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Shorter chapter than usual this time. I kept trying to extend it, but that was for the next chapter, it just didn't work out here.

German-speakers, I require assistance! With that request made, let's get to the story! And more exclamation marks! Wow! Another one!

All Men Must Die, That Is The World's Decree; But Pilots Have Protocol Three!

Chapter Three: The Wolf And The Iron Giant

Eddard Stark rode to the gates of Castle Black. A company of twenty of his best men rode with him, and that included his sons Robb and Jon, along with his ward, Theon Greyjoy. Jon was more eager to see men of the Watch, though Ned knew it wouldn't live up to his expectations.

"Surely all this about a pillar of light is a falsehood," Robb commented. "Could the Lord-Commander be trying to get your attention to his affairs, father?"

Ned shook his head. "Not Joer Mormont, the man is as honor-bound as any Northman, if not more so." It was the truth, the Mormonts were always loyal bannermen of House Stark. Not even taking the black would let Joer lose himself.

The gate opened for him and his company, and the first person he saw when riding in was the Lord-Commander Joer Mormont himself. Ned got off his horse and gave it away to one of the stable boys.

"Lord Eddard," Mormont greeted and moved to shake his hand. It may have been months since he last saw the man in person, but he looked no different.

"Lord-Commander Mormont," Ned greeted back, and took the hand. "It's good to see you in good health." And he meant it, more so because it didn't seem he was senile, not yet. To the side he saw his sons come forward along with his master-at-arms. "My sons Robb and Jon, and my master-at-arms Rodrik Cassel."

The two boys said their greetings, and Rodrik bowed his head in respect of the old bear. To which Joer grunted and nodded to the three of them. Good, the formalities were done.

"Lord Stark, if you'd do me the honor and follow me to the top of the Wall, your boys can come if they so wish." Straight to the point? Good, Ned didn't want to step around the issue more than needed, so he nodded and gestured the old bear to lead the way.

As he, the boys, and Ser Rodrik walked across the yard, he saw an old face he hadn't seen in a long while. Alliser Thorne was training a few boys, but took the time to sneer at Lord Stark. Perhaps it was expected since it was he and Robert's rebellion that put Ser Thorne here.

The man turned away to focus more on training his new men of the Watch. It was better to ignore each other for the time being, Ned supposed. Especially with more important things that needed to be dealt with.

Looking to his sons, Robb was looking around unimpressed at what was supposed to be the prestigious order of the Night's Watch. It was known that the Watch became just a place where criminals were sent to avoid execution, so it was no wonder it became like this, though seeing it in person meant more than just knowing.

Jon, however, was taking it far worse than his half-brother. Everywhere he looked, Jon wanted to forget he saw it. The towers were in disrepair, the castle's turrets were in shambled, but the worst that must've ruined the great brotherhood for Jon were the people. None in sight looked like the gallant knights they're used to be known for, instead they were cold and cruel people, hardened by their experience here. It must be the one that hurt him the most. Would he still wish to join after seeing this? Ned didn't know.

When they neared the famous lift, Ned saw a familiar face at the top step, one he was happy to see. "Ned," Benjen greeted as he walked down and engulfed him in a hug, one he happily returned. "Good to see you, brother," he said when they separated.

"Uncle," Robb greeted happily, who was also enveloped in a hug along with Jon. It wasn't lost on Ned how almost no other black brother would be able to meet their family, but Benjen was First Ranger, and his home. . . former home wasn't so far away, and also happened to be the seat of power in the North, one regularly consulted with by the Watch.

"Glad to see you, boys," Ben said as he let go of the two boys, then looked to Lord-Commander Mormont, who shook his head. He sighed and looked to his nephews. "We'll talk more later." He patted them on the shoulders and walked to Mormont's side.

Now that he thought about it, Benjen was First Ranger, so clearly the Watch would organize a ranging to scout the light, but why was he here instead of out there? Was it already done? It's been five days since he received the raven, so surely a ranging was done.

"Lord Mormont," Ned called as they walked into the lift along with his sons, ward, and Ser Cassel. "This light you speak of, what more can you tell me of it?"

The commander shook his head. "I believe it's best I show you, fortunately the mist isn't heavy, so you should be able to see it." The lift jittered before it began rising to the top of the Wall.

