms, a symbol of equality and friendship. In front of the Mountain, Robb was just a half-grown child, and in front of the dragon, Robb was as small as a newborn baby.

Robb was not the Mountain's king.

The dragon stood proudly behind the Mountain, like a small mountain. As its dragon eyes closed, golden-red light splashed out like fragments. The soldiers were all filled with awe and reverence. Catelyn and Roslin tried their best to maintain their composure, but the corners of their eyes betrayed them. Their bodies trembled slightly, perhaps with excitement, perhaps with awe, or perhaps both.

The dragon brought warmth, making the air in the training yard hot.

Captain of the Guard Harris Moran instructed the guards to immediately bring over a dozen goats.

"Dragonfire!" The Mountain said. He spoke in High Valyrian.

The Northerners did not understand this language, but the dragon did.

Sheep Stealer's long neck suddenly glowed with a bright red light, as if a sun was being nurtured within the skin beneath his neck. The light was so strong that the skin and scales on it could not block it. The golden-red light shone through the skin and scales, brightening the dragon's throat.

The dragon's mouth opened, revealing a mouthful of fangs. Looking into the large mouth, the tongue was covered with dense, golden-red barbs. Deep in the throat, the golden-red light was dazzling. A ball of fire spewed out, carrying a scorching airflow...

Boom!

The dragonfire hit the lead goat, and the flames spread out like a tide hitting a rock, cascading and surging, engulfing the dozen or so goats behind it. The goats' screams still echoed in the sky, but their flesh was already cooked, and the aroma of roasted meat filled the air.

The light of the dragonfire was too bright, stinging the eyes of the Northerners; the flames of the dragonfire were too intense, making the entire training yard feel like a warm spring breeze, dispelling the cold, and everyone felt the heat on their faces.

"Feed!" The Mountain said. This was still in High Valyrian.

Sheep Stealer had come to the North, and the temperature of this extremely cold place would make him uncomfortable. In order to make Sheep Stealer adapt to the Northern climate as much as possible, the Mountain made a small request in his letter to the King of the North: Sheep Stealer needed to feed on goats as soon as he arrived at Winterfell.

Eating as soon as he arrived would allow Sheep Stealer to maintain better energy, dispel fatigue, and ease the discomfort caused by the Northern cold.

Dragons do not like the cold.

Adapting to the extreme cold of the North takes time. The Mountain believed that in addition to allowing Sheep Stealer to automatically adapt to the cold of the North, some measures were also needed to reduce the intense discomfort that the extreme cold initially brought him.

That was immediate feeding.

The cold of the North was completely different from the cold of the Mountains of the Moon.

The cloud-covered peaks of the Mountains of the Moon had snow, but the dragons lived below the snow line, at the foot of the mountains, where it was as warm as spring.

Sheep Stealer swallowed the dozen or so goats one by one, as easily as people swallow a few small bird eggs.

In just a short while, Sheep Stealer had swallowed the goats clean. When his belly was full, the extreme cold felt much better.

The Mountain patted Sheep Stealer's head: "Sheep Stealer, go meet the legions heading north and take a look at the priestess Melisandre."

Sheep Stealer let out a low dragon roar and gently rubbed against the Mountain's body. Then, he soared into the air, and the flapping of his wings stirred up a strong wind on the ground, messing up the hair of the Queen Mother, Queen, and Northern noblewomen and nobles, and whipping up their cloaks.

The Northerners watched in surprise as Sheep Stealer circled once above the Mountain's head, then flapped his wings and flew high into the clouds, eventually becoming a small black dot until he disappeared completely.

"He can understand Lord Mountain's words?" King Robb of the North said with emotion.

"I'm not sure, but he's very intelligent. Every time I say something to him, I feel like he understands."

"Duke Gregor, books say that dragons are the most intelligent magical creatures. According to the royal dragon history records, Sheep Stealer was the dragon of a Cannibal dragon knight, a dragon with a close relationship with humans, and can quickly understand its master's words and instructions," Queen Roslin Frey said gracefully.

