"The three of you," Tormund said, sweeping a pile of chicken bones into the brazier, sending sparks flying into the cold night air. "You've been chattering away for hours, but have you forgotten old Tormund? What about the people under my command? When can we pass through the Wall?"Eddard didn't answer directly. Instead, he studied the fire for a moment before speaking. "And what of the cannibals? Have they all been brought under control?"Tormund's eyes glinted with a hard edge. "They have. The moment you give the order, they will disappear from this world. I have no patience for those who feast on their own kind." His voice, usually full of boisterous laughter, was now edged with a ruthlessness that made even the Free Folk take notice.Eddard turned to him, his gaze steady. "But consider this carefully," he said, his voice cold and deliberate. "That's at least two thousand people—young, strong, and dangerous. Arm them, and they could become warriors. Can you bear the consequences of such a choice?"Tormund's jaw tightened, but Eddard's words seemed to cut through him in a way few others could. "Many would take up arms for the North, for House Karstark," Eddard continued. His tone was calm, yet unyielding, like steel forged in ice. "If I were to keep these cannibals under my command, night after night would be sleepless. Fear would rule their hearts, and so it must. Kill them all. Burn them with fire. Then swear to the gods that you will fight alongside the Night's Watch. Only then may your people pass through the Wall, Tormund."Tormund frowned, his booming voice subdued. "That's it?" he muttered. His mind raced through all the work he and his sons had done—organizing the Free Folk, managing supplies, cutting wood, burning corpses—and now this was the reward? No weapons, no armor, just a cold command and a test of loyalty. Deep down, he wished to cooperate with Jon Snow, whose character inspired a reluctant respect. But here he was, forced to bend under the authority of Eddard Karstark, a man stronger, more cunning, and far more ruthless than he could ever hope to be.Eddard noticed the tension immediately. The signs of displeasure were written all over Tormund's face. Yet, instead of pressing the matter further, he smiled lightly and turned to Jon Snow. "Of course not. Your Free Folk will need to work alongside the Night's Watch to defend the nineteen castles along the Wall. This is a critical duty, and there are supplies reserved for such a purpose. Bowen Marsh, the Steward, has the provisions ready—wine, food, warm clothes, tools for repairing houses. Jon will distribute them gradually."The words were a lesson in strategy: loyalty cannot always be forced. Hearts are won in many ways, and not every ally needs to kneel to fight beside you. Some will follow you through fire and snow without obligation, while others, though sworn to allegiance, will betray at the first chance. Understanding this, Eddard had mastered the art of governance in both war and peace.Tormund considered this and smacked his lips. "Alright," he said grudgingly. "They're not weapons, but they'll do."Eddard's gaze shifted, calculating. "Weapons?" he said. "Actually, I have prepared some spear shafts and arrow shafts. Jon, I have another task for you."Jon's eyes narrowed. "What task?"Eddard studied him, measuring his response. "Samwell Tarly," he began, "your friend—has he seen you since his return to Black Castle?""Yes," Jon admitted, his face tightening. "He begged me to intercede to free his brother from prison. He also recognized House Tarly's ancestral weapon in your possession and hopes to redeem it.""Of course," Eddard said with a wry smile, "but Sam lacks the courage to speak directly. He trembles at the thought of approaching me, haunted by the loss of the Free Folk under the iron heel—tens of thousands of souls lost in a single night because they refused to surrender."Jon's expression softened with sympathy. "He's timid, yes. Standing before you would terrify him."Eddard chuckled quietly. "Tell him Deacon Tarly will leave Twin River City soon. There's no need to worry too much. And regarding the weapon," he lifted Heartbreaker, its rippling steel glinting in the firelight, "as long as House Tarly can afford it, redemption is possible. That, in itself, is minor. What truly matters is what Sam has done. He killed a White Walker with a dragonglass dagger. That proves that even one with no combat prowess can stand against darkness if armed with the right tools."Jon nodded. "I found that dagger near the Fist of the First Men, wrapped in a Night's Watch cloak. Besides it, there were some spearheads and arrowheads, though most were given as talismans to my brothers. Many are now lost or destroyed."Eddard's expression hardened. "Dragonglass weapons are among the few things that can truly harm the Others. If a timid man like Sam can strike down a White Walker, it is proof enough. We must ensure more weapons are made." He paused. "Skagos holds dragonglass deposits, and the Night's Watch fleet is docked at Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. You could mine the dragonglass and forge more weapons. Dragonstone also holds large reserves, but Stannis is occupied, and Winterfell remains under Robb's control. We cannot risk opening another front."Jon considered this. "Perhaps trade would be safer. We've confiscated gold, silver, gems, and amber from recent battles. If we exchange them for dragonglass with Skagos' wildlings, we might avoid unnecessary bloodshed."Eddard nodded. "Fine. Decide among yourselves. Should you face obstacles, write to Winterfell. I will assist as much as I can. I cannot linger at Black Castle forever; the South demands my attention, as do Stannis, Daenerys, and the brewing chaos in Westeros. Eventually, the Wall will fall to you, Jon, and I trust you will not fail your people."Jon quickly agreed. "Understood. We will act." He had expected Eddard to enforce his commands ruthlessly, yet the Karstark had shown flexibility—a quality Jon respected deeply.Eddard turned back to Tormund with a smile. "Hornblower, I have one more matter for your help."Tormund's laughter boomed. "What is it, Eddard Karstark? I will do my best—but I want armor and weapons—six sets, one for each of my sons and me.""Done," Eddard said, rising and lifting Heartbreaker. "Come with me to find Marga."Marga, the strongest of the giants, had been severely wounded in a duel with Eddard's magic. Despite this, he had not died. His resilience surpassed that of ordinary men by miles. The tent flap opened, and a cold gust of wind swept in, carrying the scorched scent of wood and burning corpses. Eddard tightened his cloak and glanced at Ghost, Jon's white direwolf with blood-red eyes, who followed faithfully behind, silent and alert.Outside, the Free Folk watched the small parade of men, a bear, and a wolf. Even the boldest raiders lowered their heads, unwilling to meet the eyes of these powerful figures. Fear of the gods outweighed fear of death itself.Marga lay beneath a towering weirwood, his thick fur keeping him warm. When he saw the group, he smiled, revealing formidable teeth. Unable to understand the Old Tongue, Eddard relied on Tormund for translation. Giants did not negotiate as humans did—they obeyed strength and promises. Marga had already pledged obedience if Eddard defeated him and ensured his people would not starve.The negotiation took hours. Marga had to understand the concept of dividing the tribe into three parts and living separately until summoned for battle. Eventually, the giant agreed. He had been well-fed and even offered wine, which he had enjoyed thoroughly.With arrangements finalized, Eddard's mood brightened. He mounted Avalanche and, accompanied by Jon and several Night's Watch brothers, returned through the passage toward Black Castle, their laughter echoing through the cold northern air. Not all black-cloaked men were corrupt; Dolorous Edd and Emmet of Eastwatch-by-the-Sea had proven themselves honorable warriors..Yet just as the group chatted, a chill sharper than the northern wind swept over Eddard. Ice-blue light flashed in the dim forest behind them. He blinked, and it vanished. The forest remained still, silent, as if nothing had passed through. The illusion—or the threat—lingered, a reminder that the world beyond the Wall remained as deadly as ever.---
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