Chapter 44: Bridges Crossed
Forward: Editing credit to Rainsfere.
…
Early Mid-Day – Eastern Edge of Skirling Pass – Jon
Jon sighed as he arched his neck back, eyes closed to enjoy the warm sun shining high in the sky. It was a good sign that the sky was clear, letting rare warmth grace the land beyond the Wall. Opening his eyes, he glanced around the wide snowy pass they were passing through, a secluded route back towards the Fist of the First Men. Jon had detailed that was where the Great Ranging was based at during his questioning with Mance, gaining further trust with the Wildling 'king'. A few days ago a massive snow storm had swept into that region, an ill omen from the Wildlings perspective. Usually with the storm, the dead often followed with it. If so they had to see what had happened to the Night's Watch gathered there…if there was anyone left at all.
Spread out across the pass were the rest of the scouting party, close to twenty Free Folk along with two giants leading one of their mammoths along. Mance was also leading the group, seeming intent on seeing what was going on at the Fist for himself. Normally, it would be hard to pick the man out among the other Wildlings since he wore the same winter garb, though the two giants following close by hinted where he was. Currently he was talking to Tormund, the Lord of Bones and other notable Wildling leaders.
Ever since being taken in by the Free Folk, he had taken the time to learn as much as he could about them. Considering all his life he had been told that they were disorganized savages, this was the time to see the truth. If anything the Free Folk didn't seem to have any hate towards the people of the North as many claimed, seeming to save that anger towards the Night's Watch who hunted them down in their own lands along with keeping them mostly trapped beyond the wall. Still, their culture on raiding was an issue though unlike the Ironborn it was all in the drive to survive instead of profit.
"No white or black, just grays." Jon muttered, now understanding the Witcher's advice. Hearing soft footsteps in the snow, he saw Ghost approaching him, no doubt finishing one of his hunts. "Seems your right at home here though boy." He scratched the dire wolf behind one ear, making the silent beast wag it's tail happily.
The thought of home was a torn one for him. Was it back in Winterfell with the rest of the Starks or back at Castle Black with his friends? At this rate he may very well see the Free Folk in the same light, at least some of them.
"Wait up Jon!" Ygritte's witty voice called out, making him glance back to see her hurrying through the snow towards him.
If there was one boon being out in this harsh land it was the spearwife. In a way she had been his handler after being accepted by Mance, no doubt knowing the growing fondness between them. During the following weeks they had started to camp closer to each other until they were sharing the same bedroll though…simply to huddle up during the cold nights. He knew thought that she was trying to be inviting…tempting to him. Now he was understanding what both Geralt and Tyrion meant, at least on the emotional feeling.
Soon Ygritte was walking beside him, her trusty bow slung behind her shoulder while she reached down to scratch Ghost behind one ear. Even the dire wolf was warming up to her company. "Seems like Ghost here doesn't mind me."
"They say an animal companion reflects their master in some ways." Jon remarked as Ghost did give a short lick to Ygritte's hand.
"Oh? Does that mean I've charmed the stoic Jon Snow?" She slyly teased, her hand going up to touch at along his right arm. With the air chilly, it did make the faint blush on Jon's face show more clearly, making the Wildling woman grin in amusement.
"We're just good friends that's all." He tried to say politely, though got a small nudge to the ribs from her.
"Heh, you really don't know anything do you Jon Snow?" She mocked playfully. "Then again I take it you don't know how courtship works among us Free Folk."
He frowned a bit as she gave that usual jest, which starts over a debate if hot or cold baths were better. Really he felt it was just her own excuse just to tease him. "Well how about you tell me, so I do know." He countered, his tone sarcastic.
"Well…old ways go that if a man desires a woman, he is to steal her from another clan. Course she's expected to fight every step of the way…" She paused a bit fixing a few locks of red hair behind one ear. "I say you won clearly when you had that knife to my throat." The way she talked was more of a purr, making Jon's heart race slightly.
"Wait…so you're saying that we're married because I kidnapped you?" He scoffed, his blush only growing more.
"Hmm, in a manner of speaking." She again purred, seeming to enjoy how flustered he was becoming.
"What, and you didn't tell me this sooner?"
"Because you weren't a Free Folk then…but you are now. Besides, why did you think I was cuddling up all those nights. If you weren't so dense you would've realize sooner."
It was a bit shocking for her to consider him one of them despite being so new. He doubted the other Free Folk saw him in the same way, but from her it was welcoming. Though at the same time it conflicted with the other part of him, the one that was still part of the Night's Watch, even if it was a reluctant one.
"I…uhh…" He started, trying to find the right words only for his glancing gaze to notice the horizon from the open pass. "Look! There's the Fist!" Indeed the rock formation could be seen, a landmark that many considered to be the crossroads of the land beyond the Wall.
While Ygritte sent him an annoyed glare for changing the subject, she eventually sighed as she didn't press the subject. "Aye, seen it a few times passing over to the Haunted Woods. If the First Men really built it, they did a shoddy job."
Her jest made Jon chuckle. "It's not Winterfell that's for sure. If it is as old as they say, I think it's more of nature being unkind to it." Still it was a fortified position which did give the smaller number of the Night's Watch an edge. With the surrounding region also so flat, it'd be easy to spot an enemy force from a fair distance.
"Not worried about your former brothers are you?"
"Aye…some of them." He said after a moment of pause, gaze set straight ahead. "Like it is with the Free Folk, the Watch has its own share of good and bad people. The good ones don't deserve to be out here, that is for sure."
Ygritte didn't answer back, making Jon look at her to see an unexpected look from her. It was almost a sad pondering, perhaps from the sincere tone he had. She quickly realized how he stared at her, snapping to attention. "Heh talk like that around the wrong folk and they'll really think you're a softy." She jested, trying to move on the topic.
Jon didn't press on what she really thought, just smirking back. "Then I'm glad you don't see me that way." His counter jest again got him a nudge to the ribs, though chuckled through the minor ache.
"Alright enough flirting around Crow boy." The gruff voice of Tormund made both of them look to the left to see the gruff ginger Wildling. Despite his tone, there was an amused look hinting that bearded face of his. "Mance wants you with him scouting the Fist. Seems to think you'll give some insights on what's happened."
"Very well…" Looking to Ygritte, she shrugged before patting him on the shoulder. "Watch yourself Jon." With a parting grin, she walked off to join one of the other groups, which no doubt had their own orders to follow.
After watching her for a moment, Jon at last followed Tormund over to the Mance's group, which was set at the edge of a cliff face that overlooked the area. Getting closer made the watching giants all the more imposing, though he kept his calm the whole time. Being close enough, he could pick out Mance among the other Free Folk, the man having a battered spyglass out facing towards the Fist.
"Either the Watch has dug in deep or they've packed up." He muttered to the others.
"Not a hint of smoke as well." The Lord of Bones added. "Careful as the rangers are, even they know hiding a fire out here is impossible to do. Besides…Mag here caught a whiff from all the way here."
The largest of the giants, the one who led the mammoth gave a low grunt, more of a reply than a show of annoyance. From what Jon knew, Mag the Mighty was considered the leader of the giants and one of the most loyal to Mance's cause because of the complete loss of their territory to the White Walker threat.
With a sigh, Mance put away his spyglass before glancing over to Jon at last, gesturing him to come closer beside him. "So then Jon, any insights to share?"
He felt everyone's eyes on him, making things quite tense for the moment. "My guess is the Great Ranging has left." He started, getting a few questioning looks. "The thing is if the Watch were still here we'd know already. They have lookouts all across the valley, not just at the Fist, ready to alert of anyone arriving."
