(The Wall: 12/23/298 AC) Viserys I

"You Southerners never seem to get tired of starting wars," Gared groaned, as they stood upon the battlements of Castle Black, watching as an army of nearly three-hundred men strong came trudging down the path leading towards the main gate. Following the army of Northerners was a train of supplies as far as the eye could see, and in the distance, he spotted the banner of House Umber. A roaring giant, with broken silver chains, on a flame-red field, flapped in the cold wind.

"Open the gates!" their Lord Commander ordered from across the way, his voice echoing out down along the courtyard in which his fellow crows milled about, awaiting the newly arriving men. Beside Lord Mormont, Viserys spied Ser Alliser, the Halfhand, Benjen Stark, and Sho-Yu with his Dragonstone guard minus the large quiet one, whom he assumed still patrolled somewhere along the Wall's summit. Each of the Dragonstone men were resplendent in their crimson uniforms and leathern overcoats, while the others wore varying degrees of chainmail, plate, and boiled leathers, some of which were dyed black. All of them, different as they were, shared in viewing the approaching army from the gate's archway.

"If that's so, then why are they sending men here?" Will questioned with a slight tremor in his voice.

"Not just here, but the Shadow Tower and Eastwatch-by-the-Sea," he stated in a grim tone. He knew why Northern armies were coming, for the Bloodraven had warned him, just as he himself had warned the Dragonstone boy, but he was still amazed at such a rapid response from the Lady of Dragonstone, let alone the Lord of Winterfell. 'What had caused them to react as such? No noble in their right mind would take news of the Others to heart with mere words alone. So how?'

"Are you still on with your belief about the Others planning an attack, Vis?" Waymar complained, though not as strongly as Viserys knew he would have more than a month ago, when he had first decided to reveal to him what had happen within the Bloodraven's cave.

"Even if I wasn't still on about it, someone else apparently believes it to be true," he rested his left hand upon the pommel of his sword and let the other hang at his side.

"I still think it utter lunacy," Royce crossed his arms over his lightly-armored chest.

"If you think Lord Stark a madman, then perhaps you should speak to the first Ranger about your concerns?" he shot a look towards the Valeman and saw a frown form upon his young face. "No?" he let the question linger a moment to allow the young knight a response.

Gray eyes stared at him, "It is madness if we know that the enemy is to the south, while a suspected one that has not been seen for centuries may be to the north. Hear my words and judge for yourselves what sounds more insane. The former Queen passing off incest bastards as King Robert's? Or a two-hundred year-old sorcerer warning about an army of the dead?"

"You weren't there Royce, you did not see what I saw," he looked at his black brother, his friend. "Seven-hells, I thought I was mad for even thinking it, after waking up in that tent. But something, a voice, has remained within the back of mind ever since, screaming at me that it was true." Viserys raised his hand, placing it upon his friend's shoulder. "I know what madness can overtake my family, Waymar. Believe me, I do," he looked into his eyes, "and it's what kept me from telling you three about it for those weeks afterward. But you're my brothers, and in all the time that we've known each other in this place, have I ever shown myself to be deceitful or mad?"

"No. No you have not, you white-haired ponce," Royce sighed, grinning as he reached up with his own hand and rested it upon his shoulder. The youngest of the Bronze Yohn deflated, though remained persistent in crafting his thoughts into words. "But would it not make the most sense to gather your full might to crush the traitors to the south, instead of splitting your forces between a certainty and a suspicion?"

"It's only the North sending men and supplies, at the moment," he relaxed his hand and returned it to his side, with Ser Waymar following shortly after. "Not the rest of the loyalist kingdoms. Lord Tywin has at least two of them occupied for the moment, and no word on Dorne or the Reach."

"You forgot to mention the Vale," Gared snorted, eyeing the Umber men as they passed through the castle gate.

"Oh shut it, Gared," Waymar hissed. "Even with the King's decree, my father is still trying to convince the Lady Arryn to commit to the campaign against the West, let alone send men up here to freeze half-to-death. Short of the King himself, no one else believed in Lord Stark's warnings as much as my father did. So do not lump all Southerners as the same."

