South of the Wall, in that vast expanse of land forgotten by the people of Westeros, it had never been as lively as it was today.
One hundred thousand Free Folk, like sediment washed down by a flood, poured into this land that had been silent for a thousand years.
Families dragging their belongings, herding scrawny cattle and sheep, pulled all their worldly possessions on crude sleds.
Newly erected, crooked tents made of animal hides were scattered sporadically across every inch of land here.
Countless campfires sent wisps of smoke curling into the air.
Fights and curses were frequent.
Two tribes' warriors drew blades on each other over a leeward camping spot.
A group of ragged children brawled over a stray snow sheep.
Chaos, disorder.
These hundred thousand mouths waiting to be fed were like a heavy mountain pressing down on Castle Black's already stretched granaries.
The Gift was a desolate place where birds wouldn't even shit; not even Northmen were willing to venture here. This news wouldn't reach King's Landing anytime soon.
Putting aside the fact that he held Myrcella, he had already informed Sansa of this via Greensight and had her relay it to Ned.
On the other side, he told Robb to manage his bannermen well.
Let them think for themselves first.
The North and Lynn were grasshoppers on the same rope; they would inevitably be implicated. When the time came, the entire North would be forced to stand with him.
That meant an army of over 150,000 waiting to face the enemy.
In the War of the Five Kings, Tywin Lannister only mustered 60,000 troops. Any faction would have to consider this carefully.
Furthermore, a wight was already on its way to King's Landing. If Robert remained obstinate, then it would be war.
He now possessed the ability to turn corpses into wights, create White Walkers, and even summon Frost Giants. War would only make him stronger.
The Gold Cloaks were also on standby. The wildfire in King's Landing wasn't only controllable by others; Lynn could control it too!
If it really came to war with the Seven Kingdoms, don't blame him for becoming the next Night King Cersei.
To claim kingship, this would be an inevitable process.
If he didn't dare take even this much risk, he might as well pledge loyalty to the King and be his dog.
As a transmigrator, he at least had this much confidence.
Even if he failed, he could find opportunities to rise again in Essos.
What was there to fear?
"Lynn, this can't go on."
In the study of the Lord Commander's Tower, worry was written all over Jon Snow's face.
"Our food stores will last half a month at most."
"And they have absolutely no discipline. There have been over a dozen bloody conflicts just today."
"Although most of it is infighting, and they're obedient for now, not attacking the original inhabitants."
Lynn stood before a large sand table, holding several wooden pieces representing different tribes, planning something.
Hearing Jon's words, he didn't even look up.
"Panic is temporary, Jon."
"They are like drowning men who have drifted at sea for too long."
"Having just stepped onto land, they will naturally fight frantically due to uncertainty about the future."
"Once the first stone houses are built, once the first batch of grain is distributed, they will settle down."
Lynn placed a piece carved with a giant's head at the northernmost point of the Gift, close to the foot of the Wall.
"Tormund's tribe, the best fighters and the most obedient. Station them here as the first line of defense."
"The Thenns, the most savage and unruly. Send them to the southernmost point, far away from the Wall."
"..."
Lynn's fingers moved constantly across the sand table, arranging the wildling tribes clearly and logically.
What he was planning wasn't just temporary camps, but brand-new villages, even the prototype of a city.
Jon watched Lynn's calm profile as he strategized, and the anxiety in his heart miraculously settled down considerably.
He suddenly realized that Lynn wasn't just thinking about solving the immediate trouble.
He was playing a grand game for the future of the entire North.
"Those masons you mentioned..."
"I've already had Myrcella send ravens to White Harbor in the name of House Lannister."
Lynn put down the piece in his hand and looked at Jon.
"House Manderly is the wealthiest bannerman in the North, and also the best shipwrights and builders."
"Tell them I'm buying their stone and labor at a high price."
"Money isn't a problem; I have plenty of that."
Jon nodded.
Just then, there was a knock on the door.
"Come in."
It was Mance Rayder who walked in.
He had changed out of the leather armor worn for years of campaigning and put on a clean black robe.
He looked more like a bard than the King-Beyond-the-Wall who commanded an army of a hundred thousand.
His gaze swept over the large sand table, a complex emotion flashing in his wise eyes.
"Jon, could you step out for a moment?"
Mance said.
"I have some words I'd like to speak with Lord Commander Lynn alone."
Jon nodded, tactfully retreating and closing the door behind him.
In the study, only Lynn and Mance remained.
"You've done well."
Mance walked to the sand table, looking at the tribe distribution planned so orderly by Lynn.
"Better than I did."
"It took me so many years to barely twist these unruly tribes into a single rope, yet they remained like loose sand."