"Aye…that makes sense. Use horns to signal who approaches. One blast for Watch, two for Free Folk and three for the White Walkers."
Jon simply nodded back. He forgets at times that Mance had served in the Night's Watch for years, so he knew a lot about their methods. That just meant he was all the more unpredictable towards whatever plan he had in bypassing both the Watch and the Wall. "Since they haven't blown any horns, it's most likely the Great Ranging has left."
Tormund gave a small grunt along with a questioning look. "Why you say that? They could be waiting to ambush us."
"Except there is no point to that." Jon countered. "The Ranging wasn't a war party but a massive scouting mission. We've already lost some of our best rangers my…uncle included." There had still been no hint of Benjin, even from what the Wildlings knew. It made him all the more worried for his uncle's fate. "To them they'd think our group is a raiding party, even more with us having giants. It'd be better to try scaring us off. After all, Free Folk aren't the most tactical fighters, relying more on surprise."
"What that supposed to mean boy?" The Lord of Bones growled, finding his words an insult. Only Mance giving a stern glare stopping any argument.
"Jon is right. Despite how much the Night's Watch has fallen, they have a better advantage in a prepared fight. Even more if they have new weapons on their side."
The bone clad Wildling gave a questioning look on the last detail, though Tormund nodded slightly in agreement. He had after all been there when Jon was pressured to share the details about Geralt, both on his time at Winterfell and at Castle Black. The news about the Night's Watch getting supplies through the writs donated along with blueprints for weapons the Witcher shared. This information proved to be invaluable to Mance since he underestimated the Watch's current strength.
"Then why don't we pay a visit? Seem if anyone is still home?" Tormund suggested with a grin.
Mance nodded in agreement before muttering something to one of the Free Folk, who quickly hurried off to the other groups. "We'll head directly for the Fist while the rest spread out across the area. If the Ranging has moved on, there will be a trail left behind even if it was near a week ago." Already the man was moving for the sloop down to the valley, the group moving along with him.
"What they hell did he mean?" The Lord of Bones muttered at Jon.
"When we get close enough, we'll most likely see." The young man shrugged as he hurried forward to keep pace with Mance.
The march towards the looming rock was a silent one. Jon could tell that the Wildlings were tense, ready for an ambush or traps. Afterall they had been fighting with the Night's Watch for hundreds of years, so for them it was normal to be this alert. As they were approaching from the west, they soon had a clearer view of the northern side.
"What the fuck…" Tormund muttered, the warrior showing a rare moment of bewilderment. Spread across the rocky cliffside was the site of a battle, though the aftermath was unlike anything Jon or the Wildlings had seen. Despite the snow fall from the last few days, dried blood stains and body parts were scattered all around. There were small craters in the earth and rock scorched by intense heat. Arrows were riddled all over the place along with plenty of discarded weapons, mainly rusty broken ones that wights lugged around.
"Yah…the dead were here for sure…" The Lord of Bones muttered, crouching down to pick up one withered arm, shaking it as if expecting it to move. "Must have been days ago. No twitching limbs from what I can tell."
Tormund chuckled as he kicked up some snow to reveal a wight torso that was missing most of its limbs, including the head. "Quite the mess here. Heh, nearly as good as my work." He remarked as he examined the remains more closely. "Ugh…these wights seems a bit cooked considering, at least with what meat they got left on them."
"Also where did all these holes come from. Don't seem to be trenches or pitfalls." Another Wildling remarked, as he scrapped his boot along one burned ridge of the hole he looked over.
Mance was silent as he let everyone mutter among themselves, though the sharp look in his eyes showed he knew very well what happened here. It was all part of him silently urging Jon to explain it all to the whole group.
"Alchemy." The blunt answer made everyone look at him oddly, showing the Wildlings never heard of the term. "You know…like medicine, but in this case used as weapon."
"What…like magic?" One Wildling asked, obviously confused.
"Its…ah…hard to explain." Jon scratched the back of his head in thought. "It involved getting powders and minerals mixed together then put into a ceramic or metal container. Don't know the details beyond that, the Maester and his assistants did all the work." He explained. "Point is, you light a fuse and throw it by hand or sling. Moments later it well…explodes, fire and bits that could kill a man in plate along with maiming anyone near half a dozen paces away."
"Heh, thought you were lying when you mentioned that." Tormund muttered as he paced around the battle site. "Yet the results don't lie. Don't know how big this horde was but it had to be into the hundreds at least, not counting whatever beasts involved."
"Exploding fire…bullshit…" The Lord of Bones muttered.
Mance though had his gaze set towards the rocky base higher up the hill. "Let's see what's left of the camps, find some more clues. Best be light with your step, the Watch likes leaving caltrops hidden under the snow." After that warning, he turned to the giants. "Mag, it'll be best if you and your guard stay here. Keep watch over the valley for any trouble. Besides, not much space for your kind further up."
The giant grunted something in his own language along with giving a nod, agreeing with the directions.
The rest of the group moved up the slope, Mance at the lead with Tormund alongside. Jon was close behind, partly trying to listen in on anything the two muttered while also keeping an eye on their surroundings. While the rocky terrain here offered natural defenses, there were signs of wooden fortifications, barriers the Watch had built. Most were torn apart or even smashed by something quite big, making him wonder if this horde had a giant with them.
Passing the breached defenses, the group were at the direct base of the Fist itself. It could be best described as a ring that circled the whole formation with caves and tunnels set all around. There were more signs of fighting, be it dried blood strains or gore marking across the rock face. Since the Fist offered cover from snowfall, the ground here clearly showed footprints which gave a vague detail on the Watch being pushed back while the tide of dead followed.
"Horde must have been big…hundreds or thousands at least." Tormund muttered. "Always hard to tell without being there to see it."
"The dead don't know fear or feel pain. They're truly relentless." Mance said grimly as the group reached what must have been the central defense. The fighting must have been intense considering the scattered body parts and gore, along with supplies left behind. "Search for anything useful, especially for these weapons. Doubt they had enough time to pack them all."
Everyone started to spread out, picking up dropped weapons or exploring the few caves lining the rockface. For the moment, attention was spread out, giving Jon the chance to search freely. He slipped over to one of the smaller caves, little more than a cracked opening leading into a smaller chamber, with Ghost silently following him in. Everyone was more focused on the more obvious caverns, thinking that was where supplies were stored. In truth the most valuables things were tucked away in these small spaces.
At a glance, the small chamber had nothing, either having not been used or was cleared out during the attack. "Did they leave it…" Jon moved to the back of the cave, shifting down to his knees before moving aside some rubble to reveal a crack low to the wall. Reaching under, he grasped about blindly until he felt the leather bound case, an old liquor box. Pulling it out, Jon opened the case to reveal the contents, leather wrapped orbs with fuses. There was only eight left, showing the Watch had given out some yet forgotten the rest of the case. There were also bound steel and flint that Aemon had made, clickers that could let one create a part with one hand. "Damn…not a lot but…" Before he could finish though, he heard Ghost snarl in warning, making him quickly stand up gripping Longclaw.
"But what crow?" Tormund muttered, one hand holding an axe, eyeing both Ghost and him tensely. "Didn't think I'd miss you slipping away. Should have known you knew where the good stuff was."
Again Ghost growled, seeming ready to attack, though Jon had one hand out. "Calm down Ghost." He eased his grip on his sword, hands up slightly. "Maybe I did…but didn't want to say anything until I was sure."
