The Wall now boasted a force of 500 Rangers and 4,000 regular Night's Watchmen. This number didn't include the Smiths, Tanners, Cooks, and other essential "support staff" who kept the Watch running. When counting the Wildlings, who had pledged to aid the Night's Watch voluntarily, the Wall's total manpower was close to 10,000—nearly rivaling the Night's Watch at its height. Though recent losses had been a blow, they were within the limits of what the Night's Watch could endure.
This was, however, the peak of their capacity. In recent years, Viserys had taken a census of all Westeros, estimating the population at around 17 million, with a maximum mobilizable force of about 350,000 troops. But sending such numbers to the Wall would be a logistical nightmare, and few soldiers had experience with White Walkers or wights. Time and acclimatization would be essential.
Viserys rode his dragon over Winterfell, pausing to remind Robb Stark to quickly inform the northern lords of the war preparations and to gather an army of 15,000 men to support the Wall. Without waiting for further discussion, he continued on his way.
"His Grace moves quickly. Westeros is fortunate to have such a king," observed Maester Luwin, watching the sky where Viserys and his dragon had just disappeared.
Robb, however, remained silent. While Luwin's tone held admiration, Robb felt a mixture of envy and frustration. Two years earlier, he had resented Viserys, seeing him as a usurper of sorts. But Catelyn and Ned had persuaded him to accept the reality. His marriage to a daughter of House Frey and the birth of two sons had further tempered his ambitions. And Viserys' generosity toward the North during the harsh winters, when crop failures had struck three years in a row, had softened the northern nobles' attitude. Famine had been avoided thanks to aid from the crown. Robb was still ambitious, but he lacked the leverage to act.
Viserys arrived near the Wall soon after. Over the past few years, the Wildlings had settled in nearly a hundred small communities south of the Wall, scattered between Deepwood Motte and the Wall itself.
Twice, riots had broken out among the Wildlings, both of which Viserys had personally subdued from the back of his dragon. Now, as his dragon passed over these settlements, the people below stopped to bow in respect.
At last, Viserys reached the top of the Wall and gazed northward at the Icebone Towers. Even from a distance, they looked less vivid than they had in the illusions Bloodraven once created for him, yet they exuded an undeniable sense of otherworldly menace. Natural landscapes are rarely symmetrical, with mountains and forests scattered haphazardly, but these Icebone Towers stood in unnatural alignment, stretching in regular intervals across the snowy plains beyond the Wall. They were unmistakably man-made, if by hands that were long gone.
"It's His Grace, Viserys!" one of the Night's Watch sentries shouted, catching sight of Viserys as he circled above the Wall. A few men rushed back to alert Lord Commander Ned Stark.
"So soon!" Jaime Lannister remarked, surprised when he heard that Viserys had already arrived. He hadn't expected the king to make it to the Wall so quickly.
Not everyone shared his sentiment, however. Edmure Tully, for instance, had mixed feelings. Not all accepted their fate in the Night's Watch as willingly. Edmure, now bound to the Wall, struggled with his exile, having attempted to preserve some semblance of his family's legacy by fathering several children with Wildling women. Each time he heard mention of House Targaryen, he felt a pang of resentment, and when Viserys had visited the Wall years earlier, Edmure had deliberately avoided him.
"Where is His Grace now?" Ned asked.
"My lord, when I last saw him, he was flying along the Wall on his dragon without landing. He should be heading toward the Shadow Tower."
"Hmph, after all the men we've lost, he's afraid to land?" Edmure muttered, though only Blackfish Brynden, standing closest, seemed to notice his remark.
"First, let's bring out the royal family's gifts," Ned commanded after a brief pause.
Meanwhile, Viserys had already inspected more than half of the Wall. He landed before a large crevice in the Wall, wide enough to hide a carriage. Despite its size, the crevice wasn't drafty; it didn't open fully to the outside.
He placed his hand on the Wall to check its current magic reserves.
Touching The Wall can absorb 45,437,120 Magic points.
The words hung before him. With less than 50 million magic points remaining, Viserys quickly calculated that the Wall would hold for less than half a year—far less than he had anticipated. He'd expected the Wall to have at least 30 million points remaining, making this depletion nearly 80% higher than predicted. It was clear that the Wall's energy consumption was escalating, though the exact cause was unknown.
Standing atop the Wall, Viserys took out a specialized high-powered telescope and focused it on the Fist of the First Men. There, he saw the tallest Icebone Tower, the Night King's base camp. Establishing his stronghold in such a place spoke to the Night King's confidence in his defenses.
Recalling the Night King's insolent expression from his visions—provocative, even mocking—Viserys felt a strong urge to test this adversary's true strength. But he had matters to attend to at Castle Black first. A king, no matter how high his position, must show respect to his allies and advisers.
Soon, the yellow dragon descended upon Castle Black. Ned led a group of Night's Watch officers and men to greet him. Edmure, however, attempted to slip away under the pretense of inspecting the warehouse, but Brynden blocked his path.
Brynden, now in his fifties, bore the harsh marks of the Wall's snow and wind. His face, weathered like the bark of an ancient tree, reflected years of hardship.
"Edmure, how long are you going to keep hiding?" Brynden asked.
"I…" Edmure faltered, words catching in his throat. He still hadn't come to terms with the punishment Viserys had imposed on House Tully. It was one thing to lose lands and castles, but Viserys had turned House Tully into a symbol of failure—a negative example contrasted against the revived House Darry. House Tully had become the opposite of loyalty, a public disgrace.
Brynden patted his nephew's shoulder. "You have six children. House Tully isn't without hope. Look at what Viserys and his sister once endured in Braavos—stripped of everything, forced into exile. And despite his strictness, Viserys has rewarded those Night's Watchmen who have proven their worth, even pardoning some who were sent to the Wall for their crimes. Your children are the future of House Tully."
With that, Brynden moved on, hurrying to catch up to Ned. Edmure stood still for a moment, contemplating Brynden's words, then quietly followed.