The Onion Knight, Davos, moved quickly through the corridors with the message he had just received from the rookery. His expression was grim—anyone who saw his face would know the letter in his hand carried bad news, at least for Stannis.
Davos had originally intended to stay by Shireen's side, to care for her until she came of age. But back at Summerhall, when he saw Lynd summon the lords of the Stormlands to swear loyalty to Shireen and publicly proclaim her as the Lady of Storm's End, he realized there was little reason for him to remain.
Summerhall could provide Shireen with better tutors, a stronger education, and far more secure protection. In that environment, Davos was no more than a burden. So he asked Lynd for permission to travel to the Wall and serve under Stannis.
It just so happened that Lynd had a shipment of dragonglass weapons and other supplies headed north, and Davos traveled with the convoy.
However, by the time they arrived, all roles at the Wall had already been assigned. Stannis couldn't simply create a position for Davos, so he placed him at the rookery, assigning him to manage the receiving and dispatching of correspondence.
When Davos reached Stannis's office, the room was already filled. The captains of the Night's Watch were present, as were the leaders of the newly recruited wildling forces: Grel of the Treefolk tribe, Beric Dondarrion of the Light's Crusade, Serellia of the Sisters of Redemption, and Riel of the Silent Brothers.
Also in attendance were Chief Steward Samwell Tarly, Deputy Steward Jon Snow, the Red Priestess Melisandre, Septon Greyd, Maester Aemon, and other key advisors.
The office was packed wall-to-wall. If Stannis hadn't doubled the size of the room after taking command, there would've been no way to fit everyone inside—many would've been left standing in the hall.
Davos didn't immediately hand the letter to Stannis. Instead, he stood by the door, waiting for the current discussion to conclude.
"This intelligence was delivered at great risk by a sentry from the Silent Brothers," Stannis said, glancing at Davos before addressing the room. "That's why I've gathered you all here. Time is running out. We need to resolve the issue of the wildlings migrating south within a month. I've decided—no more negotiations. We launch a full-scale offensive. The wildling tribes beyond the Wall must either submit or be destroyed."
Grel, leader of the Treefolk, stepped forward at once. "Lord Commander, please give us a little more time. We're confident we can convince more tribes to come south."
The Treefolk were among the first wildling tribes to submit to the Night's Watch. They had sworn allegiance during the time of Old Bear Mormont. But back then, there had been controversy within the Watch over whether wildlings should be allowed south of the Wall, so the Treefolk were settled nearby, tasked with helping to win over other tribes.
Their willingness to submit so readily had everything to do with Lynd. The power he had displayed back then had already overwhelmed the entire Treefolk tribe. Over the years, on Lynd's orders, Dacey had provided the tribe with consistent aid and resources, allowing them to grow from a dying clan into one of the most powerful wildling factions beyond the Wall.
Grel had never forgotten Lynd's kindness. So when Old Bear began his campaign to recruit wildlings, Grel risked the ire of his people and brought his tribe into the fold, aiding the Night's Watch in recruiting other Treefolk branches as well.
In the years that followed, nearly one-third of the wildling tribes driven south—by White Walkers and wights—into the Haunted Forest and the Frostfangs had been persuaded by Grel. When Stannis assumed command, he formally organized these wildlings into their own unit, appointing Grel as commander. The wildlings would now govern themselves.
A ranger captain scoffed, "Grel, if I recall correctly, you said the exact same thing a month ago. And in that time, only two wildling tribes have come south—both barely a hundred people. Mance Rayder has already united the rest and is building an army to assault the Wall. There's no chance of more tribes moving south now."
"Why haven't they come south? Isn't it because of your Seventh Cavalry's Crows?" Grel turned on the captain with fury in his eyes. "You disobeyed orders and attacked tribes that were seeking refuge. Now they all think coming south is a trap. If it weren't for that—"
"Enough!" Stannis cut him off sharply. "Those Seventh Cavalry rangers who broke orders have already been punished—and died in the battles that followed. That matter is closed."
He then turned to the ranger who had spoken. "If you're unhappy with how I handled it, you can bring it to me directly. But don't cause trouble in this meeting. And another thing—you used the wrong term just now. Lynd Tarran has clearly ordered that we refer to the tribes beyond the Wall as Free Folk. I'll let it go this time as a habit, but if you do it again, you'll be flogged according to the law. Understood?"
"Yes, Lord Commander," the Seventh Cavalry captain said quickly, not daring to argue.
The first matter Stannis had addressed after becoming Lord Commander was the violation by the Seventh Cavalry—attacking Free Folk tribes who had come south to submit. At the time, Samwell Tarly had been serving as interim commander. While Sam was capable in administration, he lacked authority. At first, he had managed to keep dissent at bay with Lynd's name, but that influence waned over time, and eventually, many rangers stationed beyond the Wall began breaking rules.
Stannis had a simple policy for rangers who committed serious offenses: send them to the front lines until death. Minor offenses earned floggings. Through strict but fair judgments, he quickly earned respect and took firm control of his command.
After reprimanding the captain, Stannis turned back to Grel.
"Commander Grel, we no longer have time for negotiation. You've seen the intelligence. The White Walkers are leading an army of wights—they're closing in on the Frostfangs and will soon cross into the Haunted Forest. We have to resolve the Free Folk situation before they arrive. Do you understand?"
Grel's face darkened, but he said nothing.
Then Serelia stood up. "Lord Commander, the Sisters of Redemption and the Silent Brothers will not take part in military operations against the Free Folk. But we can intercept the White Walkers. We can't stop them entirely, but we can delay their advance."
