[jon frowns, clenching and unclenching his burned hand. what is he interested in that exists in this world?]

I can fight. Man a garrison, command an army. Lead a ranging--I suppose that's not much use in a city.

[he sighs, looks up at the ceiling. he doesn't mind selling his sword, but to whom? he likes to think he'd do anything for his sisters, but he doesn't want to be some petty ganglord's bully for hire.]

I used to be a steward--I fetched meals for the old Lord Commander, mended his clothes, kept the fire going [burned his tower down...]. I got quite good at making the hot spiced wine.