Game of Dragonborn.

Chapter 48 - The Winterfell Banquet 07.

[Chapter Size: 2700 Words.]

Third Person POV.
Winterfell.

...

...

"Go! Go!"
"Go! Go!"
"Go! Go!"
"Go! Go!"
"Go! Go!"
"Go! Go!"
"Go! Go!"

The chorus quickly caught the attention of most of the hall as they continued shouting, watching both contestants try to win the drinking competition. Jon remained calm as he gulped down the beer made in these lands—something, to be honest, he had never tried before. After all, he had only been a child when he last lived here, unable to taste such things, and now he tried to behave properly in front of the Starks. Even so, it seemed like weak alcohol compared to much stronger ones he'd had before. This made him drink calmly until his body consumed the last drop.

When he finished, he smiled at the chorus cheering him on while watching the man from the North still struggling to finish his mug.

"Come on, give me another one!" he demanded as the men quickly handed him another drink.

"Come on, Dovahkiin!" they exclaimed as Jon moved on to his second mug, his challenger still trying to finish the first.

When Jon finished the second mug, he was already halfway through the third while the people laughed at the Northerner, who was visibly losing. Nevertheless, another mug was passed to him.

"Ricked, looks like someone drinks more than you! Are you going to give up already?!" his friend teased, placing another mug in his hands. Ricked quickly grabbed it and raised it to his lips, trying to keep up with the Dragonborn.

Jon kept drinking until he finished, then opened a smile as he looked at the man struggling with his second mug.

"Come on, you challenged me, and now you're drinking like a girl," Jon taunted with a grin, eliciting some laughs from the men around them.

Jon drank his third mug while the man barely managed half of his second before starting to cough and choke, having rushed too much after Jon's mocking.

"Looks like the Dovahkiin won," a friend commented, clapping the Northerner on the shoulder as he was still trying to recover amidst the crowd celebrating Jon's victory.

"Looks like it... How can you drink so much?!" Ricked, still coughing, looked at Jon, who simply shrugged.

"No one can beat me at this game," Jon said.

"I doubt you could beat the Greatjon. I guarantee he drinks more than an ox," a Northerner soldier from House Umber commented from nearby. There were many soldiers from various Northern houses present.

Jon shrugged. "Bring him, or anyone else for that matter. Let them come and try to beat me."

He issued the challenge.

"Let me try!" said a man who didn't seem to belong to any house—a southern mercenary. "I'm great with drinks. I can beat you without choking like this Northerner here. After all, they barely drink anything," the man openly mocked.

His fellow mercenaries laughed and cheered for him, while the Northerners at the table began to boo, clearly displeased with the man's comment.

"Then prove it. Give him a drink, and bring me another one," Jon challenged as he watched the maids place more drinks on the table, their gazes intense upon him.

"Alright, let's do this!" the mercenary exclaimed, and both began drinking rapidly.

They continued drinking, the mercenary proving to have a stronger stomach than the last opponent. Both drank evenly while Jon maintained his pace, savoring the alcohol. They moved on to the second, third, and fourth mugs and were already on the fifth.