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The dawn had finally broken after this terrible night. Mance Ryder and his personal guard were quietly completing the crossing of the ice tunnel bored at the foot of the Wall, that led into the courtyard of Castle Black. Mag the Mighty, the formidable leader of the Giants, had been the spearhead tasked to capture this tunnel during the night assault. A small band of six crows had tried to stop him, by the inner portcullis. But all the Giant had to do was to smash down that gate, which crushed at once and as one all of the six nitwits who had stupidly gathered right behind it!
Darkness was still persisting as Mance and his bodyguards reached the courtyard. Its ground was strewn with an overall surprisingly low amount of bodies: only men wearing black rugs, none with grey furs. A fair reaping of crows... The broken remains of the large iron cage that had once been used as an elevator cab, were also lying at the foot of the vertical framework, as a quite unusual sight. The "King-Beyond-the-Wall" resolutely walked towards another group of Free Folk warriors, who were already waiting for him on the spot: they were part of the commando infiltrated south several months before, that had climbed the Wall in order to take the crows from the rear. At their head stood Tormund Giantsbane, the strong axe wielder with his thick red beard, Ygritte, the agile archer with her hair kissed by fire, and Styr, the scary scarified Magnar of the Thenns. Mance hailed the Giantsbane with his usual reserve, which for this time, however, poorly disguised his inmost joy to find his brother-in-arms still alive:
-–- Nice to see all of you again, my old friend, after these long months without news. How did this night go for you?
-–- Well, what to tell about it? a still puzzled Tormund muttered. I had expected danger, fighting, casualties... And finally, all I had was... entertainment!
Tormund's small force had indeed sustained as nonexistent losses as Mance's army, during the night assault he had launched against the south ramparts of Castle Black. The very few arrows shot at the attackers had landed at a safe distance, without hitting a single one of them. The walls had been easily captured as well, undergarrisoned by a puny handful of clots desoriented enough to flee toward the danger! Then, even before the battle really began in the courtyard, a huge explosion had lit up the night over the ice Wall, and the fighting had been cut short. Several crows had died of fear – literally speaking! – at the very places where they stood, soaked in own urine for the cleanest of them. The other ones had trampled each other in a fit of panic, when a stampede had the survivors surge back to the elevator, even while unserviceable, or to the delusive safety of the underground vaults. Those who managed to reach the wooden framework, were almost immediately crushed by flaming debris falling down from the top of the Wall. And the last two ones who took refuge into the vaults, broke own's necks by falling down the stairs without any help!
Tormund Giantsbane and Mance Rayder strode to each other, and shared a warm hug as old friends glad to meet again at last. Mance also plunged his face with affection into Ygritte's thick ginger hair, as she had got closer to both men. Regarding Styr, the Thenn was not that keen on such outpourings; actually, the three others had never intended to suggest him to come round and join them! So the scarred scarecrow rather went for a walk round the elevator framework, still clung to the ice Wall. Styr grimaced in disgust as he kicked one of the charred bodies fallen down from the parapet walk, seven hundred feet above:
-–- I like my meat well done, the Thenn leader grumbled. But now that's over-cooked for my taste!
Leaving his friends, Mance slowly turned toward the Wall, with a satisfied-looking smile and hands on hips. His eyes slowly went up the ice face, from the flaming debris at its foot, to its smoking top. Then suddenly, the "King-Beyond-the-Wall" opened his arms wide, and proclaimed in a loud and bombastic voice:
-–- The crows are dead!...» A strong ovation greeted the warlords's address, as he continued: «...But they fell as heroes, passing away in a fireball that nobody here shall ever forget!... When they realized their battle was lost, they preferred to blow themselves, all of themselves up, rather than being caught alive! Such a contempt for death... That can't but command admiration!
Mance's short speech ended in dead silence, which had a startled Tormund come closer and whisper in the ear of his brother-in-arms:
-–- What's that raving, damn!? Do you really believe in this bullshit you're selling us?!
