The hall of Castle Black echoed with Eddard Stark's voice until it finally faded.
"That is the King's command," the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch said as he folded the letter. "Prepare yourselves—we will open the gates and let the Free Folk through..."
"Wait!" a voice suddenly interrupted.
Eddard turned toward the speaker and saw Stannis Baratheon rise from his seat.
"Lord Stannis, do you have an objection?"
"Your king," Stannis sneered, "what is his plan for housing tens of thousands of Free Folk?"
Eddard hesitated. "The letter does not specify."
"Which means he has no plan," Stannis scoffed, crossing his arms. "What happens when so many Free Folk move south and inevitably clash with the smallfolk of the Seven Kingdoms? Lord Stark, your North will bear the brunt of this."
"I am no longer the Warden of the North," Eddard replied evenly. "As for your concerns, I trust there will be solutions. His Majesty has also promised to march north with the Seven Kingdoms' armies to support the Wall. Once the army arrives, the Free Folk will not dare to stir up trouble."
"The King plans to march north with an army? For what purpose? Do you mean to tell me the Others truly exist?"
"They do," Jon Snow said firmly. "I saw them with my own eyes at the Fist of the First Men. Believe me, the Free Folk are not the enemy; the Others are."
"How much faith should we place in the word of a bastard?" a voice muttered.
"And a turncloak," added another.
"Not to mention an oathbreaker," came a third.
Jon clenched his fists, ready to shout out the truth of his parentage, but Eddard spoke first:
"I believe him! If the Others prove to be a lie, I will bear all the consequences."
Eddard's decisive words reverberated through the hall, silencing the dissent.
There was no doubt that the name Eddard Stark still carried immense weight, particularly among the Night's Watch.
For years, while the lords of the south had all but abandoned the Watch, it was the House Stark that had steadfastly supported the order.
Seeing Eddard's resolve, even Stannis fell silent.
Eddard nodded approvingly. "Very well. Since there are no further objections, we need someone to serve as an envoy and negotiate with the Free Folk."
"I'll go," Jon volunteered immediately.
Eddard studied him for a moment before nodding. "Very well, Jon Snow. You will go."
Jon nodded, ignoring the stares of the assembled men, and strode out of the hall.
As he waited near the gate for it to open, Eddard approached him.
"If you wish, I can reveal your true parentage to everyone," Eddard said.
"No need, Father," Jon replied. "Here at the Wall, the name Targaryen carries no more honor than Snow. It might even cause more trouble. And I do not want respect that comes from my name alone."
Eddard said nothing but laid a firm hand on Jon's shoulder.
The gates groaned as they slowly opened, allowing in a gust of frigid wind that carried ice and snowflakes, forcing Jon to narrow his eyes.
"Take care," Eddard said.
"You too," Jon replied before turning to face the storm, striding into the wilderness without hesitation.
---
It wasn't long before Jon Snow was spotted by a group of patrolling Free Folk. After explaining his purpose, they escorted him to the tent of the King-Beyond-the-Wall, Mance Rayder.
"Back again, crow," Mance said, his tone neutral. "I must admit, I'm impressed by your courage. Coming to see me after your betrayal."
"I've come to save you," Jon said.
"Save us?" Mance raised an eyebrow. "And how do you plan to do that?"
"His Majesty has agreed to let you and your people pass through the Wall."
"Which Majesty?" Mance asked dryly. "In recent years, your Iron Throne has changed hands so often it's hard to keep track."
"King Caesar."
"Caesar..." Mance's expression grew pensive. "I remember that lad. I met him once, back at the Trident. He was just a minor lord back then."
"You've met Caesar?" Jon asked, surprised. He had only heard stories of the man who now sat on the Iron Throne.
"Once," Mance confirmed. "He was... an interesting fellow. But tell me, what conditions come with this offer to let us through?"
"You cannot attack the people of the Seven Kingdoms. All chieftains must swear allegiance to King Caesar and accept his arrangements."
"Allegiance?" Mance interrupted, his voice hard. "Does he expect us to kneel?"
"Yes," Jon said simply. "If you wish to pass the Wall, you must abandon your identity as Free Folk."
"Do you know why I left the Night's Watch?" Mance asked.
"Why?"
"Because I was tired of kneeling," Mance said coldly. "My people are born free. Without freedom, we might as well be dead."
"What you face beyond the Wall may be worse than death," Jon countered. "You've seen what happens to the dead—they rise again. If you stay beyond the Wall, that will be your fate."
"And you think the Wall can stop us?" Mance chuckled and gestured toward a corner of the tent.
There, Jon saw a massive horn.
The horn was enormous, its curved length spanning nearly eight feet. The bell was wide enough to fit an arm, and its golden surface was etched with ancient runes, tarnished and faded with time.
Jon's blood ran cold. He remembered the stories.
"The Horn of Winter?"
"Indeed," Mance said. "This is the Horn of Winter. Legend has it that if it is blown, the Wall will crumble."
"It's just a legend. No one has ever tried..."
"Once, the Others were just legends too," Mance said, his hand tracing the horn's curve. "But now, all the old stories are coming to life."
Jon swallowed hard. "If you had the horn, why didn't you use it before? Why attack the Wall?"
"If the Wall falls, what will stop the Others?" Mance asked rhetorically. "I underestimated you crows. Despite your dwindling numbers, you were harder to fight than I expected.
But understand this: if I am left with no other choice—or if your demands are too harsh—I will use the horn."
Jon fell silent. His confidence from earlier was beginning to waver.
"You can't decide this," Mance said, breaking the silence. "Send your King Caesar to meet me. I'm sure he will offer terms we can both accept."
Jon glanced again at the imposing horn before nodding stiffly. "I will deliver your message. But I can't guarantee the King will come."
"He will," Mance said with a confident smile. "Last time we met, we got along well. He won't refuse an old friend."
(End of Chapter)