Gendry glanced at Great Jon. He was a textbook muscle-bound man, similar to the Mountain's type. Jon Umber was a towering man nearly seven feet tall. His body was covered in thick muscle. He was a fearsome warrior. Members of House Umber tended to be massive, loved clamor, and their house sigil was a giant.
Most Northerners were very simple, trusting only fists and whips; those like Bolton were the minority. These Northern Lords only started bleating like sheep after they felt the whip.
"Great Jon." Robb frowned slightly, sensing trouble. He moved to reprimand this fool; had he known, he never would have brought this idiot, this loyal brute.
Although Robb felt that the guidance of the stag and Wolf alliance was dominated by the stag—just as his father had assisted the King in taking the iron throne—bending the knee was destined to be a burden and a responsibility. Currently, he had little connection with the stag, and the stag's strength far exceeded that of the North. But Robb hadn't expected Great Jon, that brute, to act first.
"You should keep a tighter rein on your vassals, Robb," Gendry said with a smile, then looked at Great Jon.
While the aristocratic hierarchy of this era was stable, it wasn't absolute. The relationship between liege and vassal was one of fealty, but it also contained friction; a vassal's loyalty depended on who they were serving. Even during the Targaryen Dynasty, King Maekar died suppressing the Peake Uprising. The Mad King was lured to Maidenpool and suffered great humiliation.
"It seems before I deal with the Lannisters, I'll have to hang you as an oathbreaker, Lord Jon," Gendry said.
"Hmph, I'm not as stupid as the others. Can a green boy like you really cut down the Kingslayer?" Great Jon was about to curse, but he wasn't entirely brainless; after all, when he previously provoked Robb, Grey Wind had bitten off several of his fingers. It was just Great Jon's impulsive nature that forced him to stubbornly rebel. Looking at Gendry, he still didn't believe this tough youth could defeat the Kingslayer; it was likely all talk.
"Lord Gendry, I am sorry. I will restrain my vassal immediately," Robb spoke up at once.
"Draw your sword," Gendry stood up and said solemnly to Great Jon. "There is no entertainment in the army; we might as well have a contest."
Northern barbarians were mostly unruly. Power was not something that could be directly inherited through blood alone. Even Robb had been provoked and looked down upon by these men at the start, to say nothing of their schemes. However, Great Jon was at least simple-minded and a graceful loser; he would serve as a perfect example for these Northerners.
The area below the wooden platform outside the tent quickly became lively as soldiers formed a circle in the clearing. Two tall warriors stood on the platform: one a black-haired storm standing six-foot-six, the other a Northern giant nearly seven feet tall.
"Victory!"
"Victory!"
"long live the storm!" the soldiers cheered first.
Great Jon drew the largest, ugliest greatsword Gendry had ever seen. Gendry had a soldier bring him a sword as well—a heavy, blunt iron sword.
Great Jon lunged. In his heart, he still thought to save some face for the great man and not make him look too pathetic. Great Jon swung his broadsword like a mountain collapsing; his strength was truly staggering.
Steel clashed against steel, producing a thunderous metallic boom. Great Jon launched his attack. For a man of his size, his attack speed was passably agile, yet Gendry parried with ease, as if taking a stroll, and did not take the initiative to attack.
With blades flashing everywhere, it was like two giants wrestling on the platform; the beasts had been unleashed. Though he looked relaxed on the surface, Great Jon grew wary. To be able to take so many hits head-on, his opponent's strength was not to be underestimated.
Robb was trembling with anxiety below; Great Jon was not only the loudest but also the most reckless.
"Don't worry, Robb," Theon whispered to him. "I see the Storm's subordinates are all very relaxed, looking as if victory is already in hand. If the Kingslayer truly lost everything in the Whispering Woods and had his hand cut by the Storm, then I think Great Jon is really going to lose." After all, though the Kingslayer was infamous, everyone recognized his raw strength.
"Is this all you've got?" Gendry asked.
"Not by a long shot!" Great Jon roared, unleashing his most frantic attacks.
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