"And you, you did it in a day."
Mance's tone carried a heartfelt sigh, even a hint of relief.
"I relied on fists and a dragon," Lynn said calmly.
"No." Mance shook his head.
"You relied on this."
He pointed to Lynn's head.
"The Free Folk aren't stupid; they're just used to solving problems in the most direct way."
"They follow the strong, but they follow a leader who can bring them hope even more."
"That blockhead Tormund might not understand what you've drawn on this sand table."
"But he knows that by following you, he and his people can live in stone houses, and the women of his tribe won't have to give birth in the ice and snow."
"This is more persuasive than any sword."
Mance walked around the sand table once, finally stopping in front of Lynn.
He looked deeply into Lynn's eyes.
"I was once a man of the Night's Watch. I swore an oath to be the shield that guards the realms of men."
"But I watched helplessly as the wildlings starved beyond the Wall, hunted by those monsters, while I could only guard this cold Wall, able to do nothing."
"So I fled. I became a traitor."
"I thought if I could bring them across the Wall, I could save them."
"Now I know I was wrong."
Mance's voice became incredibly solemn.
He slowly knelt on one knee, lowering the head that had never bowed to anyone.
"I, Mance Rayder, former ranger of the Night's Watch, former leader of the Free Folk."
"Willingly hand over the authority of the King-Beyond-the-Wall to you, Lord Commander Lynn."
"From this day forth, you are the only King of the Free Folk."
Lynn looked at the man kneeling before him.
This kneel represented a heavy responsibility landing on his shoulders.
"Rise, Mance."
Lynn reached out to help him up.
"The Free Folk do not kneel."
Mance stood up, his eyes slightly red.
He smiled, a smile of immense relief.
"You are right."
"But this title isn't glory; it's a shackle."
"Now, this shackle is yours to bear."
"Go, new King-Beyond-the-Wall."
Mance made a gesture of invitation.
"Your people are waiting for you."
---
At the foot of the Wall, on the edge of the Gift.
A roaring bonfire was lit on a temporary platform built of countless huge stones.
Tens of thousands of Free Folk emerged from their tents, gathering beneath the platform.
They whispered among themselves, looking at the figures on the platform with gazes of curiosity, awe, and doubt.
Lynn, Mance Rayder, Tormund, and other tribal chieftains.
"Quiet!"
Tormund's loud voice instantly drowned out all the noise.
He walked to the edge of the platform, looking down at the dark mass of people below.
"I know what you're all thinking!"
"You're thinking, why should we listen to a Southerner!"
"You're thinking, have we turned from wolves into dogs!"
"I'll tell you!"
Tormund pointed at Lynn standing in the center, his voice full of fervor.
"It was this Southerner who knocked me flying with one punch!"
"It was this Southerner who, all by himself, beat down every single one of our tribal chieftains!"
"He has magic! He can create ice swords harder than our sharpest axes!"
A gasp erupted from the crowd.
Tormund didn't stop; he continued to roar:
"He also has a dragon! A three-headed dragon!"
"He could have burned us all to ash! But he didn't!"
"He gave us land! Gave us food! He's going to build us stone houses!"
"Damn it, I've lived this long and never thought I'd live in a stone house one day!"
Tormund's words were crude and direct, but they instantly ignited the fire in the hearts of all the Free Folk.
Stone houses!
Warm hearths!
The promise of no more starvation!
Wasn't this the dream their ancestors had pursued for generations?
At this moment, Mance Rayder stepped forward.
He looked at the excited and fervent faces below.
"I once sang for you, sang of freedom and bravery."
"I once led you south, seeking survival and hope."
"But today, I offer my loyalty to another King."
Mance's voice echoed in the cold wind.
"We Free Folk have no King."
"We only follow the strong who can lead us to survival!"
"Now, he is here!"
Mance turned abruptly, pointing at Lynn!
"He is our new King!"
"King-Beyond-the-Wall!"
After a brief silence.
"Roar—!"
Tormund was the first to raise his arm and shout, letting out a beast-like roar!
Immediately following, tens of thousands of Free Folk below the platform all raised their weapons!
Bone spears, stone axes, rusted longswords...
They used all their strength to beat their chests and shields, letting out a roar like a landslide or tsunami!
"King-Beyond-the-Wall!"
"King-Beyond-the-Wall!!"
The sound wave soared into the sky, seemingly threatening to shake the snow off the Wall.
They embraced their new King in the most primitive and sincere way.
Lynn stood on the high platform, looking down at the fervent ocean below.
He didn't speak.
He simply slowly drew Longclaw from his waist and pointed the tip high.
A silent declaration, louder than a thousand words.