CHAPTER 4:
BRIEFING
Mance looked at Tormund with shock painted on his face, his composure crumbling in record time. Though he didn't know why he was even surprised, his friend was not known for having much tact if at all. However, Mance noticed how everyone shuffled a bit, their curiosity no longer contained as one of them volunteered to ask their guest. They looked at Kratos expectantly, waiting for his answer to the inquiry.
They did not have to wait long.
"We have more important things to discuss than what I am or am not."
"That was not a denial." Val observed stoically, a knowing glint flashing in her eyes. Kratos did not see fit to reply, nor did Val make any other remarks. Neither disputed nor ascented. Kratos just stood there like some fucking Weirwood personafied, staring at them. Mance had to get the conversation under control before it got derailed any further. There were far more urgent topics to discuss.
"I'm sure we're all curious about something, but he is right. There are more important matters."
"Hmmm." Kratos's gaze didn't get any less indifferent, and the weight it pressed on Mance didn't lighten in the least as he tried to ease into his desired answers.
Perhaps introductions would lighten things up?
"Kratos? We already got your name but, in our haste to achieve privacy, I didn't get to introduce myself and my companions. Allow me to correct that."
"…I am waiting."
…Maybe not.
"I am Mance Rayder, formerly a brother of the Night's Watch and currently trying to save as many of the Free Folk I can from the threat you no doubt are aware of. The big fellow with the red hair is Tormund Giantsbane, a chieftain of these people. Actually, every person here is a chieftain of some kind." He said, making a sweeping gesture with his right arm.
He then pointed to the two women who were standing beside each other. "These lovely ladies are Val and Karsi. Don't let their pretty faces fool you, they are Spear Wives, wedded to their weapons. They're just as likely to gut you as they are to greet you in the morn."
Mance thought he saw approval in Kratos' eyes at that piece of information, the coldness in his eyes diminishing minutely. 'So, he respects fighters then. Not surprising, but quite helpful to know.' he pondered while turning to the last denizens of the tent.
"These two fine gentlemen glaring up a storm are the lord of Bones and Varymyr six skins. Murderous bastards to be sure, but vital to keeping the peace in this large assembly of ours." He finished, looking to Kratos to see his reaction.
He didn't even look at them, the blatant act only fueling the fury of the duo. Curious, it appears their guest already measured them.
With the introductions out of the way, Mance got down to business.
"They said You killed a White Walker?"
"…If that is what it is called."
"Bare handed?"
"The weapon I had at the time, did nothing in the way of damage to it. I had to discard it and use my hands." Kratos stated, as if he were talking about the weather. Mance was stunned, whatever words he had dying in his throat. Kratos did not strike him as a man who would lie or even exaggerate, but what he was saying was simply not possible. He heard a scoff and saw the lord of bones looking irritated.
"Ye expec' us to believe tha' pile o' Mammoth Shit?"
"I do not care what you believe." Kratos maintained his complete disregard for the lord of Bones, his eyes still fixed on Mance.
"Ye fuc- "
"Oi! Calm it you fucker! If you don't know how to be anything other than a savage, get out!" Mance exploded at the lord of bones, who looked like he had more to say but thought better of it for the time being. An act of the gods in and of itself, considering the surprisingly low bar for Mance's expectations of him.
All the while, he noticed Kratos didn't shift an inch from where he was, didn't even bat an eye. Mance was honestly considering if the man wasn't truly a stone statue, but soon dismissed the thought given the beard. The atmosphere became calm again, if only marginally, so Mance gestured for Kratos to make his case.
"I assume you know, you cannot stay here indefinitely."
"Aye, we do. We are going further south, across the Wall if we have our way."
"The Wall? I have heard of this structure thrice now. What is its significance?"
"Ya don't know about The Wall? What FreeFolk don't know bout The Wall?" Karsi asked the question on everyone's mind, no doubt. The Wall was legendary, its looming shadow over the wildlings' lives a constant reminder of its strength. To not know about its existence until recently would be something Mance thought impossible. Yet here stood a man, with either no clue what it was or the best Cyvasse face he had ever seen.