"Heh…more like pocketed or destroyed whatever's in that case." Tormund stepped closer, his ax low though Jon knew how fast the man could swing. "What is it then? Medicine? Plans? Maybe some of those weapons you've told us about." There was a tense pause as he glanced down at the case, yet before he could do anything else there was a monstrous roar from outside.
"Snow bear! WIGHT SNOW BE- AAYYGHHH!" The yelled warning was cut short, followed by pained screaming and then fleshy crunching.
Jon couldn't help but feel pale, having heard of the overwhelming strength a snow bear had which only enhanced further being undead. He could even see Tormund flexing his grip on his weapon, staring to the exit of the cave as he seemed ready to charge out.
"Wait!" His quick remark stopped the Wildling from rushing off before he opened up the box to pick out two bombs and flints. "Going to need these if we're going to stop that thing."
"Bloody knew it…" Tormund started, only shutting up when he had a bomb and flint shoved into his arms.
"Listen to me, because if you mess up your going to blow yourself up." Jon warned. "When you light that fuse you have about the count of six until it goes off. Lob it over head for range, throw it front wise like a knife for accuracy." More pains yells came from outside, the bear no doubt mauling everything in its path.
The look on Tormund's face showed he didn't like taking orders from younger man, only giving a grunt and nod of understanding. "Fine boy…but this isn't over." Taking the lead, he hurried through the cavern gap leading back outside.
Jon followed with Ghost behind him, at least seeing the carnage. A whole torso laid haphazardly against the nearby wall, the blood splattering showing off the impact. While the gory sight made fear race through him, he gritted through it as he stared down the snarling beast in the middle abandoned camp.
It was about ten feet tall on all fours, a mass of dense white fur along with hundreds of pounds of frost rotting flesh, muscle and sinew. Its body was battle worn with a mix of arrows, spear shafts and even swords sticking out of it. The most notable injury was to it's head and neck, with over half it's face peeled off to reveal it's skull, along with one eye completely gone from a deep cleave to the socket. The remaining eye glowed a cool blue color like all other wights, false spark of life filled with hate…at least from his point of view. The last notable injury it had was a longsword still embedded deep into it's neck, with the severed hand of it's wielder holding it in a death grip still.
The undead beast roared, snapping Jon into action as lunged at him. One massive paw slung out, raking across the stone wall where he had just stood. With some space between him and the wight, he could see the other Wildlings trying to rally up with Mance getting organizing the long spearmen. They no doubt planned to retreat until the giants came to their aid but that could be a minute at least.
"Hey!" Tormund's voice yelled out, drawing the bear's attention to him. The ginger haired warrior had climbed up a large rock the lined the ridge edge, a wide grin as he had his bomb at the ready. "Right here beasty!"
The snow bear charged at him, Tormund having planned well since the rock gave him some defense against the undead animal. Quickly he sparked his bomb before roaring as he chucked it soon after, aiming to land in its path.
"No…too soon!" Jon's muttered judgement was right as the bear proved too fast, the bomb blowing up at it's hindquarters instead of the front. The blast though did stagger the beast, at least one of it's rear legs blown off.
The explosion though did startle Tormund, who nearly tumbled off his rock, cursing as he barely regained his footing. "Ah fuck!" The bear still attacked at him, it's massive body rearing up partly before slamming against the rock, crawling up it while Tormund drew one of his axes. He hacked about, roaring back as he barely kept the best from mauling him.
Jon knew Tormund only could hold out for a few moments, so he had to end this battle decisively or they were both likely to die to this monster. Jon tucked his bomb away, since while the bear was distracted, a blast that close would most likely kill Tormund as well. A quick glance to Ghost was all the direwolf needed to quietly rush forward, going for the bear's flank.
Drawing Longclaw, Jon charged at the bear's left side which suffered the most from Tormund's bomb. He only yelled out when he was close, drawing the bear's glowing eye onto him. At that same moment Ghost leaped onto the bear's back, powerful jaws crushing down at the nip of the neck, head thrashing as the direwolf tried to snap spine there. With its attention torn between two attackers, the bear thrashing trying to throw Ghost off which give Jon a clear opening to slash out with his sword. Valyrian steel cut through the dense layers of the bear's rotting form, yet the creature seemingly reacted to this attack. It roared as if in pain, rearing up as the gap at its broad chest spilled what decaying guts it had left. With shocking speed the bear lashed out with one paw, which would have swiped off his head if Tormund hadn't jump tackled them both to the ground.
"Ugh! Less gawking more fighting!" His wide eyed look was the warning Jon needed as both rolled to separate directions as the wight slammed down, trying to crush them both. Ghost at that point was forced off, the dire wolf quickly retreating back to them as they staggered back onto their feet. "Never seen a wight react like that. Must be that fancy sword of yours…" Tormund muttered, the bear staring them down. Despite how mindless it seemed moments ago, there was some growing intelligence in the undead beast as it
"Well, I doubt it's going to let me hack it to bits." Jon muttered back, mind rapidly trying to think of a new plan. The realization came quickly as he looked at the bear's gaping chest wound. "I'm going to keep it focused on me. When you see a big enough opening, throw right at it." He slipped his bomb over to the Wildling who gave an odd look at him.
"Can't tell if your being literal or not…" Though as he eyed the snow bear, he soon realized and gave a wide grin. "Crazy crow…fine, just don't get mauled first."
Jon just nodded as he rushed at the near, angling towards it's more injured side while Ghost again circled for the flank. The snow bear wight roared as it lashed out, using its powerful paws instead of lunging in with its jaws, being wary of Longclaw. He backstepped whenever the beast swiped, putting as much distance as he could while being able to slash out with his blade. He landed a few cuts across it's limbs, the beast growling and snarling as his blade seemingly harmed it more. Ghost meanwhile grabbed at it's good leg at it's flank, the direwolf yanking and thrashing to limit the bear's movement. With the creature off-balance, Jon saw the opening he needed as he stepped in, slashing diagonally to split the chest wound wider.
Tormund saw the opening and gave a fierce yell to warn Jon who dashed away just as the Wildling chucked his flaming bomb at the bear. His straight throw was true as it sunk deep into the gaping chest wound of the bear who gave one last defiant roar which was cut short by a resounding boom! Most of the undead beast's body blasted out, head flying off it's next while massive chunks of rotting flesh splattered across the ground. The broken body laid in pieces, the creature seemed quite dead now.
"Heh…think I found a new way of hunting." Tormund chuckled to Jon who was doubled over panting, the adrenaline burned out of him after that intense fight.
There wasn't much time for chat as both of their attention focused on the other Free Folk who were returning, having watched the fight from afar with Mance at the lead. "Well…good to see these bombs in action. No wonder the Watch seemed to put up quite the fight up here." He remarked, going over to pat Jon on the shoulder as he recovered. "Get some water and a bit ale for them both! Also let's get the dead taken care of. I don't want any more surprises!"
"What…where that thing come from?" Jon muttered, taking a deep drink from an offered waterskin.
"It was further along the pathway around the east side of the Fist. Must have fallen dormant after the battle from all the punishment it took." Mance sighed as already the dead were being collected. "Four men dead in less than a minute. Who knows how many of those they have, along with every other beast that they raise up."
By now, all the dead were being piled around the blasted remains of the bear, salvaged oil from the camps being spread around before a flame sparked to set it all alight. Some of the Wildlings were still shaken from the attack along with seeing those bombs in action. Tormund was about trying to motivate the Free Folk with his boisterous attitude, getting everyone focused once more.
