Managing the migration of thousands of people was a task both cumbersome and exhausting. Yet, Black Castle was well suited to the job. Its wide halls and expansive grounds could accommodate up to five thousand people at peak capacity, making it an ideal transit point for the Free Folk.The Night's Watch had anticipated such scenarios. A trained group of stewards worked alongside the soldiers, coordinating logistics and guiding the women and children to designated villages. Once settled, these groups could begin restoring dilapidated homes and acclimating to their new surroundings.Some villages, blessed with relatively mild climates or geothermal springs, even had the potential to cultivate crops. Eddard had initially doubted this notion—after all, snow had already begun to blanket the ground—but the stewards insisted it was possible. Experience in this world, he realized, could not always compete with the knowledge of natives, especially in a land governed by fantasy. Low fantasy, after all, still contained marvels that defied conventional logic.Other settlements, situated near forests or the coast, could sustain themselves through hunting and fishing until winter's true severity arrived. The Free Folk adapted quickly; women with half-grown children followed the stewards' guidance with surprising efficiency. Perhaps the slaughter they had witnessed firsthand had instilled a sense of order. Perhaps the legend of the Lord of Thunder had begun to spread, inspiring awe and obedience among the tribes. In any case, their behavior remained honest and cooperative, with virtually no issues arising.The few problems that did occur came from some members of the Night's Watch. A handful of men, clad in black but lacking discipline, began harassing women. These offenders were swiftly apprehended and hanged in Black Castle's courtyard, before the eyes of the many. The lesson was clear, and the incidents ceased. Beyond that, the migration proceeded smoothly.Even from his vantage in King's Tower, Eddard could see the faint smoke rising above the Wall—evidence of the Free Folk burning the bodies of the dead. Jon Snow had managed the aftermath admirably, ensuring that the chaos outside the Wall was largely cleaned up.Time passed quietly in the midst of this busy work. One clear afternoon, a caravan of supplies from Winterfell arrived, easing the threat of empty warehouses at Black Castle. Leading the group was Ser Rodrik, master-at-arms of Winterfell."My lord," Ser Rodrik said with a respectful bow, "His Majesty instructed me to inform you that, once the Free Folk situation is mostly handled, he hopes you will return to Winterfell as soon as possible. Sansa Stark has already returned."Eddard raised his eyes from a pile of documents, confused. "Where is our King, then?"Ser Rodrik answered solemnly, "His Majesty personally led troops to Wolfswood to eradicate the Ironborn. Sansa Stark currently oversees affairs in his absence."Eddard nodded. "I understand. Ser, you've traveled far. Go find Bowen Marsh, the Lord Steward; he will provide warm lodgings and hot food for your men."Grateful, Ser Rodrik bowed again and departed. Eddard clicked his tongue, thinking about Sansa. He had not seen her in some time. She was just over thirteen now, yet he wondered whether she had grown as clumsy or awkward as she had been before.Outside, the North was alive with the sounds of axes striking wood and the bustle of activity. The Free Folk camp, a mile away, was a hive of motion. Bonfires dotted the snowy landscape, their columns of smoke resembling chaotic fingers reaching toward the gray sky.Eddard rode Avalanche, his massive snow bear, two and a half meters tall at the shoulder, through the throng until he reached a pure white tent marked by a pair of giant antlers, like a moose's head mounted as decoration. Two guards flanked the entrance.The one in golden scale armor, holding a bronze spear, immediately knelt. This was clearly a Thenn, and his respect for Eddard was evident. The other, Dormund, wore animal hide armor and carried a jagged long knife. He was one of Tormund's sons and stood awkwardly, unsure how to greet a human lord. Dormund recognized that the Free Folk's world had fundamentally shifted, and old traditions now clashed sharply with new customs."Rise," Eddard commanded, dismissing the tension. Swinging his leg off Avalanche, he patted the bear's massive head, allowing her to roam freely. He had named her Avalanche because of her unstoppable charge. Later, he planned to have blacksmiths craft armor for her, enhancing her already formidable strength. For now, she would remain with the Night's Watch.Dormund lifted the tent flap nervously. "My lord, please enter. My father, Styr, and Jon Snow are waiting inside."The interior was warm and inviting. Thick animal hide rugs covered the floor, while iron basins filled with burning charcoal glowed dimly in the corners, smoke curling toward a small opening at the top. Three figures sat around a table, engrossed in conversation, unaware of Eddard's arrival.Tormund, hungrily tearing at a roasted chicken, muttered, "This mess has shrunk our numbers by at least a third. Most bodies have been recovered; the rest must be hiding or already dead."Styr's expression was grim. "That Ghost Shadow Forest, with all its snow, makes finding stragglers impossible. Shadows roam each night, trying to snuff out fires and sneak into the camp.""I even saw Slit the Rotten Tooth last night," Tormund added, his face losing its customary grin. The infamous cannibal had eluded capture and was likely gathering new threats.Eddard's voice cut through the tension. "White Walkers?"Jon Snow nodded. "The Free Folk call them that. Ghostly, deadly creatures—enemies far worse than wights."Tormund gestured violently, describing his own narrow escape. The creature he encountered was over two meters tall, swaying silently. Its armor shimmered in a terrifying gradient of white and blue. His fine steel axe shattered against its weapon, a thin, ice-like sword that seemed to pulse with its own cold energy. "The only way to survive," he admitted, "was to strike its glowing blue eyes."Eddard listened, nodding as he cleaned his hands of chicken bones in a brazier. "You've all performed admirably. This camp has been kept in order, and that deserves recognition."Supplies had arrived from Winterfell, including weapons and armor of exceptional quality. Eddard turned to Styr. "You will receive fifty sets of equipment—visored helmets, gorgets, chainmail, iron gauntlets and greaves, plate boots, longswords, and shields. Distribute them as you see fit."Styr's eyes lit up with gratitude. Though the Free Folk possessed crude armor of bronze and sinew, these gifts were far superior. Kneeling, he said solemnly, "Thank you, my lord."Eddard's expression turned serious. "A task lies ahead. Originally, Mance Rayder would have led half the Free Folk north to settle near Dreadfort, checking the Bolton family. He is dead. This mission now falls to you.""I will obey fully," Styr promised."Good. Keep the Free Folk in line. Do not cause conflicts with the residents along King's Road. Jon will assign guides."Jon Snow, the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, nodded. "I will ensure all orders are carried out. Your men remain under your control, Eddard, but the others will support in maintaining discipline."Eddard offered final instructions. "I will leave with only one hundred of my personal guards. The rest of my officers stay to help you settle the Free Folk. Remember, those who disobey must be dealt with swiftly. Use Longclaw if necessary."Jon acknowledged, a flicker of emotion passing through his eyes. Though a bastard, his loyalty to the Stark family had always been steadfast. Memories of growing up alongside Robb, Bran, and Rickon reinforced his determination to see Eddard's plans succeed.Eddard nodded. "Those three hundred men from Winterfell will also stay to assist in maintaining order. Robb has approved this arrangement. Ensure they follow discipline and respect the chain of command."Jon's gaze hardened. "I understand. Orders will be followed. Those who resist will be dealt with."Eddard rose, patting Avalanche once more. The snow outside was deepening, yet the camp burned with activity and order. He had managed the Free Folk, tamed chaos, and prepared for the next phase. His gaze swept over the camp, appreciating the effort of both his men and the Free Folk alike.The Lord of Thunder may have left his mark here, but the real work of leadership, discipline, and survival was only just beginning.---
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