"Consider me surprised that your father believed in the Others at all," the old ranger countered.

"He doesn't, at least as far I know, but he believes in Lord Stark's words," Waymar glared. "He has never known the Lord of Winterfell to lie."

"I'd prefer not to start up with this again," he groaned, rubbing his forehead in irritation. Both men glanced at each other before they turned to him, and nodded their understanding.

"Apologies," the stated in unison.

"The night before, when I spoke with Maester Aemon, he'd recently received ravens from the Shadow Tower and Eastwatch in regards to reinforcements arriving from the Northern houses. More specifically, Bear Island and the Karhold."

"Did they say how many?" Will questioned, his nerves having steadied at the news.

"One-hundred-and-fifty from Bear Island to the Shadow Tower, and four-hundred from the Karhold to Eastwatch," he replied, watching as the Umber men below began to set up camp within the Castle. A large man, who he had come to realize was the Smalljon, son of the Greatjon Umber, Lord of the Last Hearth, rose up the steps of the gate and began to speak with the Lord Commander before turning to the Yi-Tish boy from Dragonstone. He knew not what was said, but he could guess, as the boy lifted his hand and sparked a medium-sized flame within his palm. The large man drew back somewhat, before he began to rub his chin. Murmurs rippled through the crows below, when the flame ignited and swirled in the breeze.

"These Yi-Tish pyromancers? Can they be trusted?" Waymar whispered to him, the clear uncertainty sticking to his words like tar. While word of the Others had shook his friend, the foreigners had struck him differently. Through the histories, he knew that the third son of the Bronze Yohn understood more or less what the White Walkers were capable of. However, to him and those amongst them, the Lady of Dragonstone and her people were not yet in their history books. They were not some ageless horror spoken of to scare children. They were blank pages above which stood the Lady Azula, dipped quill in hand, which even he admitted to himself was a powerful thing. 'And powerful things tend to be corrupting,' he told himself, wondering idly if that meant the woman was corrupting or that she was the one being corrupted.

"Time will tell," he answered plainly, in part for himself as well as for the young Valeman.

"Your enthusiasm leaves much to be desired," Royce muttered, as he rested his hands upon his belt.

Ignoring the statement, he and the others turned to face the Dragonstone boy as he closed his fist and silenced the flame. A few more words were shared quietly amongst them, before the group above the gate retreated into the Lord Commander's Tower, save for Ser Alliser, who began to bark orders to the men below. "All of you! Don't just stand around, get back to your posts!"

Taking their cue, the Brothers of the Watch gathered within the courtyard below, scattered to perform their scheduled tasks. Fortunately for him, Viserys knew his current responsibility was to patrol along the battlements, alongside Waymar, Gared, and Will.

"Were there any other raven scrolls?" Will finally asked once more, his tone indicating a need for distraction, as they stalked the perimeter of the courtyard.

"Yes," he responded, shifting his gaze from the men setting up camp within the square below, and the men still forming outside. "There were messages from Winterfell, the Dreadfort, and White Harbor, amongst my granduncle's ever growing pile of missives. They each promised a contingent of men. A thousand from House Stark, to be divided between Castle Black and the Shadow Tower, and six-hundred from House Bolton, divided between here and Eastwatch. Three-hundred from White Harbor to Eastwatch, as well as several shipholds worth of food and general supplies."

"We better claim our cots," Royce chuckled humorlessly. "It seems like crowding will become an issue here, sooner rather than later."

"Perhaps not," Viserys supplied, after the Valeman finished his piece.

"Oh?"

"One more interesting scrap of parchment was amidst the mountain of letters," he continued, tapping thoughtfully upon his pommel as he spoke. "It had been delivered by hawk."

"The Lady of Dragonstone?" they whispered in agreement.

He nodded. "Evidently she wishes to bring the Nightfort back into working order, and has plans to dispatch several of her engineers to see it done."