"So you knew where some of those bombs were then?" Mance spoke up, drawing Jon's attention back to him.
"Aye. I didn't think be wise to share it earlier. Didn't want to seem misleading if nothing was found."
The Free Folk leader stared calmly back, nodding slightly in thought. "Reasonable. Besides the ones you used, are there more left?"
Jon nodded, gesturing to the small cave he had entered. "Should be a case with six left. Do know other spots we can check, but doubt we'll find much more."
"It will do. We have some cunning individuals among the tribes. Sure once they examine these weapons, they may figure a way to build more." Mance directed two of his men to go to the cave to retrieve the case while he lead Jon towards the edge of the ridge towards the eastern end, looking out to the Haunted Forest in the southeast. "So…what would the Watch do if the Fist was overrun?"
"A full retreat back to Castle Black, though I'm sure you knew that already." Jon muttered back. "Point is the Great Ranging was a failure. The Night's Watch lost some of its best out scouting while the dead took care of the rest." His gaze glanced back at Mance. "Seems like all in your favor."
"Aye…it is." Mance agreed. "I knew the Watch get riled up with so many of my people braving the wall, be it on my orders or their own desperation. Add that your uncle's disappearance…the Ranging was expected." Slowly he paced along the edge, a long tumble down the rocky slope, a lethal one for sure.
The mention of Benjen did make Jon tense slightly. Despite his grievances with the Night's Watch, he still cared for his uncle. "Your people didn't have a hand in that did they?"
There was no answer at first as Mance kept his gaze locked to the horizon. "No…and thinking about it won't help you, Jon." With that short answer, he changed the subject. "If they fled then they will have trouble in the woods. Weather is going to get rough…and I doubt they have enough supplies to endure the whole trip back."
"So…does that mean this is the Free Folks chance?"
"Aye…soon."
That answer made Jon's heart race a bit. If whatever scheme Mance had was nearing then it had to be stopped. Right now he could kill him…just a hard shove and he'd fall to his doom, maybe use the confusion to escape. The chances were slim and really…would it stop anything? Perhaps that was why Mance was doing this, sharing such information along with putting himself in an exposed position, testing him again and again.
"So then what happens now?"
Again Mance didn't reply at first as he turned to face Jon, giving a faint almost proud smile as he placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "We earn our freedom. With the Watch divided, it is now the perfect chance to take Castle Black and let as many of the Free Folk past the Wall." He led Jon back to the main camp, everyone sorting out all the gathered supplies. Tormund approached them both, an eager grin on his face.
"Found plenty stashed away further back. Real weapons for once."
"Good, because it's time."
The simple remark drew an excited look from the ginger Wildling. "So it's time then…time for war!"
"Aye old friend. Gather your group, including Jon and climb the Wall. You know the spot like we discussed."
It was at that point Jon realized what Mance's plan was, a logical yet risky move. They were going to attack Castle Black where they least expected, from the other side of the Wall! He was certain the leader of the Free Folk had a perfect lure set to ensure the remaining Night's Watch was focused north instead of south as well. The gathered Wildlings were eager with the news, riled up as they were at last about to make their move.
"It's time we show the North that we will not lay down and die quietly!" Mance urged on, making the Wildlings cheer out in agreement. "Because when it is time, I'll light the biggest fire the North has ever seen and it will be a night all the North will remember!'
…
Late Mid-Day – Greywater Watch – Geralt
The last two hours felt drawn out for the Witcher as he listened closely to every word Howland Reed shared. He detailed the harrowing day where Eddard led him and five other loyal companions to a secluded lone tower set on the northern border of Dorne within the Red Mountains. It seemed it was a romantic retreat that Prince Rhaegar had, repurposed in protecting Lyanna Stark during the civil war, mainly from the likes of Robert and his mad father. The tower was guarded by the missing King's Guard which included the Lord Commander at the time along with Arthur Dayne, the legendary knight himself.
"I was damn lucky." Reed had muttered with a faint scowl on his face, one hand clenching along his right side. "I was rash back then. I foolish rushed at Dayne first and nearly got my guts spilled out." The fight had been a brutal one since the King's Guard proved to be worthy of their titles, though Eddard's men cut down the Lord Commander along with the other knight. "It was four against one and Dayne handled them all with ease. Never seen a man fight so quick and slice through armor with such ease, then again Dawn wasn't a normal sword. Point is he cut down everyone until it was just Ned." He shook his head at the memory. "He knew how to fight but could barely hold out against Dayne until he got disarmed." Reed paused as he then looked to his right hand, clenching it. "Arthur paused for just a moment, maybe hesitation in possibly killing the brother of the woman he guarded. I didn't give him a chance to decide though as I stabbed him in the back of the neck." A low grim chuckle followed. "The greatest knight of the era killed by such an underhanded move. Not a heroic end for sure."
His tale continued on about how they heard Lyanna's cries as she had just given birth to Aemon…Jon. "I don't know what caused her to die, complication of giving birth. Only…there was a lot of blood…" The memory had him brush over his bearded chin, the man seeming shaky on the image in his head. "She spoke with Ned in her last moments. Only know what was said from what he told me. Her dying wish was that Jon's true parentage be kept hidden from the world, to protect him from Robert's wrath or any Targaryen loyalists."
"What do you mean? Even if Rhaegar and Lyanna were in love, that still make him officially a bastard since they never married." Geralt questioned.
"Aye…except they were married in secret." Howland replied. "Eddard found his sister's journal at the Tower, detailing everything from her secret romance with the prince and more. Its perhaps one of the few pieces of proof of the boy's legitimacy as a Targaryen, beyond perhaps some dull marriage document buried within the Citadel of Old Town."
"Why didn't Ned destroy it then? Seems risky keeping it."
"You should know well how sentimental Eddard could be. That book was all that was left of his beloved sister. Perhaps he planned to give it to Jon one day even…" The man sighed as he shrugged. "Anyway…that is it really. Jon's half Targayren and Stark, it easily complicate matters on the Iron Throne."
It would be for sure, though Geralt knew at the moment Stannis still had the strongest claim to the throne. The Baratheon's after all had earned their claim through right of conquest, so unless Stannis decided to concede it back to Jon…which just cause more problems than solve them. Just thinking over the issues of succession was already bothering him, so he put such thoughts aside.
"Thank you for sharing all of this Lord Reed. I do apologize for forcing this on you but…"
"Bah…if anything it feels like a great weight is off my shoulders. Keeping such a secret bottled up for twenty years." The gruff lord chuckled quite wearily. "I guess it's time Jon knows the truth…with Eddard gone now." However there was a glare in the man's eyes. "But everything I said is for him alone. You understand? Because if I hear a hint of you blabbing this to anyone-"
"No need for threats Howland. Trust me, not the first time I've had to be tight lipped on secrets." The Witcher assured him. "One thing I do plan is to tell Lady Catelyn about Jon not being Eddard's son…but nothing more. The woman should at least know that truth."
"Ugh…you're being risky sharing that. Bad enough you told Robb, but the lad is practically like his father when it comes to oaths." With a tired sigh, Howland got up from his seat to stroll around the table, heading towards the door out. "Unless there are any more questions, there is nothing more to discuss. We still have a war to take care of."
Geralt got up as well, heading for the door which Reed opened. "One problem at a time. Again, thank you for sharing all of this…even if you drew a blade on me." He offered a hand for a firm shake, Howland chuckling.
"From the way you acted, you're used to such treatment. No hard feelings Geralt." He then gestured down the left side of the hallway. "Anyway, there should be a room for you down that way. Greywater doesn't have the finest chambers, but it beats sleeping on a raft."
