CHAPTER 6

BLOODED ROAD

He stood there. Suddenly a giant in stature. Larger even. With Harma's blood plastered over his chest, Mag's blood dripping down to the earth from his elbow and his other opponents groaning as background.

What a figure he struck. Just staring into each and every eye that was gathered around him. what will happen now? Was the question on Mance's mind. He looked around discreetly and realized. He need not have done so. Not one single person was paying him any heed. 'Good. He has their attention now. How will he use it?' He spoke to himself.

He looked to his side some yards away and saw Styr putting himself in a sitting position. He did not groan, grimaced, yes, but not groan. Too proud for it. He may have lost the fight and his left leg, but he was still Magnar of Thenn and, to his belief, one of the last descendants of the FirstMen. His pride was forever intact.

"Do you wish to live? Mance tuned his head as he hears Kratos repeats his earlier question. Some Random man in a random direction shouted a reply.

"Aye, want to live. But we wont become kneelers for it!" Murmurs of agreement came from the crowd.

"FOOLS!" came Kratos' ear-splitting reprimand. "While you cling to your so-called freedom. Death gains ground. Do you think he cares if you are free?" his face was stern, and his voice was like chips of ice from the wall.

"What has this 'freedom' brought you? What is there to be proud of? what strides have you made as a people? I have seen nothing but separation. Heard about naught but men and women without conscience without self-control. I wiped an entire civilization from existence for such transgressions."

The implications of that statement were not lost on Mance and, he suspected, not lost on the FreeFolk either. At least the more reasonable of them. Which, now that Mance thought about it, was not very many. Either way, the conclusion he had come to, was the same. Changes had to be made. He could see that these are not a people Kratos would be eager to help. Hmmm.

"Do you wish to see your children starve? Most not making it to their first name day? Freedom? look to your left… can you trust the person beside you?" Mance saw a woman with a babe in her arms look to her side and clearly didn't like what she saw, for she pulled her babe closer to her chest and turned away.

"Disloyalty. Dishonesty. Dishonor." He paced in front of the crowds as he spoke. Blood still drying his person. It was an intimidating sight, Mance had to admit. He could never be mistaken for a regular man but now everyone knows he is something more. The authority this gives him will be unlike anything any leader of the FreeFolk ever had. Not even Joramun himself, who was the greatest King-beyond-the-Wall in history, was only a man.

"You are not self-sufficient. You raid your own neighbors, people you share kinship with, or you raid beyond the wall. All to survive, but you are barely doing even that."

"That's how it's always been. It's our way!" someone, again, entirely random shouted.

"No. It will be so no longer. You fighters, yes, but I aim to make you warriors. You lack discipline, but I shall turn you into soldiers…it is the Spartan way." he said with deep growl of his.

"And Spartans kneel to no one."

-Line Break-

That was two moons hence and just as Mance had thought, changes had taken place. Evident changes. Nothing so great as to rival the Seven Kingdoms, but Changes none the less.

After his speech Kratos had tasked him with gathering the most influential leaders that were left. So gathered them he did. Naturally, Val, Tormund and Karsi were present. He also called Sigorn, since his father would be bed ridden for the foreseeable future. Mag was there as well, well…after he calmed down.

Kratos had told them his plans. How he would teach them to fight as one, as a single unit and they in

turn would teach the legions of fighting men each would take command of. He told them to choose

a number of the best fighters from their respective commands and they would train with them. He

had ask after the portion of the population that were fighting men. A rough estimation was made

and they had concluded that it was somewhere between a hundred and fifty and two hundred

thousand men. Kratos was impressed with the numbers but appalled by the lack of discipline.

Mance remembered he had said. "You are many. But you could be decimated by a well-trained and

well-armed company of ten thousand. A cavalry would make short work of you." He had pointed out

harshly. Val took offense.

"We're not so weak as that." She declared forcefully.

"You are weak. Being able to kill does not make you strong. Can you defend the person fighting

beside you?"

"What do I need to protect them for?" Sigorn asked in disgusted confusion.

"That is the why you are weak. You fight only as yourselves, for yourselves. A chaotic prospect.

