Hey! We've reached the Wall this chapter, so it's close to the meeting with Jon that many of you are looking out for! I'd like to say that I have what I would consider to be a pretty awesome scene in mind for their meeting, which should be in two chapters' time. Hope you enjoy this one in the meantime, though!
Oh, and there's more news, in that this is now my most followed story! Thanks for all the support, people; I wasn't expecting this much of it so fast, or at all, really, so it's really great that this story is doing so well! Thanks!
So! On to the chapter!
It was a quiet sea voyage North, for the most part. While some ships such as the Stone Maiden might have taken a week, particularly in negotiating the Bay of Seals off Skagos, the Shadowcat managed the journey in four days. The weather was mainly calm during that period, only causing a little trouble on the third day.
The only thing which might have amounted to trouble that they saw were a few small, warship-shaped silhouettes which appeared to the south of them on the first day, but the Shadowcat was faster, and left them behind without making contact.
Kennet knew not what such ships should be doing off the Northern coast, but was glad that it didn't seem they would need to find out. They likewise were pleased to encounter no ships from the Dreadfort, when they passed the piece of coastline on which the Weeping Water lay on the second day. Then again, the Boltons were never the strongest sea power, and it was perhaps no surprise that their waters were clear.
The Grey Cliffs, directly south of Skagos and the Bay of Seals, they passed without event on the third day, having seen some trading vessels heading out of Karhold before reaching them. No contact was made, but acknowledgement was noted.
Some sightings of Skaagosi watercraft were all that marked the journey through the Bay of Seals, on the fourth day, and at nightfall, the fires of Eastwatch were spotted; as were the fires at the height of the Wall.
There were no men in the harbour, and it seemed few in the castle itself, judging by the torches, which were sparsely scattered in the latter at best. It seemed that atop the wall was where they stayed at nights, the Night's Watch; until the Shadowcat was close enough to make the approach to the harbour, turning outwards past a shoal of low rocks the navigator knew were there and offering a view beyond the Wall.
An army, torches ablaze, was throwing it's might against the Wall, and the Night's Watch were occupied repelling them with flaming arrows.
The ship made it into the harbour using the Shadowcat's crew's well-practised technique of sending a smaller two-man craft out ahead to guide the way with torches. While that was underway, Kennet and Mandon discussed with Phillep the best course of action to take from there.
Of course, helping to assure that the Wall's defences didn't fall while they were there would be beneficial, but could result in the crew or the ship being roped into temporary help - for rather longer than they'd perhaps hope.
It was agreed that the ship would stay put, but with men on watch through the rest of the night. If it became clear that the Wildlings were breaking through under cover of darkness, they would have to leave the harbour, if not, they would stay.
As Phillep had said, "We don't want to wake with our throats slit, or fight with our feet tied to the Wall!"
Kennet took the last watch, waking in time to hear the Night's Watch's exhausted cheers as they staggered back to their beds in the keep of Eastwatch, which was a dull, large, square shape.
The goods were soon offloaded once the rest of the men awakened, and Kennet, Tor, the horse, and Ser Mandon disembarked, leaving Phillep and the crew to unload and to trade with the gradually waking men of the Watch.
From what little Kennet had heard of Cotter Pyke, the man was almost always brutally honest and borderline offensive often. He wasn't sure they'd receive much help from him regarding travel to Castle Black, but they'd need a horse for Mandon and would likely be brought to the man's attention.
Still, it would be best to attempt at least to avoid potential problems such as Cotter Pyke, and there were a few stableboys in the yard who could be questioned on the matter.
Unsure how to begin such a conversation, Kennet simply chose to leave it to Mandon, stepping up next to a stable door and allowing Tor to greet the horse within. His grey garron sniffed suspiciously and almost skittishly at the large and sturdy brown, then wobbled, clearly still readjusting to solid ground.
The brown mare snorted and nudged at Tor, sniffing the smells of the ocean before nudging the grey with her nose, encouraging some kind of quiet response and shake of the head from Tor. Kennet turned from the horses to see that Ser Mandon was confronting a stableboy, who was resolutely telling him that the horses in the stables all belonged to the Watch.
