Ygritte's breath hitched.
Jeor Mormont, the "Old Bear," and Benjen Stark were equally stunned into silence by Lynn's shocking declaration.
They had suspected Lynn harbored such intentions before. But now that he had explicitly stated them, worry was inevitable.
Peace talks with the wildlings?
Giving the Free Folk a way to live?
After thousands of years of slaughter, the enmity between them and the wildlings was irreconcilable. How could such hatred be dissolved so easily?
If Benjen hadn't pleaded with Mormont to spare Ygritte, she likely would have been flayed and executed by now!
"Lynn, do you know what you are saying?"
Jeor Mormont ventured to ask.
Even his raven seemed to sense its master's unease, letting out several raucous croaks.
"I am very clear, Lord Commander."
Lynn's gaze shifted from Ygritte to Mormont's shocked and confused face.
"Our true enemy is not the wildlings coming south to survive."
"It is the monsters who can turn the dead into puppets and forge swords from ice."
"The Long Night is coming. We cannot afford to fight amongst ourselves."
Although the Night King had been quiet lately and hadn't actively attacked the Night's Watch, caution was an eternal truth.
Reaching a fragile consensus with the Night King today might lead to betrayal tomorrow. There were no eternal allies.
Lynn decided to change his strategy toward the wildlings starting now.
First, the wildlings were organizing an army of a hundred thousand. Since he was going to Essos, bringing the wildlings under his banner was the best choice, preventing the thousand Night's Watchmen from being overrun.
Second, to counter the threat from King's Landing. If Ned proved useless, Robb and his eighty thousand Northmen combined with the hundred thousand wildlings would be enough to handle any faction.
Third, since he was heading to Essos, he didn't need the thousand Night's Watchmen to slowly grind wildlings for experience points. Across the sea, the Dothraki awaited his conquest.
Therefore, the wildlings must be spared.
Jeor Mormont nodded. As Lord Commander, he knew better than anyone what was happening beyond the Wall.
Benjen Stark frowned deeply. He wanted to speak but didn't know where to start. Finally, he grasped the key issue.
"If we let the Free Folk in, how do we explain it to the King?"
"And why do you think Mance Rayder will trust you?"
"He was once one of us. He knows the grudge between our sides better than anyone."
"It's either you die, or I live."
Lynn's idea was too bold, too crazy.
Lynn smiled.
"Don't worry about the King. He can barely protect himself right now; he has no time or opportunity to care about matters here."
"Besides, the Night's Watch's original purpose was to defend against the dead, not the Free Folk. That was just a convention over time."
"Furthermore, the North is loyal to Robert. If he gets an extra hundred thousand obedient subjects, he'll be too happy to be angry."
"Even if he wants to pursue it, I have ways to deal with him."
"As for Mance."
Lynn pointed to the giant dragon head in the courtyard, curiously observing its surroundings.
"Because of that."
Winter seemed to sense its master's summons. It lowered its middle head and let out a low growl, a hint of confusion in its golden vertical pupils.
Even this inadvertent release of dragon aura caused the air in the dungeon to solidify.
Indeed.
What was more persuasive than a living dragon?
If they refused to submit, dragonfire would melt them.
The wildlings would submit in the end.
"Fine. Take her to the Lord Commander's Tower."
Mormont gave Ygritte in the cage a complicated look.
"Give her food, water, and a change of clean clothes."
---
News that Lynn intended to negotiate peace with Mance Rayder, the "King-Beyond-the-Wall," spread like wildfire through every corner of Castle Black within half a day.
The atmosphere in the mess hall was terrifyingly oppressive.
The usual crude cursing and raucous laughter were gone.
Everyone ate their black bread and stew in silence, but every pair of eyes was filled with shock, confusion, and a feeling of being made a fool of.
"Peace with wildlings? Has Lord Lynn gone mad?"
"How many of our brothers have wildlings killed! Now he wants us to sit at the same table with them?"
"I admit Lord Lynn is strong, but he hasn't thought this through. Wildlings are not kind people!"
Whispers rose from every corner of the mess hall, eventually merging into a surging undercurrent.
Inside the Lord Commander's Tower, the atmosphere was equally grave.
The First Ranger, the First Steward, the First Builder...
All the prominent figures of Castle Black were gathered here.
Their gazes focused on Lynn, who sat by the fire, leisurely wiping his sword.
"I object!"
A tall, thin man stood up abruptly. He was clearly a traditionalist.
"Wildlings are wildlings!"
"They are thieves, raiders, murderers!"
"The duty of the Night's Watch is to keep them beyond the Wall! Not to call them brothers!"
His words resonated with most of those present. They had survived fighting wildlings; the hatred was etched into their bones.
Lynn shook his head.
Thieves, raiders, murderers.
Were the people in this room any nobler than the wildlings?
Everyone was just trying to survive.
Just then, a long horn blast sounded from outside.
One blast.
It meant rangers returning.
Soon, heavy footsteps sounded outside the door.
The door was pushed open, and a young man in a black cloak, his face weathered by wind and frost, walked in.
Jon Snow.