Easier to kill a man standing by himself than to kill a group defending each other from all sides."

He paused to let the message take root.

"I will teach you to become this. But I will require obedience. My orders will not be questioned."

The finality in his had brokered no argument or disagreement. He had indeed started training them

from then. It's not been awfully long but he had worked them like Slaves from Volantis. He had drilled

military jargon into their bones.

Weeks he would take them away from the camp, and they would not be seen, only to come back looking harder than the earth itself. Bruises and scars anew. With meat they had hunted.

He lamented the time they had or lack thereof. His knowledge of warfare, strategy, and battle

tactics, he said, could not be learned in two or even six moons. Practical experience he said, was a

better teacher than himself. He had tasked his captains, which he took to calling the few he was

training, to divide the fighting men into four separate legions.

Tormund had command of the largest company of sixty thousand and the other ninety divided

evenly among Val, Karsi and Sigorn. Naturally, Mag had command of the giants which Kratos had

called siege machines.

After the two moons Kratos had spent training them. He tasked them with drilling their perceptive

commands and to answer any subordination with extreme prejudice. They were given these orders

earlier this very day and Mance was now searching out Kratos to have a talk with him.

He sparsely recognized the camp has he walked through. The air of tension that was so thick was not

as stifling as what it was before.

Of course, in the wake of Kratos' leadership there were those who

did not agree with his reforms. Many who wished to return to their ways of debauchery and villainy.

They weren't particularly vocal about these disagreements, but they caused some trouble here and

there. Nothing so brazen… yet.

They genuinely feared Kratos. He was very clearly stronger than any other man in the camp, so they weren't eager to call down his judgement upon themselves. For now. Mance walked by a few of the captains drilling their men. The weaponry was basic, and they wore no great armor, but it will have to do, at least until they got behind the wall.

He also noticed that more and more people have started wearing red markings upon their faces. These were the followers of the WoodsWitch. She had taken to marking those who came to her, wanting to hear more about Kratos as 'Spartans.' the word was becoming more popular and more of the FreeFolk were coming to style themselves as such rather than FreeFolk.

A strange turn of events in Mance's eyes but not surprising. Such a people would respect strength and ability more than anything else and those were attributes Kratos had aplenty. He was may-haps the most capable man Mance ever met.

He had asked one of the …Spartans? where he could find Kratos and they had pointed him outside of camp, into the forest proper. He walked in that direction and came to spot which was being guarded by two sturdy looking men with red markings on their faces. Why they felt the need to guard such a man as Kratos, he could not fathom, but he supposes that they wanted to feel useful.

When they saw him, they brought their right fists to their chest but didn't speak… or look at him really. He nodded at them and passed by to find Kratos in a clearing which was crowned by a Weirwood tree, training his… that girl, Atrea. Since the spectacle, a few moons ago she had been following around at his heels like a pup. He had not seemed to mind her presence, so no one said anything about it. In fact, it had become such a familiar thing that many had come to refer to her as his ward and treated her with respect around the camp.

It was only a week ago he had started training her after his last disappearance with his captains. He had said he would have her know how to properly fight, so she would not have to find her end as her parents did at the end of someone's weapon. His attachment to the girl seemed to have stemmed from sorrow to Mance's eyes. Something he would have to seek words about at a later date.

"Kratos!" he shouted, to get the man's attention. He stopped in the midst of a correcting Atrea's stance and came striding up.

"Mance, what is the matter?" every word sound gruff, but Mance knew it was just the way of his voice.

"I desired a discussion. There are great many things that need be said, plans that need fine carving and details that need to be finer still."

"Hmmm. That is enough girl. We will continue on the morrow." Kratos turned and said to his ward. She seemed to deflate a little and suddenly look so tired. She crawled over to them and asked.

"…Where should I wait?" she asked, not timidly but a little quiet.

"Find the old woman, fill your belly you have done well." She nodded at that then nodded at Mance and strolled off.

They watched her go for a while. "Come. Let us have those words." Kratos ordered and walked to the Weirwood and took a seat on one of the exceptionally large roots and motioned for Mance to do the same. So, he did and just gazed at their surroundings for a bit. He looked to kratos and saw he was looking straight at him. his gaze did not wander, that was another thing Mance noticed about him.

