Version 2.0
"I want to talk about the future. Our future. Yours, mine, and everyone else's." He gestured grandly. "A world where we're not bound by these old divisions, where we can all work together, prosper together. It's not just a dream, my friends—it's something we can build, right here, starting today."
Connall walked back and forth as he spoke, his voice a smooth rhythm, rising and falling in time with the crowd's energy. "I know there's been bad blood. I made a mistake and I accept the responsibility and -"
One of the villagers, an older man with greying hair, stepped forward suddenly. His face was red with anger, and he pushed his way through the crowd to stand right in front of Connall. "You talk about a better future, Connall, but I remember what your men did. You led the attack that burned down my house! My family barely made it out and then we had to watch everything go up in flames! You want us to trust you now?"
The crowd hushed. Connall's smile never faltered as his expression softened. He raised his hands in a gesture of apology.
"You're right," Connall said, his voice steady. "You're right, and I won't stand here and make excuses for what happened. It was wrong. But I'm here now, trying to make amends. In fact—" he paused, spreading his arms wide, "I'll personally provide the wood and materials to rebuild your house. Consider it amends, not to erase the past, but to show that I'm sincere about building something better for all of us."
The old man wasn't so easily swayed. His eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer, practically nose to nose with Connall. "Oh, you'll give me the resources, will you? How 'generous'. Are you willing to work on it yourself? Will you lift a hammer and help me rebuild the home *you* destroyed?"
Connall did not hesitate "Of course I will, I take on what I cause, and it would be my pleasure to help." he said, his tone light. "I'm not above hard work. If it comes to it, I'll be there, hammer in hand." He flashed another quick smile.
The old man scrutinized Connall for a moment longer, then waved him off. "You seem too much like a pretty boy to lift a hammer, I'll just take the wood," he muttered, stepping back into the crowd.
Connall let out a breath, as he smiled at the group. He turned back to the crowd, his charm dialled up once more and the people muttered and seemed happy with what Connall said.
"As I was saying, we all have a past. But I believe we can move beyond it. The Old Gods, the Celtic gods—whoever you worship, they're all watching. And I promise you, we can make this North stronger than it's ever been."
He paused. Letting many of the villagers nod and get caught up in the vision Connall was painting, the allure of something different.
"We can all be part of something greater, together. Your leaders are failing you, they barely feed you whilst they live in their castle eating all the food they need." The crowd began to murmur though many of them looked displeased at Connell. Connell smiled before moving the conversation on.
Connall's voice grew in passion, his gestures more grandiose, as he stoked the flames of the crowd. "You don't have to believe in everything I say right away. I'm not asking for blind faith. All I'm asking is that you look at the world around you. Is this the best we can do? There is a better way. A *new* way."
Connall's words hung in the air. He smiled warmly. And Brandon watched the most dangerous thing he had ever seen.
As Connell's speech began to wind down, he gave the crowd one last disarming grin. "I'd love to stay and chat all day, but I know you all have things to do, and so do I. I'll be around, though, so don't be strangers! And remember, if anyone needs a helping hand, I'm here for you."
With that, Connell waved, and the crowd gradually began to disperse, buzzing with chatter as they all eagerly talked with each other. Connell glanced once more at the people leaving, his eyes scanning the faces before turning and walking away, his men close behind him. True to his word, a cartload of wood was delivered to the villager whose home had burned soon after.
/
The next day, as his men rested and recuperated, Brandon learned that Connell and his band of followers had left Winterfell. They hadn't waited for a fight and had instead slipped away, moving deeper into the surrounding lands.
Early that morning, Brandon and his army set out in pursuit. Connell, however, wasn't fleeing. It quickly became clear that he wasn't interested in open conflict either. Every time Brandon closed in, Connell would skirt around not attempting to engage in battle. Instead, Connell would try and approach villages, talking to the people of the lands recently raided and attacked by the Blackwood King. His army was slower than Brandon's, bogged down by disorganization and lack of training, but Connell himself was still managing to gather followers, spreading his message wherever he could.
Brandon's army, by contrast, was disciplined and efficient. Whenever Connell approached a settlement, Brandon made sure his men were there first, a visible presence to block Connell from entering. It didn't always work as sometimes villagers snuck out to hear what Connell had to say, as nothing interests people more than being told they should not listen to something. The harder Brandon tried to suppress Connell's voice, the more some of the people seemed to want to hear it.
As the chase continued, Brandon began to notice something about Connell's army. Unlike his men, who were well-supplied thanks to Winterfell's stores and the growing success of the winter-resistant crops, Connell's army was struggling. They were living off the land, scavenging whatever they could find. Hunting was sparse in the cold plains, and their supplies were undatable running low. Despite this, Connell somehow managed to keep his men together.