"Your Majesty, Sheep Stealer has lived with humans for more than one hundred and seventy years. I believe he is no stranger to human languages. After he allowed me to ride him, I felt like he could understand everything I said," the Mountain said.

"Dragons are advanced intelligent creatures that cannot speak human languages, but they are not any more stupid than us," Queen Roslin said with a smile.

"Yes, Your Majesty," the Mountain said politely, without the savagery and rudeness that people had rumored.

The Mountain looked at Roslin. This Frey's body did not look good, frail, but her beauty was exactly what men liked.

First of all, Roslin's skin was extremely fair, as white and smooth as milk, which was very tempting. Secondly, her face was delicate, with a small chin, a delicate nose, and a pair of large, brown eyes as beautiful as a dream. Her dark chestnut hair was styled into loose curls that reached her waist. Her smile was even more charming, with a small gap in the center of her front teeth, which was particularly memorable.

Her mother, Bethany Rosby, was deceased, the sister of Ser Gyles Rosby, the coughing Lord of Rosby in the Crownlands. Based on this relationship alone, if Lord Gyles was not sensible, the Mountain could have Ser Boros Blount frame Gyles for treason in collusion with King Robb of the North.

The Mountain's gaze was not crude, and the time he spent looking at the Queen's face was just right, which relieved Queen Mother Catelyn Tully, who had been worried that he would be rude in public. The Mountain's rudeness could not be considered rudeness. No one would laugh at him for it, but the Stark family was a rigid family that valued honor as life. In Eddard Stark's creed, honor was above life!

If the Mountain was rude, it would be the Stark family that would be laughed at.

"Mountain, it's cold outside. Let's go inside. I've already lit the fireplace in my hall for you," Robb Stark gestured to invite him.

So, the group walked into the Stark family's main castle. The Mountain's heart was filled with admiration for the Stark family. The Stark family's ancestral sword was on his back, and neither Catelyn nor Robb seemed to see it.

They all knew that the Mountain had not only saved Eddard Stark's life, but had also saved the entire North with his warning about Frey's Red Wedding.

When the Mountain led his army to aid the Northerners in fighting the Others, the people of this family did not mention the ancestral sword Ice, and from top to bottom, the gazes they cast on the greatsword Ice did not show the concern they should have.

This could only mean one thing: the King of the North must have held a family meeting beforehand to discuss this ancestral sword.

Since the owner of the sword did not mention it, the Mountain was happy to pretend he knew nothing at all.

It was best if everyone avoided this topic without a trace, although the Mountain had prepared a generous speech and would righteously promise that the sword was borrowed and would be returned in the future. It was just that the specific date of return could not be determined. Maybe it would be a year later, maybe it would be a hundred years later, who knew!

*

"Lord Gregor," Queen Mother Catelyn Tully spoke first in the meeting hall, which showed that her status in the family was really not low, but perhaps Robb deliberately arranged for his mother to say things that were not easy to say, which was commonly known as one singing a red face and one singing a black face. "We are Northerners, and we are very familiar with the weather, geography, people, and soldiers of the North. We also have more knowledge of the Others and wights than you do. I propose that Robb Stark be the commander-in-chief of the allied forces and that you be his deputy."

The Northern generals stood on both sides. Almost all the nobles of the North were gathered here. The King of the North had deployed heavy troops in Winterfell and decided to fight the Others to the death here. There would be no retreat.

This was a life-and-death battle for home and country!

The Queen Mother's words were reasonable and won the Northern generals' nods, agreement, and applause.

Robb Stark looked at the Mountain with a calm expression. The Mountain was sure that the Queen Mother's words were Robb's words. The King did not speak, but let his mother say it for him. If the Mountain disagreed, he could respond freely based on the Mountain's words.

Robb was not easy to deal with. The Mountain knew this very well.

But he was not an easy person to deal with either.

"Queen Mother, King, Queen, Lords, if I cannot fully control the lives and deaths of the hundreds of thousands of soldiers in the South and cannot be responsible for them, I will withdraw my troops. I will not participate in the decisive battle of Winterfell." The Mountain was the Mountain. With one sentence, he smashed all the reasoning to pieces. This was the typical Mountain-style barbarism: you need me, so I call the shots. As for everything else, it's bullshit. If you don't agree, I'll just leave.