"A question, then, boy," said Ser Mandon. "How many horses are stabled here?"
"Must be 'round sixty or seventy, Ser."
"And how useful are they to your men?"
The boy frowned. "What d'you mean?"
"There's an army outside your gates. You can't be going on many rangings, and I suspect your men don't have the time for just riding south of the Wall. These horses won't be needed for some time; you can find more use in buying supplies with the money I'd pay you for one."
The stableboy looked taken aback, but soon narrowed his eyes defensively. "'Ow much?"
"Ten dragons, for that large brown horse just next to my friend's, with full equipment," Mandon stated. It was a reasonable enough price. Many farmers would never see as much as a dragon, even for carthorses; fine warhorses, on the other hand, with bridle, saddle, and tack...
"Eighteen," the stable lad shot back.
"Ten."
"Seventeen."
"Ten."
"Fifteen."
"Ten."
"Fifteen."
"Eight, for the Watch. Two for you."
Mandon had cut to the heart of the matter; the lad had wanted a surreptitious yet significant chunk of the price, and he leapt at the offer. "Deal." The pair shook.
The lad sprang into action, fetching the horse's saddle, bridle, and so on, receiving a few odd glances from the other stableboys as he did so but waving them off. Mandon was stroking and surveying the horse during the process and seemed satisfied that he'd made a good buy.
"She's eight years old, now," the boy told them while fastening the bridle. "A stubborn one, but you're a knight. You can handle a horse."
"Better than he can handle a sword, hopefully," Kennet jibed.
"Just because you won six matches to four once doesn't immediately make you better than me!" Ser Mandon replied, faux-harshly.
The stableboy glanced at Kennet, at Kennet's swords, in Mandon's general direction, and suddenly and sharply back at Kennet's swords with a gasp, before narrowing his eyes and looking Kennet over a second time.
Kennet was wearing both Lady Wynafryd's token, the black-and-white shadowcat on grey, and the crossed dark spear and sword on green of House Blackmyre, which Lady Katryn, Lord Darion's daughter, had given him. Tooth and Claw were strapped to his right and left sides respectively, his hands on their pommels. He had two knives on him, one, on his leg, his own, while he had strapped to his back, under his shirt, the King's dagger. The spear that Darion Blackmyre had gifted him was on his back, too.
"Stop staring," he told the boy, "keep working. You're being paid well to do it."
The boy's eyes widened, and he nodded hastily, finishing tightening the saddle when the brown horse exhaled, and performing a final check before pronouncing the horse to be ready. "Oh, Ser, by the way, her name's Lark, though she barely responds to it anyway."
Ser Mandon paid him the gold and opened the stable, allowing Lark out and grabbing the horse by the reins before it bolted. A nod to the boy, a calming stroke to the mare's neck, and Kennet and Mandon headed back to the harbour to say their farewells and fetch provisions.
The air was bracingly cold, colder than Kennet had been since he'd left Karhold last, and after they'd said their farewells they set off, across the plains, west, following the Wall.
It was rather incredible, not only the heights that the Wall reached, but the distance. Kennet had seen the 700-foot fortification previously, at the opposite side; the Shadow Tower. Not only the sheer impressive scale of the wall at a single point, but the knowledge that such a large, immense structure extended that far, from one side of the North to the other, was incredible. But following it on such a journey... Even the idea of seeing a small part of the historic construction was an entrancing one. The history of it was well-known, and one which had always fascinated Kennet.
Ser Mandon, who'd never seen the Wall before, and had been distracted by the ongoing battle and darkness during their landing and the business at Eastwatch after, spent the first mile or so staring up at it in wonder, and Kennet left him to it.
The wonder would turn to boredom would turn to the monotony of a long trek across land soon enough. Best let the knight from White Harbour enjoy it while he could. It would be a few days of riding before they reached Castle Black, if not a week.
Castle Black, and then, the King. And then, a long fight, a struggle, and, with luck, a restoration of Stark authority in the North and independence.
Or death for the cause.
They would take the risk.