Beric Dondarrion rose as well. "The Holy Order of the Light King can intercept them too."
When Stannis had taken command at the Wall, the Red Temple of Volantis had joined with the other Free Cities' Red Temples to form a militant order of the Lord of Light. They had marched to the Wall to fight the White Walkers.
Initially, the army had been under Melisandre's command. But when Beric Dondarrion arrived the previous day, and Melisandre learned—through Thoros—that he had been resurrected multiple times by the Lord of Light, she voluntarily handed command over to him.
Hearing Serelia and Beric's support, Grel looked at them with clear gratitude.
Stannis paused in thought, then asked Serelia, "How long can you hold them off?"
"We should be able to buy a month," Serelia replied promptly. "Our Lord has provided us with ample supplies, and we can resupply through Bear Island. As long as we don't encounter the type of White Walkers our Lord warned us about—the ones he called 'Elven Walkers'—we should manage a full month."
Stannis considered it carefully before deciding. "Very well. The final battle will be postponed by one month. But every army must continue preparations. We strike in one month." Then he turned to Grel. "You have one month."
"Yes, Lord Commander," Grel responded immediately, nodding.
Stannis was about to dismiss the meeting when something occurred to him. He looked at Davos.
"Davos, you came rushing in. Is there something urgent?"
"Yes, my lord." Davos stepped forward with a serious expression, placed the letter on the table, and said, "This message came from King's Landing. It's from over twenty days ago."
"Over twenty days?" Stannis frowned as he picked up the letter. "Why so late?"
Davos explained, "Something must've happened to the raven along the way. This was the second letter they sent—King's Landing hadn't received a reply to the first."
Stannis unfolded the letter and scanned the contents. It was short—only a few lines—but what those lines said was anything but simple. As he finished reading, Stannis's face went dark, and he stood frozen in silence.
Everyone in the room could tell something was off with Stannis. Seated beside him, Melisandre looked on with curiosity and confusion. She took the note from his hand, glanced at it, and exclaimed, "Lynd Tarran has been crowned as the new ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, the master of the Iron Throne?"
The moment the words left her mouth, the room fell into stunned silence. No one had expected this.
Back when the news of Joffrey I's assassination reached them over a month ago, there had been much speculation about who would take the throne next. Most had assumed it would be Myrcella Baratheon, backed by the formidable Lynd Tarran. Tommen, after all, had only Tywin—the aging lion—behind him.
But now, the truth before them was completely unexpected. The new king was Lynd Tarran. No one knew how to react.
Grel, born beyond the Wall, looked around at the others in confusion and said, "Isn't this a good thing? Lord Lynd becoming king is good for us. At least now we won't have to worry about supplies. And he's incredibly powerful—shouldn't it be obvious he's the right choice? Honestly, putting a powerless child on the throne is what never made sense to me."
His words snapped most of the room back to reality. People began nodding in agreement, and some even started shouting, "Long live the Chosen One!"
Still, some remained uncertain.
"Would Lord Tywin have allowed this?" someone asked. "Did none of the other kingdom Wardens object? They just let Lord Lynd become king?"
As she handed the letter to the person who had asked, Melisandre replied, "Tywin was murdered by his son, Tyrion. It was Queen Cersei and Prince Tommen who proposed that Lord Lynd—His Majesty—take the Iron Throne. All the other Wardens agreed. Not a single voice of opposition."
"No bloodshed, and yet the dynasty has changed. That's never happened before... it's a miracle," Maester Aemon murmured with deep emotion.
"A miracle, yes—a miracle brought about by the Chosen One!" someone echoed loudly.
"Long live the Tarran Dynasty!" another voice called out, naming the new reign.
But those with sharper senses began to notice that Stannis looked rather grim. Realizing who was still in the room, a few people quickly pulled back their companions who had been shouting "Long live the Tarran Dynasty" and "Long live King Lynd."
Only then did everyone remember—Stannis Baratheon was still seated among them. Lynd's ascension had meant the end of the Baratheon dynasty. And while Stannis may no longer have had any claim to House Baratheon or the Iron Throne, that didn't mean he felt nothing about being cast aside.
Many now felt the Baratheon reign had been tragically short-lived—barely a dozen years from rise to fall, with just two kings, one of whom had ruled for barely a year. It was hard to even call it a dynasty.
"There's no need to linger here any longer," Jon stood up and addressed the room. "Please begin your preparations as we discussed."
Though Jon technically didn't have the standing to dismiss everyone, no one argued. They rose and quietly filed out, leaving only Davos, Melisandre, and a few trusted companions behind.
"Heh... what a joke," Stannis said suddenly, a bitter smile creeping onto his face. "Everyone fought and bled, but in the end, the one who claimed it all was someone who never lifted a sword. What does that make the rest of us? Fools. Dancing clowns before His Majesty."
Everyone in the room could hear the mix of anger and self-deprecation in his voice. He was angry that Lynd Tarran had effortlessly seized what he himself had long dreamed of. And he mocked his own stubbornness—his sacrifices, his battles—all of it amounting to nothing in the end.
Melisandre lowered her head respectfully and said, in a measured tone, "Lord Commander, what's done is done. It cannot be changed. It's better to let it go. Your attention should now turn to what lies beyond the Wall."
Stannis gave a quiet nod. "Yes... you're right. It's done."
Then he turned to Davos and said, "Send a letter of congratulations—immediately. From Stannis Baratheon, Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, and from the Watch as a whole. Offer our congratulations on the establishment of the Tarran Dynasty, and on His Majesty Lynd Tarran's ascension to the throne. Make it an open letter. Send copies to every major stronghold."