"You haven't sent rangers to acquire more information?" Joer shook his head, causing Eddard to frown. Was it so far into the distance that a ranging was impossible? That couldn't be, not if they could see it. "Lord-Commander, what are you planning?"

Again, Mormont shook his head. "I'm not some summer lord from King's Landing, prancing around with words to get what I want. No, what I do, I do to protect our people." He sighed. "Forgive me, my lord, but I thought it was best for you to see it yourself. And maybe. . . " He trailed off near the end.

The cage stuttered to a stop at the top of the Wall. It was the first time he was here, and he didn't think it would be this much colder over two-hundred meters up in the air. He was already wearing thick furs, but clearly it wasn't enough as the cold still bit through.

"Gods, it's freezing," Robb complained, wrapping himself with his thick cloak. Ned was amused at his son's harmless ordeal, but that left as soon as he heard him whisper to Jon, "you still wish to join?"

Jon stayed quiet, but Ned saw him frown in disappointment. Perhaps it was better this way, to see what he was getting into before throwing away his whole life. It ached his heart that Jon saw the true nature of the Watch, but it was for the best. It had to be.

"My lords, over here," Commander Mormont said near the edge of the Wall. "Look out there, and you'll see it." Ned walked closer to the edge, looking to the fabled haunted forest, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. "Higher," Mormont said, noticing his clearly lower line of sight.

Following up, he saw more trees within the cold, the hills and mountains that reached beyond. . . but then he saw it. It churned his innards to see it, but he knew coming to the Wall wouldn't be without seeing something like this.

"By the Gods old and new," he heard Ser Rodrik whisper, and he agreed with that statement entirely. "That light. . ."

It was indeed a thin pillar of blue light, one that had him just know it was unnatural. He could almost see it pulsating, but it was too far to truly see it. As Mormont said, the mist wasn't so thick today, he could see it hit the clouds above, though his instincts said it was going past it and going even higher.

Why here, why now? But more importantly, who? Wildlings? Unlikely, though for all Ned knew it could've been them. Others? They'd been dead for thousands of years if they even existed at all, but what if they returned? They needed to be ready for more than just winter if that was the case. Children of the forest?

Eddard's mind went into more and more arcane explanations, but there could only be one way to get an answer, and he had a sneaking suspicion that Joer knew he'd come to the same conclusion.

"I see your point, Joer," Eddard said, formalities be damned. "You want me to send men to scout the source, more than just black brothers, but men who would convince their lords of this new development." And who more could command men of the North to this? "And you want me to go there with them."

The old bear didn't answer, but instead looked to Lord Stark with almost pleading eyes. Ned knew why, after so many letters asking for more men, of course he'd know why, especially when that light signified something was out there. Something he and Joer dreaded, something that needed the men of the North and Robert to prepare for without a doubt from the messenger.

"I'll go," he said finally, and turned to go back to the lift.

"You can't, my lord!" exclaimed Rodrik. "North of the Wall is filled with wildlings and their kind, a few dozen men can't protect you if we're attacked be an entire host or an encampment of a thousand." Robb and Jon nodded to that.

He was right, but peering out over the distance to where the blue light seemed to emanate from, he couldn't really see it as it was behind the trees and hills, but he could still see it. Ned looked to Joer and asked, "can you say you can protect me, Lord-Commander?"

"The distance isn't so great that there'd be any large camps between us that we wouldn't know about, so I doubt we'll be facing a host of a thousand or any of the like," Joer said, his experience in Castle Black showing. "And that light must've attracted every wildling in viewing distance. They're either dead, or at the source." That last bit irked both lords. "However, a scouting party will be ahead of us. Should anything be amiss, we'll know and retreat immediately should the threat prove too great."

Ned nodded, the old bear's words giving him small amount of comfort, then looked to Cassel. "It's a sound plan, but the threat on your life, milord, is still very real once out there. A single one of our men could handle ten wildlings, but it would only take a single stray arrow to kill you."

He should be happy to have such men to give up their lives for him, but Ned instead felt overwhelmed. Why should he expect these men to die for him, if he wouldn't even risk his life for theirs? He had to go. "Thank you, Ser Rodrik, but I must do this, you know I do if I were to gather the banners of both the North and South." Robert would heed his words, surely.