His gaze fell to the blades at Kratos' hips. "I have never seen you use those weapons of yours." An open-ended statement, meant to coax conversation out of the normally quiet man.

"These…blades, only cause destruction. When I use them, you would be wise to not be anywhere in my immediate surroundings. They are curse, but one I brought upon myself." He said very seriously.

"…Why would a man subject himself to such pain? Why not just, discard of the tools and be done with it?"

"I can no more discard them than I can discard my own head. No, they can never leave me."

"Men either do not care about their sins or atone for them. You seem to be carrying your sins around with you." Mance observed.

"Men pay for their sins with their lives…. I will never die." Kratos said with sorrow lacing through his voice.

Mance stared at him for a while, trying to come to terms with the revelation. "So, it is true then? You are…an Old God? He asked almost hesitantly. He was not sure what answer he wanted to hear.

"I…am old, yes. And I am indeed a God."

Mance's head was a hurricane of thoughts and implications. The confirmation he equal parts dreaded and anticipated. What does this mean? He was never a very pious man. He didn't deny the existence of the Gods, but he thought of them more as an idea than actual beings that could interact with the common people.

He had suspected, like many others, that Kratos was something else. Blessed by the Gods may-haps but to be a God in the Flesh is something he dared not believe possible. he tried his best to calm his distraught mind. Looking to Kratos he found his stern gaze studying him. No doubt looking for his reaction to the news. Mance prided himself on being levelheaded and reasonable, to an extent. But was he supposed to take this information and still remain stable. He shook his head. Every conversation with Kratos felt a test.

He shook is head again to clear it and cleared his throat. "Wh-why have you come to this mortal realm?"

"…as I said before, it is where I appeared."

"Appeared? From where the realm of the Gods?" Mance asked, his curiosity overriding his mind, so he forgets his proximity to an actual God.

"That is an apt description of my previous location. There were …complications. None which I wish to speak of. These are not the words you claimed to have wanted."

"Aye, true enough." He nodded after a while of just staring at him. "When are we to make our way south?"

"When the men have been sufficiently trained."

"And what would you consider sufficient? They lack the proper arms to be anything close to formidable."

"When they are disciplined enough to follow orders on the field without question."

"It will take much more than the time we have to instill discipline into these lot. They are too used to be free and wild."

"Time is indeed an issue. But we will use what is available to us…six moons. We will begin the journey in six moons. By then the men would have been comfortably gained some level order."

There was nothing comfortable about it in Mance's eyes. The captains were not giving them an ounce of leeway. He would be surprised if half of them didn't just die from Val's gaze alone. An amusing thought.

"You have turned your captains in to slave drivers."

"I have turned them into Spartan soldiers. Their profession from hence forth is war. They have endured harshness in these woods and are stronger for it." Kratos said with conviction.

"Aye, no doubt about that. They are the strongest in this camp now. Besides yourself of course."

"I should not be the standard. I am not a regular man, and no man will ever be as strong as me. You should not thrive towards it."

"And neither will I. I am a simple man. I know what I am capable of, and I am comfortable with it. My bones are getting old. My fighting days are soon behind me." Mance said light heartedly.

"Hmmm."

"I will return to camp, see to the food situation. We have more than we would, courtesy of you and your captains but it will never be enough."

"…Do as you must. Make sure it lasts."

"Aye." Mance walked away from Kratos and towards the camp. To make himself useful again.

-Line Break-

It's been eight moos now since he's been in this camp and the preparations to begin moving south were just coming to a head. Most of the fighting force would move before the rest of the population while a party of five thousand would cover their backs.

Kratos himself would be riding at the back of the main force. His Captains had the men marching in legions of a thousand, so the entire army stretched to the horizon. He walked through the camp and saw the people busy themselves with preparation. Folding up tents and packing away wares. The efficiency they did so with displayed just how much the people had changed over the period he was present in their lives.