"Won't argue with that. Then I'll see you tomorrow at the docks."
With that simple parting, Geralt headed down the hallway, soon finding rows of doors leading to bedrooms. It took him testing a few doors to find a chamber that wasn't taken, the room being small as expected yet having a cozy bed to make up for it. Once changed for sleep, he dropped down onto the bed with a sigh, sleep at least peaceful after the stressful day.
…
The Next Morning
The following morning was a private one for Geralt, who requested breakfast taken to his room. While he enjoyed his companions company, he needed some deserved time to himself, mind still thinking over the truth about Jon. It was a matter he didn't want to overthink, since the outcome on the truth would matter on what the young half-Stark decided to do. Jon deserved to have a choice in deciding in who he was. It was just like what he had urged Ciri in the end, for her to personally decide on if she wished to be a Witcher or to lead Nilfgaard.
"Choices…" Geralt sighed, knowing well how one act at the time may seem like the best, only for it to lash back negatively in the end. It was just what the cynical side in him thought.
Putting such thinking aside as he finished his meal, he sorted out his pack before changing into his usual gear. Walking down the hall, he made his way to the stairway that led downward, ready to meet up with everyone down in the keep's dock. Compared to other castles, Greywater was at least easy to navigate because of its necessary design. Reaching the 'ground' floor of the keep where the great hall and other largest chambers were, the Witcher found Howland speaking with two younger individuals who appeared to resemble him in appearance.
The boy seemed to be about Bran's age, though his youthful face showed a greater maturity to it, especially in those bright green eyes. He was quite thin and pale though, almost as if he were struggling from a prolonged sickness. His choice of clothes matched very much like Howland's, only lacking the armor pieces the man wore.
The girl standing next to him was at least a few years older, being taller than the boy and more physically built. She too was dressed in green, though had leather pieces fitting for a scout or hunter. In one hand she carried a trident while strung around her back was a short bow with a small quiver at her hip. Her stance of confidence reminded him of Arya in a manner.
"Ah…Geralt." Howland spoke up, noticing the Witcher approaching. "I didn't have the chance yesterday to introduce you to my children." He had one hand pap down on the boy's shoulder. "This is Jojen. Don't let his age fool you, the boy has a wisdom that even some elders lack."
"An honor to at last meet you White Wolf." The boy formally greeted, seeming to favor the Witcher's more renowned title.
"And this is my daughter Meera." Howland gestured over to the girl.
Meera gave a small smile back, nodding her head in greeting. "It is good to meet you Ser Geralt."
"Likewise." He politely replied. "Have to admit, it seems the people of the Neck have no issue having women scout and fight from what I've seen. By the looks of it your well into your own training."
The compliment did bring a hint of pride in Meera's eyes before she nodded again. "Father has personally trained me in our ways. Survival, stealth, fighting and more. Among the crannogmen, skill and merit matter the most…not purely upbringing. If I am to lead, I must show that I am capable."
"The brawn to my cunning as some say." Her brother casually jested, earning a small glare from her, though a playful smirk returned. "Anyway, we heard you were about to set off further south and wanted to at least meet you before we departed as well."
"Hmm…planning to go to Winterfell, meet up with Robb's forces directly?"
At that point Howland spoke up. "Not together. I must remain here to ensure preparations are kept on track. My children will be going in my stead."
The details was curious to hear, though made sense in the end. "Young as they may be, both are capable of watching over each other. At the very least, the roads to the North are safe for travel."
"Wonderful news to hear then!" Jojen remarked, before glancing at his sister. "And you were expecting to be crawling through woods and snow."
"Eh, it'd be more fun. A nice change from swamps and bogs." Meera countered back. "A trip on the King's Road sounds like a dull time."
"Alright, enough you two." Howland chuckled, the normally blunt man showing a rare hint of cheerfulness to his children. "We best not delay Geralt any further. Time is short for his group." His urging made both youths nod in understanding. "Nearly everyone should be at the docks by now, so we best head down."
The group followed Howland down the next flight of stairs, reaching the keep's large docks where most of the Winter Wolves were finishing preparing the rafts. Many of the men noticed Geralt's arrival, giving a quick greeting or nod to their leader which he returned back every so often. Heading for the rafts at the opening of the docks, the rest of the Wolves' notable members waiting for them there. Everyone looked rested except for Thoros who seemed to be nearly dozing off where he stood.
"Lord Howland…Ser Geralt." Beric greeted formally. "All the supplies and men are accounted for the journey. Our guides claim that the favorable weather will have us reach the southern edge of the Neck by tonight and arriving at the Twins by mid-day the day after."
"All good news to hear considering how limited time is for us." Geralt remarked though his attention did shift to Thoros. "I hate to ask…but what's wrong with our Red Priest? Did he over drink for once?"
"Ah! I'm awake!" Thoros snapped, just overhearing them discussing about him. It drew a few low chuckles from the group, making him frown a bit. When he realized Geralt and Howland where there. "Ugh…forgive me but couldn't get a wink of sleep all night. It's…it's the damn castle, all the grinding and creaking is just maddening!"
"Wait…you literally slept on a warship for weeks, yet you can't handle a single night in a floating castle?" Theon chuckled though even he realized how absurd that sounded.
Geralt sighed, shaking his head with a faint grin. "Well, at least we found one of your few weaknesses." He chuckled, drawing a few laughs from the group.
"Ah just…" He started, only to stop when he realized he was acting foolish around their lordly host and his family. "Forgive me Lord Reed, but while you are a welcoming host, don't expect me to spend another night here ever again."
Howland smirked, nodding slightly before patting Thoros. "I take no insult. As odd and difficult Graywater may be it is my home." His gaze drifted back to the rest of the group. "Jests aside, we best not delay any further. Every hour will no doubt count towards the people of Fairmarket."
"No arguments there my Lord." Greatjon remarked with a grin. "The men are all eager for a fight and if it's against cowardly mercs then even better! Show them some righteous Northerner fury!"
"And I thought Thoros was the fanatic." Theon jested under breath, drawing a few chuckles from the others.
Everyone gave a quick goodbye to Howland and his children, with Geralt being the last one to do so. "Hopefully, we'll meet again soon Lord Howland."
"Aye, most likely at Riverrun once we've retaken the region. Until then, I'll make sure no one tries to push into the North." Finishing shaking hands, Lord Reed did have a serious look in his eyes. "Be watchful Ser Geralt. I don't know what troubles further south…but it is more than just men and war."
It was an ominous warning, one that Geralt felt conflicted on ever since they had arrived in the Neck. "I will. Until next time Lord Howland."
With that, he stepped onto the raft before it cast off and drifted out of Graywater. Walking over to the pen were Roach was kept with some other mounts, he get a nearby brush to clean off his loyal mount. As the raft sailed south along the main river, Roach huffed slightly, seeming tense as she eyed the waters. "I know Roach. Something is very wrong..." He muttered, rubbing the horse's neck to ease her and distract himself from his own worries.
…
With the Winter Wolves gone, Meera spoke up to her father. "Was it wise not to warn Geralt about Jojen's visions? If what he saw is true…"
Howland shook his head, waving one hand to silence her. "He is already caught up in too many issues. I wouldn't want to burden him any further." He gestured to the other raft, a small yet well build craft, designed for the discreet trip to the North. "If this threat is among the Starks, then secrecy is our only choice. I know you two are ready for this."