"Aye, my lord," Rodrik conceited with clear frustration and worry. "I'll send a raven to Last Hearth for some added men, not too great as not to slow us down. Gods know I wouldn't want you stay out there longer than you have to. If it pleases you, my lord, let's leave when they arrive."

Eddard nodded and looked to his sons and ward. "You three are to stay here when I'm gone." They're young and couldn't put their lives at risk. Not that it would be enough, so as expected, they protested.

Robb stepped forward. "Father! I should also-"

"I will not be hearing of this," Ned interrupted. If there was one place he couldn't bring any of his children, it would be north of the Wall. "You are too young, and should anything happen to me, I'll need you to lead in my place." He looked to Theon and Jon. "I'll need you two here as well, and I hope you three support each other should hard times come."

Jon's skill with a sword was getting better and better, Ned noticed. He wished he could bring Theon with him, the boy was skilled with a bow in a way few could, but was still too young, too inexperienced.

"Lord Stark, I'm of thirteen years of age, almost a man grown," Jon spoke up. "It may help in my decision, so let me join you." Help make his decision? If Jon wanted to take the black, perhaps it was a good idea to bring him along, but not this time, not when he was venturing deep into an unknown.

"No, Jon, not this time." He made to protest, but Ned put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "You stay here, see the people, and see their reason for fighting. If all things go well and I can go north of the Wall again, I'll take you with me." It did not ease his frustration, but Jon nodded.

If Ned was honest with himself, he was afraid of going out there to the source of that light even with a hundred men, but this needed to be done, so that his bannermen would answer the call without doubt. He would tell his liege lords that he first hand saw what it was, and it needed to be dealt with!

He prayed no sword would need to be drawn, but the feeling in his gut told him a sword wouldn't be enough.

Eddard found out very quickly that north of the Wall was indeed much colder than the area surrounding Winterfell. So perhaps he poked the small campfire a little too eagerly than usual in hopes for a larger flame. 'It's midday, yet it's still cold enough to freeze blood.'

One of his host's horses died from the biting cold, seemingly from being unaccustomed or trained to handle it. The rider, one of the men sent from House Umber, grieved for his fallen mount, and was given a spare from Night's Watch. All in all, they were fifty men. Ten sent from Last Hearth, seventeen from his original host when he came to Castle Black, and the remaining were men of the Watch.

He looked to the pillar of light, and it was undoubtable they were getting closer. Even after a night's travel, it was still ways away, but he could just barely see hints of the licks of blue flame around the center of it, like wavy hairs it reached outwards before disappearing.

An old man sat beside him next to the fire. "I'll admit, my lord, very few of you complain about the cold, less than I've come to expect," the voice belonging to Joer Mormont said. "That poor boy would need a new horse when he's back home, though. I did warn him that his horse wasn't fit for the cold, but he argued that it was the horse he grew up riding and couldn't ride another should he help it. Well, he's now riding on one of the supply horses, and another when he returns home."

Ned remembered. He did feel sorry for the lad, but one did not simply ignore Lord-Commander Joer Mormont if he advised something. "I suppose one should not come here and not expect to lose something if you weren't prepared otherwise," he commented.

Joer grunted in agreement. "Usually that would be a few fingers from frostbite, or often the life of you or your black brother. The men at Castle Black always expect to lose something should they travel north, Thorne and I drilled that lesson right into their heads. Though not even all the preparation in the world would be enough in some cases."

Nodding, Ned stood back up. "Thank-

Whatever he was going to say, Ned quieted when he heard an odd popping sound in the distance. There were feint sounds of screams as well, one of pain and dying, a sound he was all too familiar with. The sounds of pops continued and rattled the air, followed by more sounds of screams.

"Joer."

"I hear it," he said grimly. "Men, tie the horses, we're moving on foot!" he ordered, which had the men scrambling for their weapons. "Benjen, take point, take Daire and Rykker with you." A knot formed in Ned's chest when he heard that his own brother was moving ahead first.

Ben himself looked to him, and seemed to have noticed as he gave a confident smile and a nod that said 'I can do this'. Perhaps on another day it would've helped, but not this time, not when there's an unnatural pillar of light not too far from them.