"What. Is. Its. significance?" Kratos demanded again, a bit more forcefully this time. He was clearly not used to repeating himself.
Mance sighed as he rubbed his forehead. He's been doing that often of late, much to his dismay. It seems there was always something to be frustrated about.
"The Wall is an incredibly massive ice structure built to border off the True North from the rest of Westeros, the main continent. It's seven hundred feet high and three hundred miles wide, from coast to coast." He paused a little to afford Kratos time to absorb the information.
"How did such an edifice come to be?" Kratos growled after a moment of contemplation. Mance could swear the man before him was almost impressed, a very different reaction from what one expects upon being told of the Wall for the first time.
"How? Well, there have been different speculations for centuries by men much more learned than I. Some believe it was commissioned by Bran the Builder, who ensnared giants with magic to help with the task some eight millennia ago, in the Age of Heroes. It is said he built it to protect the realms of men from the White Walkers."
"The most plausible reason."
"Aye. That same Bran the builder went on to become Brandon Stark of Winterfell and the first ruler of the northernmost part of the lands below the wall." Mance added, finding his opportunity to transition the subject to their main obstacle.
"Hmmm…What is impeding you from simply crossing this wall?" Kratos asked after another moment of what seemed to be contemplation, but Mance was beginning to think it was actually him fighting off his inner statue self.
There was a small laugh at his question, coming from Karsi. She followed it up with a question of her own. "Ye mean oth'r than the Bunch a southern Crows that defend it?" She asked in equal parts amusement and frustration.
"Ah yes, how could I forget to tell you about the defenders." Mance said light heartedly, trying to prevent the situation from escalating, even though he had a sneaking suspicion Kratos wouldn't react to the jape. Don't ask him where he got such an idea, the man was normally so expressive. He continued his explanation.
"The Wall is defended by the Night's Watch, an order of brothers who swore off children, lands and titles to spend the rest of their natural lives protecting 'The realms of men'." He said dramatically with an air of mockery and exaggerated extravagance, feeling a bad taste in his mouth as memories of the past came to him.
"They seem to conveniently forget there are men on this side of the wall as well. Aye, some of them are less than savages who'd rape and pillage anything in sight and deserve to be hung by the fucking balls. But the same is true for any side of the wall. Men are men wherever in the world you go, beyond the wall, Westeros or Essos." He took a breath to steady himself as his fist tightened, the topic always getting the best of him.
"I make no excuses for vile men...but there are children here. Children! Who had no say in where they were born but were dealt the biggest serving of bad luck! Why do they have to suffer for it?" No one answered him, none said a word. He didn't expect them to.
It took him a while to regain his composure, then shook his head and rid himself of such thoughts. "I beg your pardon."
"Think nothing of it." Kratos replied easily.
"As I was saying, the Night's Watch. The Free Folk call them Crows, because they only wear black leathers and fur. No other colors whatsoever. They have ten and nine castles in total on the Wall, but I know from memory that only three of them are manned. That's Eastwatch by the sea, which is the closest one to us. Castle Black, their headquarters and the most heavily manned, also houses the Lord Commander of the order. Then lastly you have the Shadow Tower to the far west, sparsely manned but still formidable."
"Then you have a plan." It wasn't a question.
"The makings of a plan, yes. There is no guarantee it'll work."
"No plan survives contact with the enemy. Tell me about it." Kratos demanded while folding his arms at his chest.
Mance wasn't quite keen on sharing his plan, at least not while it was still in development, but he thought better of it. If ever there was a man to tell a plan, partially done as it may be, it would be him. With that in mind, he told Kratos he wanted to attack the Night's Watch head on as a distraction, while some of his most trusted would infiltrate it from their flank.
"That is the rough idea of it. The details are not yet carved out, but they will be with time."
"…A promising outline."
Mance nodded and felt satisfied to know this obvious warrior could see the merits in his plan, his insight and discipline showing through his every action. He knew the finer points needed hammering out, but that will happen in time. He wasn't the fucking Smith.
"Tell me about your people, the Free Folk?" Kratos requested, not a hint of intrigue on his ever stoic face.
Val decided to answer him, and Mance didn't stop her. She was the best person to give him the information. She knew her people more than anyone.