Robb and his vassals were all stunned. What kind of negotiation was this?! It was like child's play. The mobilization of hundreds of thousands of soldiers in the South was not a matter of a single sentence. Logistics, coordination of legions from various places, all of this was a waste of money and manpower. Saying that they wouldn't fight meant that royal power and military prestige were a joke!

The polite Mountain in the training yard had disappeared, and the unreasonable Mountain had returned, and he made no secret of it.

"Lord Mountain," Catelyn's smile disappeared. She no longer called him Duke Gregor. Her expression was serious. "My proposal is in your best interest, in the best interest of the Southern army and the Northerners, and is the most beneficial to the specific situation on the battlefield. It is not for the sake of fighting for military power. If you withdraw your troops with a single sentence, Winterfell will lose your support and be defeated. By then, the Others' army will grow several times stronger, and when winter comes, the South will also be attacked by the Others, and everyone will perish together. Lord Mountain, cooperation benefits both sides, while conflict harms both sides."

"I will be the commander-in-chief, and my dragon and legions will enter Winterfell to fight the Others. If it were not me, I and the Southern legions would retreat to the Neck and watch the battle of Winterfell between the Northern army and the Others. If you win, we will withdraw our troops. If the Others win, we will defend the Neck and prevent the Others from going south."

If Westeros was compared to a person, then the Neck would be the giant's neck. This neck area was covered by wetlands and unfathomable quicksand. It was the dividing line between the north and south of the continent. To the north was the North, and to the south was the Riverlands.

On both sides of the Neck was the sea. To the east was the Narrow Sea, and to the west was the Sunset Sea.

The Neck was the only way for the Others to go south. There was only a narrow levee that four people could pass through. Otherwise, if you were foolish enough to leave the levee, quicksand would be waiting to swallow you at any time. And in the swamp, poisonous snakes and lion lizards were everywhere.

The Mountain's words plunged the meeting hall into silence. No one knew that the Mountain was negotiating in such a difficult way, without the slightest respect for each other's etiquette and discussion. This was simply a kind of condescending and tyrannical dominance. This was not a friendly negotiation at all.

"No one can break through the Neck by land. I don't think the Others can do it either. No matter how many Others who cannot be killed by swords there are, the hundreds of miles wide swamp can swallow them all."

Catelyn, whose face turned pale, looked at Robb. Robb's face was heavy, but his direwolf Grey Wind became restless, stood up, and his wolf eyes were as sharp as knives, staring at the Mountain, as if he would pounce on him and tear the Mountain's throat in the next second.

But the Mountain was expressionless. Having tamed the dragon, the highest magical creature, he was not afraid of the direwolf Grey Wind at all. He was as stable as a mountain!

Roslin Frey looked at her husband. Robb Stark's heavy eyes gradually eased, and the direwolf Grey Wind slowly sat down, but his beastly eyes still stared at the Mountain, his gaze like knives.

"Mountain, I entrust Winterfell and all the people of the North to you. Are you confident in winning this war?"

"I am!"

"Can I hear your tactics first?"

"No." The Mountain said lightly, "Robb, I not only want full military command, but I also want all the soldiers of the allied forces to swear that all actions will be under my command, including Lord Eddard and Your Majesty. Anyone who disobeys my orders will be punished by military law!"

Robb's face changed slightly, and the direwolf Grey Wind jumped onto the table with a whoosh, baring his teeth and roaring at the Mountain. The direwolf's two rows of sharp teeth were exposed, with a slight curve, like daggers and steel thorns.

"Mountain..." Catelyn Tully said. But the Mountain immediately interrupted her: "Queen Mother, I want absolute military command. There is no room for negotiation on this matter. If you agree, I will tell you my military plan to completely wipe out the Others and kill the Night King. If you don't agree, then bring out the wine and dishes, let me have a good drunk, and then leave."

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