"That place is a ruin. Why waste the time?" Waymar inquired, puzzled at the woman's plan of action.

"If she feels she can spare the men and resources, then why question it? It alleviates our upcoming room shortages, and her people have worked wonders before," images of the woman's flagship flashed in his mind. "So it shouldn't take them too long."

"So what of the other Northern houses, and more importantly, the King?" His three brothers pressed, surprising each other at their simultaneous inquiries.

"Unknown, though that's not unsurprising. Troop movements south of the Wall are not our concern. Though, I would hazard a guess that the Northerners were massing somewhere along the Neck," Viserys supplied, knowing that to be the most well-known practice of Northern armies before they begin an assault on the South. "As for King Robert? Last news was that he was marshalling the Stormlords, but that was three weeks ago. I do not think he took the news, about the Queen and her bastards arriving safely back to Casterly Rock, very well."

"Hmph," Gared snorted, "Perhaps it was for the best that he was at Storm's End when the news had reached him? I imagine he would have had rather strong words for the Lady Azula, for letting Cersei and her spawn get away."

"Somehow," he supposed, "I imagine such a thing going rather badly for the both of them. Then, we'd have another, rather large problem, to contend with on top of this one. We should count our blessings."

"My father knew the King in his youth," Waymar added, "and one thing that he could say about his grace was that he was a warrior-king, through and through. Even had he reprimanded the Lady of Dragonstone in public or behind closed doors, he likely personally relished the opportunity to jump back into the thick of things. Especially against a Lord as notorious as Tywin Lannister. Getting his children and grandchildren back, damned him more than it would have had they simply been held hostage or executed."

'Yes,' he thought to himself. 'A curiously advantageous situation if one played it right.'

"I wonder what they are discussing," Will posited, his curiosity seemingly getting the better of him.

Looking towards the Lord Commander's tower, Viserys also wondered on the nature of the conversation transpiring therein. Several ideas sprang into his mind, but the one most prominent came hand-in-hand with the conversation Viserys had shared with Sho-Yu several weeks prior. "Tomorrow I will petition the Lord Commander to organize another ranging past the wall where you and your brothers were last. If he declines, then we will go."

'If he can convince the Smalljon to lend men in assistance towards discovering the Bloodraven's location,' Viserys idled on the thought, 'then it would be a mere trifle to persuade Mormont to attach me to the journey.'

"Most likely marriages to one of Umber's daughters," Waymar grumbled. "Especially if this 'gift' of the Lady Azula's people can indeed be inherited."

"Apparently it can," he snorted, "Or have you not heard of the Mormont siblings?"

Staring at dumbfounded faces, he sagged his shoulders and drew in a breath. "Maege and Azula Mormont?" he asked towards ever blank faces. "The daughters of Dacey Mormont, and granddaughters of Maege Mormont? The grandnieces of the Lord Commander who train on Dragonstone at this very moment?"

"We do not have as much of personal connection to Mormont as you do, Vis," Gared sighed, with the others following suit. "We were not the ones being groomed for Lord Commander, before those fools decided to take the decision out of Mormont's hands."

"I would do it again, and again, if I had to," he growled his response, remembering the girl's words, and the men he once would have called brothers, as he did so. Brushing off the anger stirring within him, he continued, watching as the others perked up from whatever ruminations had overtaken them with Gared's words. "When the Lord Commander had spoken to me of his grandnieces, I had thought it strange to transport them to a place such as Dragonstone. But now? Now I know. They had the gift, and no normal lord, no matter how rich or well-read, could hope to develop such a power without assistance. And thus far, the only place to do so is…"

"Dragonstone," Will finished his words, then looked towards the tower. "How long do you think?"

The statement remained vague, but Viserys knew what the question meant. "Since the moment she stepped foot on Westeros." He turned to face them in their walk, "Come. We should discuss this later, once I hold words with the Lord Commander and Sho-Yu myself."

"Princeling! Stop dallying about with your brothers, and walk faster! You'll never cover the Castle grounds at your pace!" Ser Alliser shouted from below.