When Aldric returned to Hardin's Tower and told Kevin he was going ranging with First Ranger Benjen in three days, Kevin complained, "Teacher, why leave me behind again? You didn't take me in White Harbor, and you came back with nine cuts, nearly dying on the road. Did you forget?"
Aldric sighed helplessly. "Of course I remember. But this time, it's not that I don't want to take you; Benjen specifically forbade it. Can I refuse him?"
Kevin stood up to leave. "I'll go talk to him."
Aldric grabbed his collar. "Forget it, Kevin. He won't even take his own nephew; would he take you?"
Kevin frowned, dissatisfied. "I'm different from that kid. I've killed pirates, taken heads. I'm a real warrior in every sense. Jon? He probably hasn't even killed a chicken."
Aldric found this odd. "What, you don't get along? I didn't see you arguing on the road."
"Jon..." Kevin thought, choosing his words. "He's not a bad person, heart isn't bad. But he has this arrogance that's uncomfortable."
Aldric spread his hands. "After all, he's a Lord's son; it would be abnormal not to have some arrogance. As long as he's not bad."
"Arrogance is like a gem just dug from the earth. Without polishing, it hurts others and oneself."
"But once polished round and clear, it reflects brilliant light."
"First Ranger Benjen might go to many places this time; I'll be gone for days. If you have nothing to do, hang out with Jon more. Experience the martial arts of Northern nobles."
Though unwilling, since it was the decision of the First Ranger and his teacher, Kevin had to obey. "Alright, Teacher. I won't go. I'll pack your luggage."
"Go ahead. Remember to ask the cook for extra smoked meat jerky. I love it; paying extra is fine."
Before heading beyond the Wall, Aldric had three free days.
Too short for long-term plans, just enough for trivial matters like reading.
But he had finished Tyrion's borrowed books on the road.
So the next morning, he egged Tyrion on to visit Castle Black's library, hoping to find something amazing in the old piles.
The library was managed by Maester Aemon, said to be a centenarian. Even on Earth, such an age was rare.
Aldric met Maester Aemon for the first time—a bald, wrinkled, shrunken, blind old man.
Hard to imagine how such an elder survived in this place cold enough to freeze balls in half.
Out of respect, Tyrion and Aldric visited the Maester's quarters to ask permission, but were politely refused.
According to Maester Aemon, the library mostly held old records and accounts, nothing worth seeing. As guests, it wasn't convenient for them to wander in and out.
Of course, if they were interested, the old man could find a few interesting books for them to take back.
Seeing the old man struggle to stand up with his assistant's help, trembling to fetch books, Tyrion and Aldric hastily excused themselves and left.
Leaving the room, Aldric rubbed his chin. "So, how do we kill these two days?"
Tyrion glanced at him coldly. "Two days for you, two weeks for me! Hmm, find some fun. How about Mole's Town?"
Aldric refused decisively. "No."
Tyrion stayed in the King's Tower, reserved for noble guests.
After separating, Aldric reflected: Should I grind some reputation with the "Night's Watch" faction first?
He arrived yesterday and only knew Benjen, Bass, and Yoren.
As a guest's guard—not even a guest—doing or seeing anything wasn't easy.
Since the library was a no-go, Aldric decided to grind "daily quests" for three days to get familiar with the black brothers.
So later, he wouldn't face the awkward "Who are you?" when asking for help.
He wandered Castle Black, helping anyone working.
Seeing a smith, he pumped the bellows. Seeing cooks, he carried supplies. Seeing stable hands, he carried water. Seeing sparrings, he joined in.
Though some refused him as a hindrance, most accepted his help.
After all, Aldric was strong, quick, and free. Why not?
Strangely, Aldric blended perfectly into the Night's Watch rhythm. Some confused souls even thought he was a new recruit, kindly reminding him to wear black when leaving his room.
On the afternoon of the third day, leaving smith Donal Noye, Aldric saw an old veteran loading buckets of fingernail-sized gravel into an iron cage elevator at the Wall's base.
His eyes lit up. Chance to see the top!
Aldric stepped up, grabbed a bucket, put it in the cage, and organized the others.
"Veteran, is this right?"
The veteran looked at Aldric's eyes and asked, "You're the Lannister dwarf's guard? The one helping everywhere?"
Aldric nodded. "Am I that famous?"
The veteran snorted. "A fool from the South working for free, yet smart enough to refuse the black? Of course you're famous."
"Yeah. But this fool wants to help you work and see the top of the Wall. What do you think?"
"What's there to see?" The veteran muttered. "Just ice and snow... and biting wind... But since you want to see, come on. I won't be polite. Remember, don't call me Veteran. Call me Dave."
"Okay, Dave. Thanks."
Dave adjusted the buckets, closed the cage door, pulled a rope, and the cage rose.