An old arm patted his back. "I wouldn't send Benjen if I didn't think he had what it takes. He's a good lad, and a damn good First Ranger," Commander Mormont assured him. "He'll only be moving a few yards ahead of us, we won't be far should he need our help." His words helped, so Ned nodded in thanks.

Ben and the two went ahead of them where the sounds started, as the near fifty men shaped themselves in a sort of crescent as they moved deeper in the woods. If there was hostility ahead of them, then the men would do a small pincer maneuver and converge on any wildlings or the like.

Ser Cassel implored him to be in the middle, surrounded by his own men who would throw their bodies in front of any arrow that could come at him. Though that may no longer be the case as the popping sounds had just stopped. No more were there screams of agony, or odd sounds of thunder.

That made things even more worrisome.

Was it a battle that was won? By whom and with what? With the sounds they'd at least know that something was going on, but now? Nothing. Silence of this frigid environment, but it was that very silence that made him keep a hand on Ice, his Valyrian greatsword passed down the Stark family.

Up ahead, he saw his brother leaning over a corpse. It took him a second to realize it wasn't any of their men. Neither Stark, Umber nor Night's Watch wore white furs. A wilding, he realized, one who dragged himself away from the direction they were heading, as told by the blood trail. Though it was pointless now as the man bled to death before he could find sanctuary of whatever did this to him.

He and Joer walked ahead to the corpse, keeping their voices and bodies low as not to be heard or seen. "What did you find?" Joer asked Ben.

His brother turned over the body to reveal his chest and face. He whispered as quietly, "body's still warm, but no mark of blade nor arrow." He fiddled around a blood stain and showed the tear in a fur. "There's a hole here that went straight through the chest, but there's no sign of an arrow." Perhaps it was picked up, he wanted say, but with a body this warm and blood still wet, that was unlikely.

Mormont nodded. "Keep moving forward, but stay close," he whispered, hand on his own blade. Longclaw, if Ned remembered correctly.

The closer they moved ahead, the more prominent a voice was. It sounded like nothing but a mumble, but it grew clearer and clearer. It was like. . .

Benjen raised his first and everyone froze, staying low in the white underbrush. Ned would've thought there wasn't a single sound, but there was at least one. He heard the sound of slicing, then a grunt ahead of him. . . There!

A person ahead of them stood up, not any of his men, none he was with wore that thick of fur around chest and neck. Certainly none were holding an ear to the air with an inspecting gaze.

"Tch, enttäuschend," the man said with displeasure as he threw the severed ear away with a disgusted grunt. Ned didn't understand what he had just said, but it didn't take much to understand he didn't like whatever it was he was seeing.

Ned moved closer to Benjen to see, and he did so quietly with success. At closer inspection, he noticed the man's wear was unlike anything he was familiar with. It looked like a combination made of cloth and leather with straps nearly everywhere, but there were parts on it looked to be of steel. But besides that thick mane of fur around his neck, the other feature was some metal arm sprouting from his back and over his shoulder.

On his back waist was some kind of metallic pack with protrusions, and held on his belt was an oddly designed helmet of sorts, more reminiscent of a bowl. The only tell of a blade was the knife he returned to the sheath on the side of his shin. He shouldn't be a threat, but Ned still didn't feel at ease.

The man stood and took in a deep breath of air, then took the helmet that was clasped to his belt and donned it. "This is Richter," the man said to seemingly no one. "The runaway hostiles had been taken care of, returning to-" He stopped midway through his sentence. The head turned to Ned's direction, and he knew that this Richter knew they were there.

How, though, was another question, as the odd helmet had a cross-shaped visor that had orange-tinted glass that couldn't have been easy to peer through. If he didn't know any better, Ned would've said that it was glowing, but that couldn't be right.

"Which one are you?" the man asked, receiving no answer, so he stood facing them, hand on something on his belt. He knew they were there, he had to. "I'm not patient enough for this. Come out, or I make you come out."

Ned looked to Mormont, who like himself didn't like how this was developing, but they had fifty well-trained men including himself against this one man. But why did it do nothing to ease his mind? When Joer nodded to Benjen, Ned felt worse tenfold.

"Greetings," his brother said, hands shown in a placating manner. "I mean you no harm, I was just passing through." He walked out of the brushes and into clear view.

The man looked Ben up and down. "You are of this Night's Watch, the organization that these people call Crows," Richter said, but his voice was odd, changed and vibrating. It wasn't like that before he put on the helmet.