The boyishness had faded from his face, replaced by the resolve and steadiness of a Northman.
When he saw Lynn in the room, light instantly lit up in his grey eyes.
"Lynn!"
He strode forward and gave Lynn a strong embrace.
"You're finally back."
"How was King's Landing? Is Father well?"
Jon's return eased the tension in the room slightly.
Lynn patted Jon's shoulder, signaling to talk later and discuss business first.
"Jon, what is the situation outside?" Lord Commander Mormont asked gravely.
Jon pulled a black cloth-wrapped bundle from his tunic and placed it on the table.
It was a map.
"We found this outside Craster's Keep."
There was a trace of lingering fear in Jon's voice.
"Mance seems to be gathering all the wildlings."
"I suspect he is very likely planning an attack on the Wall."
The room fell into a dead silence.
Lynn stood up, walked to the table, and picked up the map.
"How many of them?" Lynn looked at Jon.
"Countless." Jon's answer made everyone suck in a breath of cold air.
"Craster said almost every wildling beyond the Wall, from the Frostfangs to the Shivering Sea, has gathered under his banner."
"They are running too," Lynn stated bluntly.
"Running from those things."
"I propose a vote on this matter." Seeing the wavering expressions, Lord Commander Mormont decided to strike while the iron was hot.
He saw Lynn as his successor; right or wrong, he would stand with Lynn.
"Those in favor of Lynn negotiating peace with Mance Rayder, raise your hands."
After a brief silence.
Benjen Stark raised his hand first.
As First Ranger, he knew better than anyone how dire the situation beyond the Wall was. Although the dead were indifferent to them now, there was no guarantee they wouldn't attack someday.
Following him, a few others raised their hands hesitantly. They were rangers who spent years outside; they had seen the "unclean things" with their own eyes and knew where the real threat lay.
The traditionalist crossed his arms, unmoved.
Most of the stewards and builders also chose silence. Staying within Castle Black year-round, their hatred for wildlings far outweighed their fear of an unknown enemy.
Ygritte was brought in.
She had changed into clean black leathers, her long fiery hair simply tied back. Her grey eyes observed everything with curiosity and vigilance.
She heard their conversation.
She hadn't expected these "crows" to be facing the same enemy.
"Fourteen in favor. Thirty-six opposed."
Mormont announced the result.
The opposition was still the overwhelming majority.
Lynn wasn't surprised in the slightest.
He knew all too well why most reformers in history met with tragic ends. He hadn't expected this to go smoothly.
Lynn walked slowly to the center of the hall, his gaze sweeping over everyone present.
"I know what you are thinking."
"You hate wildlings because they killed your brothers and raided your villages."
"But have you ever thought about why they do it?"
"Because they want to live too!"
"On that side of the Wall, there are no warm hearths, no endless supply of black bread!"
"Only biting wind, and bellies that can never be filled!"
"And those monsters that could crawl out of the snow at any moment!"
"They come south not to invade, but simply to survive!"
"And we stand here, killing them batch after batch, thinking we are guarding the realm, defending our honor!"
"But the true enemy is gathering an army in the Lands of Always Winter!"
"They do not tire, do not fear. They cannot be killed, cannot be exhausted!"
"When that army of the dead breaches the Wall, do you think our measly one thousand men can hold?"
Lynn's words were like sharp knives piercing the hearts of every Night's Watchman present.
The disdain and anger on their faces were gradually replaced by gravity and fear.
"I am not asking for your permission."
Lynn's tone turned cold.
"I am giving you a way to live."
"And giving everyone in the Seven Kingdoms a way to live."
Lynn turned and looked toward the door.
Winter's massive head was poking in from outside, its golden vertical pupils staring coldly at the people in the room.
"I could ride it, fly over the Wall, and burn every wildling tribe to ash with dragonfire."
"I could also fly over and tell Mance Rayder that I am willing to give him and his people a warm home."
"As long as they are willing to take up arms and stand with us against our common enemy."
"The choice is yours."
"To continue holding onto that pitiful hatred and wait here to die."
"Or to put aside prejudice and, together with the wildlings, fight for a sliver of hope for yourselves and for all of Westeros?"
The entire hall was silent.
Lynn already held high prestige here; everyone listened to every word he said.
Ygritte stared blankly at the man.
His figure was already tall. Now, he seemed like an insurmountable mountain.
Every word he spoke carried undeniable power.
He said he would give her people a warm home.
He said the dead were the common enemy.
This Southerner... he...
Ygritte's heart beat wildly and traitorously.
"Vote again!"
Lord Commander Mormont's voice broke the deathly silence.
This time.
Benjen raised his hand.
Those few rangers raised their hands without hesitation.
Then, a few builders, a few stewards...
More and more people raised their hands.
But a large number of Night's Watchmen still didn't know what to choose.
Silent ambivalence was also opposition.
Finally, Mormont's gaze fell on the last person.
The young man who had remained silent from start to finish.
Jon Snow.
Everyone's eyes focused on him.
The count was twenty-five to twenty-five. A tie.
"Jon."
Lord Commander Mormont's voice held a trace of fatigue.
"What is your choice?"