Most of the camp had taken to calling themselves Spartans and he had taken advantage of this. He had warned them to not take such a proclamation lightly, that being a spartan meant discipline, efficiency, and integrity. They had taken his words to heart mostly and began to behave differently, where it pertains to each other. Of course, there were those who were forever enemies to progress and did the best they could to undermine his efforts. They had been dealt with swiftly and publicly

Kratos had no patience for descension. He was no tyrant, but he would have his efforts to turn these people into halfway decent folks be supplanted without just cause. What has he done so far? He has only tried to help. He has not been cruel, and he was not staring them to their doom. Where they were headed, they needed the sense of oneness he had beaten into them.

They would be needed to be seen as a people rather than wild beasts for any form of negotiations to take place. And that's what he had doe for them. He had given them a personality. And security. They would not bow to any lord or king. They differed to Kratos himself, but he would not have them bow to him. a God he may be, but vain he was not.

He made it to the tent of old woman and did not announce himself. He just went in. he found the old woman surrounded by a gaggle of other younger ones who when he came in, immediately stood, and held their heads down. He was not comfortable with this, but he knew it was futile to demand anything else. They were zealots.

He searched the tent for what he came for and saw her sitting by the old woman.

"Atrea, prepare yourself. You will be riding with me."

"Go child, The Lord has taken a familial interest in you. Do not dally." The old woman said with urgency in her voice. Atrea got up with a smile on her face and made for her clothes or at least what Kratos thought was her clothes. He waited for her to get done then turned to leave the tent.

"Great Lord, might I have a word?" he heard the old woman call. He was not sure he wanted to entertain her, but she has been integral in enforcing his reform upon the folk of the camp. So, he gave her his attention. "There is a raven, you must be keen of."

"…. A raven?" Kratos asked in incredulity.

"Aye, a raven. This raven is like any other. All black feathers and two wings but it has three eyes." She said ominously. Witches and their riddles, Kratos never had much luck with them. So, he avoided them where he could. He stared at her for a while to she if she has anything else to say but she just wore that knowing smirk on her face.

He grunted and walked away, her riddles would not waste his time this day.

They were on the move now. The company was steadily making time through the haunted forest. The civilian population was a day behind them, and a half legion was bringing up the rear a day behind them.

They had no horses. The mammoths were used as beasts of burden, pulling make-shift sleds and so forth. Following closely behind him was the girl…Atrea. In the past eight moons he had grown attached to her, he knew why. It was a dangerous position to be in though. Those he gained compassion for never last.

It was his lot in this long life of his. To never have anyone, for when he does, they are swiftly taken away from him. not being one to dwell, he moved on from his losses. But such experiences had a way of governing one's decisions forever more. So, as an effect of this he initially kept her at arm's length.

A foolish thing. Faye would have had his hide were she not in the Afterlife. Here was a child who lost all, who was in need of guidance, a connection. This harsh world would chew her up and swallow her. Well, not while he drew breath. He would make her into a natural disaster, an active volcano. She would not only survive in this world, she would thrive.

"Girl. Have you eaten?" he asked her.

"Aye." Her reply was sharp and succinct. His influence he believes. As the major figure in her life for the last eight moons, it was not surprising that she would emulate him.

"The journey ahead will be long and arduous. Are you prepared?"

"…I have to be." A satisfactory answer, for she was right. The choice was taken from her, like so much else.

He saw Mance coming from further up the line, an intentionally neutral look on his face.

"Kratos, Atrea." He greeted after reaching them.

"There is a waypoint we will stop to rest and collect our bearings before moving on." He said with some hesitance.

"That is a common logistical stratagem. What is the importance of this particular waypoint?"

"Well…the location belongs to man, Craster he's called, nasty, unsavory fellow."

"We are not short on unsavory men." Kratos pointed out impatiently.

"He lives with his wives…who are also his daughters." Kratos' face gained a stone-like quality at that revelation. Mance did not notice. "He is the only male there. He marries his daughters when they come of age, begets more daughters and does it all over again."

"He has no sons?"

"None."

"Do you know what the odds are for a man to get only daughters after…How many daughters does he have?"

"At least a dozen." Kratos' face became even harder. Would he never be free of the taint that is fathers who kill their sons? Must the tragedies of his past haunt him forever?

