Chapter 236

With one sharp statement, Aegor cut through Mance Rayder’s pretense. The King Beyond the Wall fell silent, his arms resting on the table as he brooded. After a moment, he spoke, his face grim.

“The days grow shorter, the nights colder, and the creatures stalking the woods grow stronger. Their range creeps closer to the Wall, and fire and dragonglass no longer kill them as effectively as they once did. If we cannot pass the Wall soon, my people and I will all die in the Haunted Forest and rise as the White Walkers’ puppets.”

For once, Mance abandoned his word games, starting anew with grim honesty. Jon stood by with a hand on his sword hilt, while the senior officers of the Night’s Watch turned their full attention to the wildling leader. Jeremy Rykker, the First Ranger, shrugged, his tone icy.

“Well, that sounds like good news. The Night’s Watch and the Seven Kingdoms won’t have to worry about wildlings anymore.”

Mance didn’t rise to the bait. “I admit it—your defenses are impeccable. If you won’t let us through, the Free Folk have no chance of breaking through on their own.” He leaned forward, his voice steady. “But do you not wonder why I chose Frostfangs, so far from the Wall, as the place to gather my people? Why it took us so long to march here after uniting over a hundred tribes? Guess what we were doing in all that time.”

“Wasn’t it because you dragged too much baggage and slowed yourselves down?” Mormont said, his displeasure clear. “Months ago, Qhorin Halfhand interrogated a wildling prisoner. He warned me you might be searching for some mysterious method to breach the Wall. I considered sending a ranging party to investigate, but circumstances forced me to abandon the plan. Regardless, here’s a suggestion: stop wasting our time with rhetorical questions. We’re not here for idle chatter.”

“Fair enough.” Mance raised his hands in a gesture of mock surrender before revealing the answer. “Qhorin was right. My old commander knew me too well. I led over a hundred tribes southward along the Frostfangs and the Milkwater, digging into every barrow and tomb we found. We were searching for a legendary artifact—the Horn of Winter. It’s said that Joramun, a King Beyond the Wall from a thousand years ago, blew this horn to wake giants from the earth. They say that if you blow it near the Wall, it will crumble.”

Jeremy snorted. “I’ve heard that story too. If such a horn existed, why didn’t Joramun blow it back then? Let me guess—you claim you’ve found it, and now you’re threatening to bring down the Wall unless we let you pass. Do you take us for fools?”

Mance shrugged. “The stories are just that—stories. I don’t know if the horn works, and I’ve never tested it. Some of my people wanted to try, but I stopped them. If the Wall does fall, what’s left to stop the White Walkers from flooding south and destroying us all? No matter what happens, I won’t risk unleashing that.”

Mormont’s interest was piqued. “So, you’ve found a legendary horn, but you don’t know if it works, and you’re unwilling to test it. In that case, how is it any different from not existing at all?”

“Because I know what’s more important—my survival or humanity’s survival,” Mance replied. “Yes, I deserted the Night’s Watch and joined the Free Folk, making me a traitor by your rules. But what about the thousands of Free Folk beyond the Wall? They have parents, lovers, children. They eat and drink just as the people south of the Wall do. How are they any different from you?”

“How are they different?” Bowen Marsh sneered. “The people south of the Wall don’t raid across it to kill and plunder. They don’t steal women to take as wives.”

“That’s because the South has mild weather and abundant resources. You can live well without risking your lives!” Mance’s voice rose. “Even in harsh conditions, raiders are a minority. A few hot-headed men cross the Wall for spoils and glory, no different from criminals forced to take the black or soldiers hoping for honor. And most of those men died attacking the Wall. What remains are the innocent. Why would you rather let the Free Folk die and rise as your enemies than let them pass and stand with you against death itself?”

“Oh, how noble,” Bowen scoffed. “Opening the gates is easy. But what next? Do we let wildlings overrun the Gift, let giants camp in Winterfell’s ruins, and cannibals butcher mountain clans in the Wolfswood? Raiders will pillage White Harbor and rape the Neck’s daughters. The Night’s Watch doesn’t need outside help to keep the White Walkers at bay.”

“And what gives you that confidence?” Mance asked sharply. “The mountain clans? They’ve been invaluable to you, no doubt. But my wargs see through eagle eyes, tracking your movements. I know you struggle to feed your people, and the North is too beleaguered to keep supporting you. So why cling to prejudice when you know the real enemy is at your doorstep? Let us through! We’ve brought all our winter stores—enough to share with you and keep us all alive until Braavosi aid arrives.”
----


Aegor sighed in relief. Thankfully, Mance had chosen the route of reason and desperation rather than threats. When Mance mentioned the Horn of Winter, Aegor had feared the King Beyond the Wall was foolish enough to use coercion. If that had happened, negotiations would have been doomed. The Night’s Watch would never accept a threat to the Wall.

“No one wants you dead for the sake of it,” Mormont replied. “But there are two problems. First, who guarantees the Free Folk will behave once inside? Second, you claim you have winter stores, but you’re talking about feeding tens of thousands. How much could you possibly have?”

“I’ve never commanded a hundred thousand wildlings,” Mance admitted. “There may have been that many north of the Wall, but by the time we realized what hunted us in the woods and began to band together, thousands had already perished. When I gathered the tribes in the Frostfangs, we numbered seventy thousand. At our peak, we reached eighty thousand. But after battles, losses to the Walkers, and desertions, our numbers are halved.”

“Half?” Mormont raised an eyebrow. “You’ve lost forty thousand? We didn’t kill nearly that many.”

“Most of our losses weren’t in battle,” Mance said, his tone bitter. “The greatest threat is the things that stalk at night. To avoid them, we stay close to the Wall but out of sight. Even with fire and dragonglass, the Walkers’ raids cost us dearly. On lucky nights, we burned the dead. On bad nights, we failed, and by morning, our enemies grew by the dozens.”

He paused, his voice grim. “To survive, I made a hard choice: I ordered the sick, the wounded, and the elderly to end their lives. We used poison berries and burned the bodies. Now, only thirty thousand remain.”

The room fell silent, the Night’s Watch officers stunned by Mance’s revelation. Some, like Bowen Marsh, were horrified by the brutal pragmatism. Others, like Jon Snow, who bore no personal hatred for the Free Folk, couldn’t help but feel pity.

Aegor’s mind raced. The wildlings had culled their own numbers to preserve their strength. Thirty thousand young and able-bodied people, stripped of dependents, stood before him as a workforce without equal. It was a golden opportunity.
----


Mance had laid all his cards on the table. Now, it was up to the Night’s Watch to decide. After a tense discussion, Mormont gave his reluctant agreement. For now, the gates would remain closed, but the Watch would prepare to dictate terms should they decide to open them. The final decision would come soon, and both sides braced for what lay ahead.