The praise did make Jojen smile softly, nodding to his father. "We won't fail father. Fate is certain on that." Stepping onto the raft, he offered a hand to his sister who smirked as she simply hopped onto it with ease.
"You can trust fate Jojen, for me I'll favor my trident first." She teased as she got the large oar out to begin moving their craft forward. "Goodbye father! We'll be sure to send a message when we can." The two waved as the drifted out of the keep's docks, turning their raft northward.
"May the Old Gods watch over you…" Yet despite the silent prayer of safety, Howland had a dark feeling that this may be the last time he'd ever see his children again.
…
Day and a Half Later – Early Mid-day – A few miles north of The Twins
The journey from Greywater Watch was a peaceful one for the Winter Wolves. With the strong current of the Green Fork river along with the crannogmen guiding the rafts, a trip would take half a week was done in less than half that time. The line of rafts would come to a stop within range of the Twins, the duel castles and tower standing out in the distance.
"There it is." Smalljon remarked as the giant of a man hefted whole crates by himself, everyone hurrying to offload all their supplies and horses from the rafts. "If there ever was a bridge full of rats, that would be the place. They say half of his bannermen is Lord Frey's spawn…heh may explain their weaselly nature!"
Geralt had gradually learned why House Frey had such a poor reputation among the other noble Houses. While a 'younger' House among the nobility on the continent, being only six centuries old compared to the others dating around a thousand years. Despite this, House Frey had built up great wealth and also hosted the largest number of soldiers out of all the Houses in the region. Most of the dislike came from Lord Walder himself, who was said to have just reached ninety years old. Renowned for being petty and unreliable since during the Rebellion when his forces arrived after the Battle of the Triton was finished. He had also gone through plenty of wives along with having sired over two dozen trueborns and possibly many more bastards. One day when age did catch up to him there would most certainly be a civil war between his many sons over who should take over.
"Rats or not, they should be allies since they serve the Tully's." Beric reminded everyone.
"Beric…Its not encouraging when you mention 'should.'" Theon remarked dryly. "Last thing I want is to be surrounded by hundreds of soldiers, all eager to string us up."
"Bah! I've heard one Frey soldier is worth a third of any other man! We could take them." Thoros laughed out as he got his horse's saddle fixed before mounting up.
Geralt had just pulled himself onto Roach, moving the horse to the front of the troops. "Alright enough yammering everyone!" He spoke up. "I get it, a lot of you don't like or trust the Freys. Yet if we are invited I expect everyone to behave, is that clear?" The stern warning was enough to put the chattering aside. "Now, if we've all shared our thoughts we be best move out. I want us across the Twins by noon."
No one disagreed on those orders as everyone was quick to finish preparing their horses and supply wagons. Among the company were also twenty crannogmen who rode on the supply wagons, being alert of the surrounding wetlands. With the rafts unloaded, the guides would set the rafts off back upriver, making the return trip back to Greywater.
"Best make sure our banners are high." Graffin remarked to the others. "Rather not get riddled with arrows." The banner bears nodded as they raised high the two leading banners, one of the howling gray direwolf of House Stark while the other had the snarling white wolf head of the Wolf School, now the mark of the Winter Wolves.
The ride southward was a smooth one considering they had a road to work with, showing the area did get travel. Considering any routes north directly from the Riverlands were limited by the Forks, it made sense traffic created trails or perhaps House Frey made them for convenience. Within the hour, the company was nearing the Twins which were far more imposing up close. The structure had three main sections, the two keeps that made up each end of the bridge and a large defensive tower in the middle that served as the support piece. The keeps had moats around them, wide ditches that were connected to the river, turning each castle into its own island. Along the northern keep's lower ramparts were soldiers on watch duty. They had easily noticed the Winter Wolves miles off because of the flat terrain, since already Geralt could hear distant orders given along with noticing the drawbridge being lowered.
"Well at least they're ready to welcome us." He remarked to the others.
"Aw, was hoping for a good old shouting match by the moat." Smalljon laughed, the man always looking for an excuse to talk loudly.
As the front of the company neared the lower drawbridge, a small group of Frey soldiers accompanying an older man dressed in deep blue and light gray finery. For a moment Geralt thought it was Walder himself to welcome them, but the man while aged seemed too fit for ninety with the way he stood along with carrying a longsword at his hip.
"Must be his eldest son." Beric muttered as they slowed to a stop at the end of the drawbridge.
The Frey approached them, the man matching the descriptions shared about the massive family since his face was sharp and narrow, quite weaselly looking. He seemed to be in his late fifties or perhaps sixties, his age most clearly shown with his hair loss, having little left crowning the head with the majority growing long behind his head. Overall though he seemed quite fit for his age and had quite the sharp look in his eyes as he stared down the Witcher.
"Ser Geralt, the descriptions are quite accurate about you're appearance. It's an unexpected honor to see you visiting the Twins." He greeted quite formally. "Ah, but introduction is needed. I am Ser Stevron Frey, first born to Lord Walder and acting lord for House Frey."
"An honor to meet you as well Ser Stevron." Geralt greeted back, an inquisitive look in his eyes. "If you are acting lord for your family, what does that mean about your father?"
"If you mean he is indisposed, you need not worry on that. My father is well but ailing from his age, stubbornly holding out." He remarked, his last words jesting in tone. "He continues to make major decisions with my role being to enforce them while taking care of the more day to day matters."
"So then he has the final say still on letting the Winterstorm Alliance use the bridge then." Beric bluntly stated.
Stevron nodded. "If it were up to me, I'd have it open to the alliance. Despite our history, we are loyal to House Tully and its allies. It ensures security for my family, yet my father has his reasons." He gestured backwards into the keep itself. "He should be in the feast hall having lunch. By the time you speak with him all of your troops will be on the bridge by then."
He turned to lead Geralt and his companions into the open gates of the keep's gatehouse. To the sides were entrance ways into the keep itself while at the back had a quite unique design in reaching the bridge level a good hundred feet upward. At the edges were wide stairs, spaced enough for three people to march up shoulder to shoulder. Beside them inwards was a smooth stone slope which had huge rope lines connected to pullies, meant to carefully slide cargo up or down the slope. Lastly at the center was a wooden platform big enough for a cargo wagon, with two large gate cranks set beside it.
"A crank elevator? Quite a rare and expensive investment for one this big." Geralt remarked.
"Money well spent I say. Took a good year to have these lifts constructed in both keeps, yet they've made moving wagons and cargo easier." Stevron replied. "Anyway, my men will see to your group getting up to the bridge and waiting before the way tower midway."
Geralt along with his companions would dismounted, trusting their horses to their fellow soldiers. "You make it sound like we'll be come to an easy agreement."
The Frey heir had a small smirk on his face as he led the group to one of the side passages leading into the keep. "Ser Geralt, my family isn't pressed for time…you are." He replied, voice polite yet ever so slightly taunting. Smalljon seemed ready to snap back, with Dacey being quick to grip his shoulder to silence him.
Guided along, the group arrived at a the feast hall, which while not as extravagant compared to the ones in the North, it's size was greater than the one in Winterfell. Considering it had to house the large numbers of the Frey family on a daily basis, this shouldn't have been unexpected. Around the many tables were a mix of Frey soldiers on break or siblings of Ser Stevron. Considering they shared similar looks to their eldest brother, they weren't hard to pick out as they muttering amongst themselves. A few had lustful looks on their faces eyeing Dacey, though the Bear Islander didn't even glance at them. Theon though gave them a warning glare, being silently defensive of the shield maiden.