"Not much to tell. We are a simple folk, honest." She did a quick glance at the lord of bones and Varymyr, a frown appearing on her face. "Well, most of us anyway." Mance heard her mumble.
"We're the same as any people, 'cept we're not kneelers. We are 'Free' Folk, and we are proud of it. We keep to ourselves mostly, 'cept those who do raiding down south." Her brows knitted at that. She had never agreed with the raids, very vocal she's been about the risks and detriments they present.
"There has never been this many of us in one place, not any time I can remember."
"Aye, she said it. Many different clans, all in one place. Too many. Fuckers can hardly live together." Tormund pitched in with his own two coppers, grunting as he crossed his arms as his own annoyance showed itself.
"How many souls are in this camp?" Kratos asked, looking pensive.
"About half a million, give or take. It's been hard to keep them fed and organized to any degree, given the lack of capable manpower. That's not even mentioning how they try to gut each other every other sennight." Mance lamented, feeling much older than his actual age.
"Infighting."
"Aye, most of the clans here would kill the other on principle alone, Some hold grudges against each other for one grievance or another."
"No' all 'njustly founded." Karsi interjected quickly, glancing at her knife pensively. "It's a harsh place round here, some o' them had to steal from other clans to survive, to feed their little'uns" She tried to mitigate the point, the injustice the cruel land imposed clear for everyone.
Val Nodded her agreement, yet then her face quickly took on a disgusted look.
"Some of the clans are just bastards. Like the Thenns, bunch of self-important cocks that they are, think every other FreeFolk are savages. The HornFoots have been at war with the NightRunners since…always. The Frozen Shore men hate the Ice River clans, actually everyone hates them damn cannibals." She finishes with a growl.
"Hmmm. So, what you are saying, commander, is you do not have control of your camp." Kratos said pointedly, a certain harshness in his voice making the people around him visibly flinch.
Mance nodded, his eyes turning to the fire near him and feeling quite lost for a brief moment. Kratos wasn't wrong but hearing it being pointed out so harshly didn't do well for his mental state.
"You have to understand, I mayhaps be trying to help these people, but I am not one of them, not truly. While they listen to me to some degree, I am still only a man and there is only one of me. That is where these chieftains come in, they help me keep most of the fighting at bay."
"Well, it sounds like they are failing."
Karsi scoffs, feeling quite offended. "Who are you to tell us what we're failing at?"
"Your hubris means nothing to me. If you mean to save these people, then they need to become a unit. They need to be set in line."
"And who's going'o set us in line then? You?" The lord of bones seemed to find much amusement in the suggestion. "Yur a big fucker, Aye, but yur only one fucker. Could neh kill all o' us." He said and spat on the ground.
"Yes." Everyone stopped talking, their eyes widening at the response. They did not expect him to answer so succinctly.
"Bring the leaders of these clans, they will have to get their people to submit to order."
"And ye think they be going to listen to you, do ye?"
"I will make them listen."
Mance stared at him for some time, feeling a sudden chill running down his spine. He searched for any doubt or deception, wondering if Kratos was simply making a bluff to shut the lord of Bones.
When he saw none, he nodded and gestured for the other occupants of the tent to go and fetch the others. A few of them didn't look so happy about it as expected, but those were never happy unless they were up to some form of depravity, so Mance didn't let it bother him. Once the last of them left the tent, he couldn't help but approach the man with a doubtful gaze.
"You know you will have to fight them, right?"
"It was implied, yes." The commander didn't know whether to feel annoyed or reassured by such a measured answer.
"And you are confident you will win? Against all of them? Savages some of them may be, but these are hard sons of beasts still. There is a reason they are chiefs of their respective clans." Mance pointed out, mostly to be certain of the resolve of the man.
"I have fought worse things than men who think they are dangerous."
"…Aye, I believe it. Well, let us head outside then." Mance got up and walked to the entrance of the tent, Kratos just behind him. They got out, looked around the camp, then just stood there and waited.
Watching Kratos from the corner of his eyes, Mance dared to pray for a miracle. For hope to finally grace him and these people, for good fortune to grace this warrior.