-–- No, of course not, Mance admitted in a low voice. You know that I once served in that crazy bunch of misfits: hence I could take full stock of what they were really good for! And believe it, the main reason why I finally chose to desert, was to put as much distance from them as possible, before one of those hopeless bunglers may end up killing me accidentally with a kitchen ladle! But just think about it: what does sound the most epic, for us? To have accomplished the feat of overcoming a cast-iron resistance, put up by a valiant legion of titans worthy of entering the legend? Or to have just pushed open the loose gate of a poorly maintained fortress, whose all of the stupid defenders had managed to destroy themselves without any help from us?!
-–- Yep, you're not wrong! Tormund conceded in an unconvinced tone.
For her part, Ygritte was pacing the courtyard, with her bow on hand; she seemed to be searching for something special, nervously looking left and right. In desperation, she finally came and asked Mance and Tormund, in a voice where a last glimmer of hope could be detected:
-–- Did you find Jon Snow?
-–- Oh, yah, sure, Tormund jested, I think that was his leg, there. Yes, there, the one that these two Thenns are biting into each end! Rhoah, if you can't even talk crap now! the big bearded guy protested, after his arm caught the arrow that a vindictive Ygritte had shot at him.
The red-haired vixen came back to her quest, and Mance's and Tormund's attention turned to a crowd gathering at the vaults entrance. Seemingly, a wildling girl had been found hiding in a cellar with her baby. Tongues were wagging around the young mother, who was wandering with her infant in her arms, wild-eyed, with a slow and mechanical walk:
-–- I know that one: she's one of the wives...daughters... well, the livestock of this old perv of Craster, anyway!
-–- What's that thing she's mumbling again and again?
-–- I think it is: «Morons, all o' them!... Morons, all o' them!...» Sounds like she knew quite well the crows of Castle Black!
Mance Rayder soon gave up this entertainment, and proceeded to climb the stairs to the ramparts of the fortress. There, he could take in the vast expanse of southern lands now open to him, above which the sun was just starting to rise. The "King-Beyond-the-Wall" was soon rejoined by Tormund, who seemed absolutely unconcerned about Ygritte's arrow still planted in his arm! The rough warrior sneered vulgarly when his chin pointed precisely at the flame-haired archer, who was still frantically roaming the battlefield in the courtyard down below:
-–- Hurh-hurh-hurh... I bet that it's not exactly his leg, the part of the Stark little bastard she's actually looking for!
Mance sighed without taking his eyes off the southern horizon:
-–- I've missed so much the high level of sophistication of our regular conversations, my friend...
Tormund rolled his eyes for a while, seemingly unable to tell if Mance was either serious or making fun of him. Anyway, he finally turned to face the Wall, whose top was still adorned with thick black smokes in the light of the dawning day. The bearded fellow then stated with regret:
-–- I wonder if we're to see again such bursts of flames... That was quite something!
Mance smiled, and seemed for once to take notice of his old comrade just next to him:
-–- Oh, we may, would we march far enough down to the south. Over there, they've got something they call: wildfire!
-–- What's that stuff? an intrigued Tormund asked.
-–- Well, say, it looks like the barrels of fire, last night, yet much, much bigger! And greener too, from what I've heard...
-–- Now that sounds amazing! the Giantsbane exclaimed. I'd like to see that! Oh, not too closely, of course...
Mance Rayder felt obliged to reassure his friend on this point, by having one of these quiet laughs of him: these had the gift for cheering his companions up, since they asserted and left no doubt about his self-confidence:
-–- I would not worry too much about it, if I were you... Trust me, the Southerners are far from exiling all of their idiots to the Wall: there'll still be plenty left, fully up to blow themselves up single-handedly with their blazing toys!...
The old warhorse then had a look at the courtyard, and continued:
-–- ...By the way, don't forget to burn the dead that did not go up in flames up there already. I am not curious at all to know if the White Walkers can revive these dead morons as moronic dead!
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_The End_
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