"I am, yes." Ben nodded. "And who might you be? You don't seem to be a wildling."

The man grunted. "What I am is none of your business, and don't pretend you're alone." Benjen stiffened, but didn't let down his hands to show himself unarmed. "Yes, I know you have fifty men behind you, so why don't they come out as well."

Frowning, Ben took a few seconds of deliberation before whistling to the twenty black brothers behind him, making them step out. Bows were nocked and aimed towards Richter, and the swordsmen had their hands on their swords should anything happen.

Richter just shook his head. "Regardless of the fraction of the men you had step out, I will tell you all what I told these wildlings," the man half-shouted with a nod to the several, bleeding corpses in the vicinity. He pointed towards the pillar of light. "That light you see over there, you will never reach it, so turn around and don't come back. Let's see if your choice was better than theirs." He kicked a wildling corpse for good measure.

The way he said it so confidently, so uncaring of twenty or so men in front of him, Ned couldn't pin down whether it was arrogance, confidence, or a type of bluff, especially when he seemed to know their actual number.

"Let's just kill him and move on. We've wasted enough time as is," said one of the bowmen impatiently. "Just give the word, and I'll launch an arrow right through his skull." He pulled the bowstring and aimed the steel-tipped arrow at the man.

"These wildlings had similar answers, and killing them was as boring as it was fast." Richter turned to Ben. "You people are too weak to give us trouble, fighting you would be more hassle than it's worth. Leave while you still can." That confidence again, but a word stood out.

He said 'us', and it meant only one thing, one that had Ned more aware of surroundings than before.

A strange humming sound was heard, and was slowly getting louder, like a flock of birds flapping at once. It wasn't something only he heard, as the men around him began looking around warily for the source.

Richter looked to the air behind him and said, "I suppose they sent me back up." He grunted. "Was auch immer. They'll make short work of you and less trouble for me." The fact that it was getting louder and his voice was filled with disinterest made Eddard's innards reel.

Then he saw it.

No, them! Dozens of them!

The men scrambled to shouts and moved out of the shrubbery, drawing swords and bowstrings aimed towards the skies as several odd creatures flew into sight. Silver in color, size of a small child, and that was all Ned could describe it as.

One of the bowmen loosed an arrow, but caused no effect outside of pushing it back slightly when the arrow bounced off the creature with a metallic ding sound,. . . They weren't creatures, they were machinations made of metal.

Others followed suit, loosing arrows that seemingly did nothing to damage them, and he knew that it was only a matter time before one of them fought back, and he was right. A whine filled the air, and the pipe on one of them glowed brighter and brighter.

What came out of it wasn't something he could easily describe. One moment it was glowing like hot steel, the next it let out a screech and orange light. The very light hit one of the Watch's men, and that was when Ned smelled burned flesh.

The men watched as the boy no older than sixteen dropped to his knees with a hole in his chest. He tried to cover the hole with his hands as if to stop whatever it was from happening, but it did nothing, and the boy slumped forward and unto the snow.

Whines filled the air once more, but it wasn't from just one source this time. Eddard had to do something, as some of the men were already running to avoid them, but many, including Mormont and Benjen, were still there with swords in hand, and others were on their knees praying to their Gods.

Things weren't in their favor. He had to do something!

"Stop!" he shouted and marched forward, ignoring his guard's calls. Now in front of the group, he spread his arms wide in front of Richter. "Enough, we'll leave! You have my word on that as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North." Not Benjen, please, not him.

The whine became louder, ready to spit out its spear of burning light. Ned closed eyes, waiting for the smell of burning flesh once more, but this time his own. He heard his men and that of Ben calling out as they came running to him on the hard, snowy ground.

One he knew he'd fall onto very soon.

But it didn't come.

He opened his eyes, and saw those bright lights on those pipes extinguished. The only thing he heard was that vibrating voice say, "you're very fortunate we want something from you."

German-speakers, help me! Richter needs you!

I'm really sad that such an amazing game like Titanfall 2 made by amazing people didn't get the popularity it well deserves. Ah well, one thing's for sure, I'll be getting every Respawn game I can get my hands on. They're games made by gamers!

Please tell me one of you caught the Boromir reference. Ah well, until next time!