"I will speak true to you kratos. I mean to kill the vile man. He is a beast for the things he does. Forcing his daughters to bed with him or brave the harsh wilderness alone and starve or be eaten by predators. That is not even to mention what might have been the fate of any male offspring the produced."

"You waste your words Mance. I would have killed him for any one of those atrocities alone." Mance glanced at his face and must have seen his conviction. He only nodded and said nothing else, held his head straight and walked beside them quietly.

-Line Break-

They came to a keep in a clearing surrounded by trees that had a pen with horses in it. She had never seen a complete keep before. Only the ruins in Hardhome, which they said were destroyed before even her Ma was born. There were women and female children milling about, conducting various chores. There was a plump and stout grey-haired man standing at the main door to the house. He seemed to be waiting, as if he were expecting them. Well, she doubted anyone would miss an army camping not far from their home.

The main army was told to stay away from this house. It was only her, Mance, Val, Tormund, and her…. Lord, that was heading towards the house. This was the furthest she has ever been south, and she was close enough to see he wall looming in the distance. The most amazing thing has ever seen for sure. Well, second only to her…Lord. She had trouble addressing him sometimes. Everyone else held him in such high regard, and why shouldn't they? He was a God!

To them at least. To her she was something much more important than a God. He was alive. And he cared about her, that much she can tell. She may only be one and ten name days but in these lands that was old enough to take care of yourself or die. She would have been ignored and expected to fend for herself. She may-haps would have died actually. But he had shielded her from that fate and continues to shield her and is teaching her to shield herself. People treat her differently because of it, she knew. There were men in the camp who wouldn't hesitate to rape a young girl with no Ma or Da to protect her. Her Lord knew this, and he never let her out of his sight for any extended periods of time.

She felt safe and even though he was a hard and gruff man. He would not hurt or abandon her and that was everything to her. She still dreamt of her parents at night and sometimes wake screaming in the night. Whenever this happened and she sought him out he was always there. He offered no words of comfort. But his unmoving presence was enough.

It was known to her that her Lord didn't like the man they were about to greet, and blood was to be expected. Death still bothered a bit for true, but not as much as it used to. She knew she will never lose the most important person to her again. Who could take him away? No, death will never be an issue for her again.

"Mance, why do you have a fucking army at my doorsteps?" the man said as they got close enough to hear them. His voice was gravely and disturbing.

"Hardly your doorsteps Craster. You cant even see them from here." Mance replied.

"One of my wives saw them good enough. Scared her half to death. I don't want none of your Fucking men ogling any my girls, ye hear me!" he yelled with spittle flying from his mouth the few girls who were standing next to him flinched. 'What a disgusting man' she couldn't help but think.

She saw him look in her direction and had a look of concentration on his face. She shook her head. If the foolish man said whatever he's thinking he would surely die. But he is foolish, so she expected his blunder. He not who he stood in the presence of.

"That one looks young enough to train. Ye give her to me, and I'll feed and board ya." The dead man.

She saw her …lord, shift from his position and walked to the forefront. "Put your eyes back into your head worm." He growled out, sounding as if a mountain could talk.

"Oi! Mance! Control ye fucking brutes. He thinks he can talk to me like that. Wants I leave ye out here to freeze ya cocks off." He shouted in indignation.

"I can't control this one Craster. I no longer run this band. This is Kratos, the King-beyond-The-Wall and you were just making eyes at what is essentially his daughter." Her heart jumped at hearing those words. She hadn't wanted to hope, but her lord didn't move to deny the statement.

"Wh-I-I-That is to say-I didn't reali- "

"Spare me your whimpering. I have a question." Her lord said aggressively.

"of course! Of course!" eager the make amends. Walking to his death willingly.

"What did you do to the sons that were born to you?" the women by his side held their hands over their mouths to hide their cries but she noticed them. The man himself became shifty and started sweating awfully. Odd, they were surrounded by snow and cold winds. His eyes darted around looking for some escape and he began to stutter while backing slowly into the house.

He made a mad dash inside, but her lord was quicker and grabbed his leg and pulled him by it, on his belly, back outside and flung him into a post.