All attention focused on the head table, which much like Winterfell and White Harbor was set on a small platform to overlook the other tables. At the center chair was a wizen figure busy picking apart a large grill poultry, shaky hands handling the silverware with delft care. While dressed in the similar colored finery as the other Freys, Walder had a hooded cloak on as well, his head covered to obscure his features. Despite it though, Geralt could see a long crooked nose, wisps of long gray hair along the sides and small alert eyes peering from under it, giving the aged lord a resemblance like that of a vulture. Beside him was a female servant who stood dutifully with a pitcher in hand,
Stevron led Geralt's group before the platform, "Father…I present to you Ser Geralt, champion of the North along with members of the great Houses of the North." He politely introduced to the dining lord.
Walder barely glanced up from his plate, judging gaze drifting across the group before settling on Geralt. Without breaking that stare he picked up a piece of his meal which he ate noisily before speaking. "So…Lord Robb sends the Mountain Breaker himself, his loyal lapdog." His voice a gravelly, fitting for his age and reputation. "I expect you'd be…bigger considering the stories my sons shared getting thrashed by you during the last tournament. Isn't that right Hosteen?"
The last remark did draw a curious look for the Witcher as he followed Walder's gaze to one of the nearby tables. A broad, muscular fellow with a quite squared jaw did stand out among the other Frey's, staring back at Geralt. He vaguely remembered someone of his stature back at the tournament, a persistent knight with a mace and shield. All Hosteen did was give a respectful nod before returning to his meal.
"Considering the events of that day, I can imagine some details were exaggerated." Geralt responded calmly. "As for my role here, I volunteered to lead this forward force. My personal interests are to seeing this conflict delt with swiftly."
"Ah of course…the famed honor of the Witcher. Sadly, the ideals of honor is a dying one among knights and the nobility. The appeals of power, wealth and…baser desires have naturally won." Frey chuckled before sipping wine from a large silver goblet while his other hand seemed to stray behind the serving girl who gave a small yelp of surprised at getting touched by the old man. The lewd act had her blush in embarrassment she refilled the lord's drained cup.
Geralt could tell the old man's words and actions were angering the Northerners, since Walder was indirectly mocking them and their Warden. If it weren't for the calmer heads in the group, Theon and Smalljon would no doubt be snapping back at Lord Frey. The man truly seemed to be as material and lecherous as claimed.
"I can understand if you're disppointed that Lord Robb couldn't come and personally speak with you, however he has much to manage organizing all the Houses of the North and planning with King Stannis." He countered back. "These are hard times, especially with little word coming out of the Riverlands. Considering we've been unable to contact House Tully, Lord Robb is fearing the worse."
"Well if Riverrun had been attacked, we would have known." Walder replied in a serious tone. "Don't take my crassness for disloyalty Witcher. Despite my issues with House Tully, if the call for my bannermen is given, they will march." With a tired sigh, he lodged back in his seat, pondering. "Perhaps its best we get to the matter of you coming all the way here."
Getting to the point was something Geralt agreed with. "And it is a simple one at that. Lord Robb and King Stannis wish passage across the Forks with your bridge. They have given me the responsibility to discuss the exchange needed to allow their forces to cross." There was a pause since everyone knew this gave Walder plenty of power to decide on his 'price'.
There was a long silence as all gazes were on the old lord, his thin fingers tapping or tracing along the fine wood of the dining table. "Hmm…I could think of many possibilities." Walder hummed, almost mischievously. "I could ask for quite the fortune from both the Starks and Stannis for an exchange to transport their armies over my keep." His head then tilted up, showing a grin that was missing a few teeth. "Then there is Lord Robb. He's quite young and hasn't arranged a marriage with anyone yet. I have plenty of daughters to pair him with, create a union between our Houses that would be rewarding for generations." Again he hummed, it echoing across the silent hall.
Geralt could sense everyone was tense at hearing Walder's demand, no doubt guessing what he would decide on. In the end, the Witcher decided to speak up again.
"Make your choice Lord Frey. In the end you have the North and the king at your mercy." The single sentence was a show of submission, but that was the point Geralt was trying to make to urge a swift answer.
Walder's humming stopped as he stared back at the Witcher before a low chuckle followed. That chuckle then became quite the loud raspy laugh as Lord Frey seemed to find all of this quite amusing. It left mostly everyone in the room, both Northerner and Frey quite confused at what was going on. The laughing though did die down into coughing, making few of the man's sons shift up from their seats in concern only for Walder to wave his hand about.
"Ugh…damn throat isn't like it used to be." He gasped before taking a deep gulp of wine. "Ah…better. But you are right Witcher, I could ask many things and I wouldn't doubt your masters would agree." Leaning forward in his seat, his vulture like face peered out from that hood. "Which is why I have decided to demand…nothing."
At first there was no reaction to the unexpected answer, only questioning or confused glances. Even Geralt's serious expression faltered slightly. "Wait…nothing?" He repeated back, other curious mutterings filling the hall.
"What the hells is this?"
"This has to be some jest!"
"Has father truly lost it?"
By now all the chatter was getting quite loud, making Walder scowl before clanging his goblet down multiple times. "Shut up all of you!" He snarled out, making everyone quickly obey. "This isn't a joke or trick. I mean what I say!"
"So you'll let the Winterstorm Alliance cross over the Twins? No expected marriages or any other catch?"
"I'd think among everyone here I wouldn't have to repeat myself for a third time." Walder grumbled. "For most of my life people have seen me and my House as a selfish lot, never to lift a finger unless offering something in return." Again he slamed his goblet down with unexpected strength. "How much time do I have left huh? Months…a year or two? When my passing comes, I want everyone…from King Stannis to the lowest beggar in King's Landing, to remember that I, Lord Walder Frey, followed his duty for the Seven Kingdoms!" His strong speaking led to a fit of coughing which had Stevron to hurry to his side.
Geralt turned to look at his group, everyone seeming shocked or suspicious about this. "Beric? Thoughts on this?"
"Its…unexpected but the most fortunate for us. It will save both the King and young Warden a lot of worry not having more politics involved in this conflict."
Thoros though gave a low grunt, a tense glare glanced at Walder who was recovering from his coughing fit. Stevron wiped off a hint of blood off the corner of his father's mouth, who seemed to sternly mutter back at him. "There is something wrong about him. Foul and fake…" The Red Priest muttered. "I know we need his damned bridge, but this all feels like a ploy!"
"That your unset gut telling you so or your god?" Smalljon scoffed with Theon smirking in partial agreement, earning them both a glare from the priest.
Graffin was quick to speak up between the three. "Doesn't matter what we feel or want to believe. We're short on time and can't delay lingering here.
Dacey nodded in agreement with the Northerner captain. "Lord Robb will no doubt ensure their cooperation. If he can impress the king with his leadership, than he has a chance with Lord Walder."
It seemed the group was split on the matter. He had to agree that this felt like a setup, from how Walder riled them up with his brash banter and have them guessing on his intentions. Out of habit he touched over his wolf medallion, as if expecting it to vibrate, give him a sign of some magical trickery. By now Walder was recovering from his coughing fit, his eldest son wiping a bit of blood from the corner of his mouth.
"Your answer was surprising, yet welcoming Lord Frey." Geralt formally replied back. "Honest cooperation is all that the alliance wants. I can assure you that neither Lord Robb or the King will demand that your forces march with them. That is for House Tully to decide."
Walder nodded in understanding. "I'll hold you to that claim, Witcher. However I am feeling I should offer some…token force as a show of good faith." He gestured back to Hosteen Frey. "Hosteen is one of my best knights and leads a capable troop. They'll show the lowly rumors of us to be quite untrue."