He led Aldric to the wooden switchback stairs pinned to the Wall.
Anyone who's climbed 60-70 floors knows it's not easy.
But the veteran had his way.
Every few flights, Dave rested. Aldric sat on the steps with him.
Though slow, Aldric didn't mind.
Each level offered a different view.
Looking south from the Wall's inner side: to the right, the towering Northern mountains; to the left, endless plains. The afternoon sun on the snow-covered land was magnificent.
Castle Black lay beneath his feet, etched in the yellow sunlight.
From high above, he realized how rigid and hollow the windowless keeps, collapsed walls, and gravel courtyards were.
Far away, he saw the dilapidated houses of Mole's Town on the Kingsroad, half a league south. And the cold streams pouring from the mountains, cutting through the plains, shimmering gold like scattered dragons.
Aside from that, the world was an endless desolation of wind-battered hills, jagged rocks, and snowy fields.
After an hour's arduous climb, they reached the top. A sudden gust made Aldric shiver.
"There, the winch. Only supplies come up the crane; people must walk."
Dave chatted with the brother manning the winch, then picked up two buckets of gravel and walked the other way. "Kid, grab two buckets and follow."
The top of the Wall was wider than the Kingsroad. The ice and stone, hammered by cold wind, were hard as iron.
The brothers paved the path with gravel to prevent slipping, but traffic wore it smooth, and frost swallowed the grit.
When smooth again, it needed re-paving. That was Dave's job today.
Aldric carried the gravel, following Dave to a slick patch.
Dave kicked over a bucket, spread the gravel, grabbed a broom fixed to the wall, and spread it evenly.
"Do it like this. I'm going to warm up with the brothers. I'll call you when it's time to go."
Dave left.
Aldric took the broom, spending over an hour spreading the rest evenly.
Job done, Dave was still resting in the hut. Aldric finally had time to lean on the parapet and look north.
North of the Wall was an endless coniferous forest, stretching to the highlands and snowfields in the northwest.
Home of the Free Folk.
South of the Wall, they were called Wildlings.
They called themselves Free Folk to distinguish from "Kneelers" south of the Wall.
They believed the gods made the world for all to share, but kings came with crowns and steel swords, stole everything, and claimed it theirs.
They thought Kneelers lacked freedom. Southerners thought Wildlings were lawless, uncivilized thieves, rapists, and murderers.
Free Folk were also descendants of the First Men.
The Wall separated them from Westeros, making them orphans of the continent.
They kept their freedom, composed of many tribes and clans, spread across hundreds of villages, kneeling to no king, choosing their own leaders.
Each village had unique customs and was constantly at war with others.
Aldric didn't know if they were abandoned by the King in the North or descendants of escaped criminals.
Maybe both.
Tomorrow... tomorrow he could go over... he craved the truth.
But now... Aldric just wanted to sit somewhere not freezing his butt and accumulate mana.
The moment he reached the top, he found his mana regeneration speed skyrocketed compared to the ground.
If ground recovery was like dripping water, this was like a drainpipe after a storm, gushing endlessly.
In Aldric's perception, the Wall was a massive mana-gathering array, constantly drawing mana from the air into the ice.
Under constant mana, the ice never melted. With the brothers' work, gravel and ice piled higher.
Finally, after 8,000 years, this magnificent Wall was built.
Just the leakage from this array filled two-thirds of Aldric's mana bar. He marveled at this power. Only an Ice Mage transmigrator could analyze it.
Though without proof, Aldric believed the Wall had a powerful defense mechanism banning White Walkers.
Otherwise, unless they were fools, they wouldn't allow this structure to stand for 8,000 years.
If Aldric were the Night King, he'd gnaw it down with his teeth.
The reason they didn't was they couldn't.
So as long as the Wall stood, the North was safe from White Walkers.
With White Walkers ruled out, the biggest crisis was a Wildling invasion.
Fishing and hunting tribes from cold lands conquering farming nations in fertile lands happened often in Earth's history.
Each time, civilization regressed centuries.
But even if Free Folk overthrew the current rule, was it an apocalypse?
After all, Wildlings were human. So what if they conquered the North or even Dorne?
Humans would still rule.
Aldric couldn't figure it out.
Doesn't matter. See for yourself, get the answer.
As the sun slanted west, stretching shadows behind him, Dave walked out.
"Done. Does this look okay?"
Dave glanced down, rubbed the ground with his boot, and nodded. "Fine. Frost will fill it soon anyway."
The next morning, just as the sun rose, Aldric had his horse ready in the courtyard, waiting for Benjen.
Soon, First Ranger Benjen brought six brothers to him. "Kept you waiting... Still sure you want to come?"
Aldric patted "Lightning's" neck. "Of course."
"Then follow us."