"You cannot run from me."

"Leave me be! I have made no trouble with you! Leave me to my life and my wives. Don't interfere in another mans do-how!" he wailed, while trying to crawl away.

"The sons worm!" her lord was shouting now. He was angry. There seemed to be a sort of steam coming off of him, but she might be mistaken.

"What do I need sons for? To grow and feel as if they can rule my home!" her Lord stepped on his foot and broke it and he screamed but refused to answer the questions. She felt a tug on her furs and turned to see one of the smaller girls trying to get her attention. She was not dressed for the cold at all. She was wearing old rags and her hair was dirty brown. She looked to be around eight or nine name days, just a bit younger than her.

She bent at the waist a little to put her ears by the girl's mouth because she was taller than normal.

"What is it little one?" she asked softly not to scare her.

"He brings the boys to woods, says he sacrifice them to the gods, says it keep us safe." Her veins ran cold as ice, and she just stood there dumbfounded for a minute. Her Lord needed to know about this. She turns around swiftly to call to him and notices he has the man by throat dangling.

"Lord!... my Lord!... Lord Kratos…Father!" that certainly seemed to have gotten his attention. She couldn't believe she actually said that, but it was too late turn back now. He looked to her sharply and expectantly. "I know what happened to the boys." She said to him. he let go of the man who fell into a pile on the ground coughing and groaning.

"What did you hear girl?" Girl, never her name, but she knows it was just how he was.

"The little one here said he brings the boys in the woods, sacrifices them to some gods or something, for protection."

"By all the Gods, tell me the man hasn't been given them to White walkers!" she heard Mance piece together in outrage. Every one's face instantly became creased with anger and disgust while the women were openly sobbing now.

"The mad fucker must have been using his horse's shit for his brain." Tormund said with wide eyes.

Her Lord came over to the little girl and asked her name. "I-I-I'm called Tanzee great sir." She answered timidly.

"Is this the truth girl?" he asked her sternly but kindly. His answer, however, came from one of the sobbing women.

"It's the Truth Great King…he be taken our babies... Saying they need be sacrificed for protection... Said he had no need for boys anyways." She said between sobs.

Her lord looked murderous after that confirmation. He rounded on the man still down on his back and kicked him in his ribs. He left him to groan and went to the pen and took some rope. He brought it and tied it around the man's neck and threw the other end over a tall branch in a tree near to them and pulled. The man was pulled off his feet, kicking, shaking, and trying to get the rope from around his neck, while her lord only planted himself with rope in his hand and watched as the man died slowly.

"We have no need of you." He said when he finally kicked his last. and tied the rope around the trunk of the tree so he would stay there, swinging, for everyone to see. The women were all crying tears, but Atrea had a feeling that they were not mourning him. but are happy he was gone.

Her lord had ordered the ladies move all of there belongings and head towards the camp. If they were to cross the wall, he would not leave them to fend for themselves. He also ordered the keep burnt to the ground when all resources were removed from it.

"Girl. Attend me." He had said and she followed him as he walked away leaving Mance and the others to see to the tasks. She had to run a little to catch up to him, but he kept walking until they were further away from the others. They walked mostly in silence until he said something.

"You called me father." He said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"I am sorry Lord, I only wished to ge- "

"I do not mind. I…would like it if you continued to do so." She paused for a moment, not believing what she was hearing. Her heart swelled and pounded in her chest and her eyes watered. She ran into him and wrapped her hands around hid torso in a tight hug. He patted her head awkwardly. When she detached herself from him, he stared at her a while.

"Tomorrow is your name day, yes?"

"Aye," he remembered. Could this day be anymore great? As she thought that she saw him reach up took his bow from around himself and stroked the wood that made it before pushing it into her hands.

"I have thought you how to use this bow. It is yours now." Her head felt light, and she wanted to cry but she didn't. she pulled the bow to her chest and nodded. He studied her for a while then nodded as well and the turned and continue their trek back to the main camp.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

So, I was overseas for a funeral. Sorry the chapter took so long. Anyway, hope you enjoy, stay tuned.

-The Basilisk