The burly man stood up, giving a short nod and grin to the group. "It would be an honor to fight alongside you, Ser Geralt." He politely greeted
It was indeed a welcoming offer of aid, since Geralt could vouch on the knight's capabilities. Plus having more men would be good too since they'd be going against the Brave Companions. Yet in turn this gives Walder a direct means of keeping an eye on the Winter Wolves and the greater army once it had arrived. Refusing would be senseless to do, since right now they couldn't be selective, not when the war effort hinged on securing Freemarket.
"I'll gladly accept any aid you're willing to offer." Geralt replied back. "I'll do my best to ensure your son and soldiers also come back safely."
For a moment Lord Frey seemed ready to give a snarky remark, but the man seemed to bite the urge back. "Course…course. Knowing your reputation you'll leave no good man behind." One thin hand waved about dismissively. "Now I won't trouble you any further today Witcher. We'll no doubt speak more very soon." With a grunt, he weakly stood up, picking up a walking cane to help support him with one of the male servants followed by just in case. "Safe journey all of you. These times are very uncertain."
"Thank you. Good health for you." Geralt replied in parting as the old man headed off down a side hall, no doubt to retire to his chambers. Geralt's companions gave their own short farewells, most eager to be rid of the rude old man. Smalljon was quick to begin introductions with Hosteen though, seeming to have a friendly intent towards him.
Stevron was quick to lead the way towards the bridge section were their company was organized at the central way castle, waiting on the supply wagons to be worked up the lifts. The Witcher's companions were returning to their units and mounts, discussing over how the meeting had played out with soldiers. Hosteen excused himself to gather his own men, twenty under his command.
As Geralt checked up on Roach, he just felt a tug at his neck, his medallion just lightly vibrating. In reaction his gaze snapped about, as if expecting to see a monster lurking around the rows of soldiers and horses. The vibration had only been for a moment, yet afterwards he felt this gut feeling of being watched.
"You can feel it too?" Thoros muttered, approaching the Witcher. "Foul as Lord Frey is, there is something worse…far worse near." The red priest had an intense look about him, seeming ready to fight.
The more Geralt was around Thoros, the more he believed the man could truly have the potential to be a mage back in his world. "Can't deny there is something off about Walder and this bridge, but there is nothing we can do."
"It's wrong…Should tear through this place and find it…" Yet Thoros didn't press the matter, silently agreeing they had move on.
Mounting up onto Roach, Geralt gave one last glance at the keep behind him, sharp eyes noticing one figure watching from the windows as the Winter Wolves marched through the way castle, crossing the river and entering into the Riverlands. The shadow watching did fuel his hunter instinct, subdued after being in this world so long. Gripping his reins, he moved up to the front of the company, putting his mind on the challenges ahead.
…
Walder Frey
"I want to be alone now. If I need help I'll yell for it." The old lord snapped to his servant as he shuffled through the doorway into his room. Promptly slamming it shut behind him before taking a deep sigh. "Fools…all of them." He muttered to himself, casually discarding his cane off into a corner and shifting to stand up straight instead at a slight hunch.
"Ah…but even a fool has there uses." A cooing female voice spoke by the window. The slender figure was dressed in plain garments, fitting of a peasant or village soothsayer, with the most unique piece of clothing being a red vialed headdress. "I take the Witcher and his followers believed your generous offer?" Whispess questioned.
Walder chuckled, tugging his cloak hood back to fully reveal his head and face. Instead of a man in his nineties, he looked more fittingly in his fifties. The resemblance to his eldest son was quite clear, yet the lord had more hair crowning his head then his offspring. "They seemed suspicious, but mostly because of my manners and reputation." He replied, going over to the nearby wash basin to work on clearing off the makeup covering his face, ruse to hiding his improving health. Licking his lips, he thickly spit into a cup, getting rid of lingering blood from biting his own tongue during his coughing 'fit'. Gazing at the mirror, he smirked at the sight of his returning youth.
"Do not underestimate him my dear Walder." Her soft hands caressed his shoulders, that sly voice at his ears. "Powerful as me and my sisters are, he is one of few who can kill us." One hand strayed to cup his chin. "Despite his paranoia, he will lure the young wolf lord into our trap. You serve us very well." That comely body pressed to his back, a sensual grind that thrilled the old lord's heart.
"Considering your gifts, I'd do anything for you." He lecherously chuckled, one hand reaching back to fondle along one curvy hip. However, his teasing was cut short by a low pained groan from the four poster bed, curtain surrounding it showing a thin figure weakly squirming on the sheets. "Huh…the bastard is still alive?" Slipping freely of the crone's toying embrace, he checked on their guest.
Whispess was close behind, letting Walder pull back the curtain back to reveal who laid on it. On it was a naked man covered only by a stray sheet, fully showing his emaciated body which was little more then skin and bones. Hair surrounded his head, having fallen out and at the mouth the teeth had fallen out, scattered along his chest or the bedding. Even the eyes were dulled gray, blinded by age as they rapidly glanced about in panic.
"Your more youthful sons are quite virile my lord, that is why your recovery has been so swift." Whisperess explained, stepping up to the side of the bed with one hand gently tracing along that boney chest. The drained Frey bastard wizened breathing picked up, raspy gasps following as his dried throat couldn't even form words. "Their life is a worthy offering for your betterment."
"Only thing this one and the others had been good for." Walder muttered, hardly fazed with the state of one of his own son's. "Clumsy and dumb, a good waste of youth." The skeletal Frey eyes showed the horror and sadness at being considered such a way by his own father. One thin hand struggled to reach out, pleading though Walder just stepped slightly back out of reach.
"You will no doubt sire better offspring in time. With my blessings they will be wise and powerful beyond imagine." Her hand moved up to the drained son's face, fingers stretching into a longer claw like hand for a short moment. "This one has little more to give. So…permit me to savor what he has left."
"Do as you will." Frey agreed, enjoying the last look of shock on his bastard's face as he strolled over to the window that over looked the bridge of the Twins. He glance back to just see Whisperess leaning in, the drained Frey trying to turn his face away to escape the kiss she was about to give. The muffled pleading became raspy screams as the crone did her magic, Walder looking away to focus on the Winter Wolves riding off southward on the opposite shore.
"Like sheep to the slaughter." He chuckled, his mind already imagining the horrors that come to all his enemies. "Lord Frey…King of the Rivers. Yes…that has a very nice ring to it…"
…
Noticed: Another long wait, but hopefully this dense chapter makes up for it! I can say its been a unique chapter to write up considering having a return for Jon and furthering Geralt's group further south. Events are at last set in motion, with nothing being left certain at this point. I am curious to know what everyone things of Jon's shifting mindset, being more pragmatic and cunning then his canon behavior. If anything Jon's future will no doubt be the most impactful by the end. Also, what do you all thing of the idea of Lyanna having a journal over what happened between her and Rhaegar? I feel it was a better source of proof to work with then what information Sam lucky discovered at the Citadel.
Anyway, the next chapter will be one of many rounding down the second session, the first part being the Battle of Farimarket being next. It is going to be exciting playing out the first major battle in this crossover, so I will do my best to make it exciting yet realistic clash. Game of Thrones in the show and book don't have a good record on doing mass battles, so hopefully I can change that.
Also thank you all for breaking past 3,000 followers! This is such a huge landmark goal for me! As always, share a review, throw me a message or check on the forum here! Stay safe and be happy!