Chapter 179: Weeper - I
Beyond the Wall, True North
POV of Weeper
'How did everything go so wrong?' Weeper wondered to himself as he sat alone in his tent and thought over his latest defeat.
He knew that he needed to go out and raise the morale of his men or else some other cunt would do that for him. And then that cunt would kill him and take his position.
He couldn't allow that to happen.
But right now, he didn't want to leave his tent. He didn't want to go out and see what had become of the large force he had spent years gathering.
It was cut in half. In a single battle. Shameful was what it was.
He felt ashamed of his defeat.
He had lost to Southern men in the cold of the True North. And even when his own men outnumbered those cunts more than 2 to 1.
It had all happened when one of his warg reported the presence of an army that didn't wear any clothes made by the Free Folk.
He had sent more of his wargs to investigate this matter properly, and they told him that it was a Southern army, surprise, surprise.
Now, he had no idea what a Southern army was doing so far in the True North.
The last time he had heard of such a thing happening, some Southern Lord had slipped past all of them, had captured a few wargs like Varamyr Fiveskins, and had taken the giants down south with him.
Oh, how he lamented not capturing that arrogant Southern Lord who dared to intrude on their territory.
Killing that man would have been so sweet. He would have fed that man's entrails to the heart trees.
The old gods would have definitely blessed him then.
Such a thing would have never come to pass. He knew that. He had missed his opportunity, and that was that.
But the old gods had given him a chance once again. This was definitely a sign from the old gods.
They wanted him to purge those bastards from these pure lands. He could understand them, yes, he could. Better than most.
He could hear the whisper of the Old Gods in the wind, and they were telling him to kill those arrogant Southern cunts and feed their entrails to the Heart Trees.
So he had taken his great war party of 13,000 people and had chased after the Southern army.
If he could kill those men, then he would have enough steel to arm a large number of people in his army. Not only that, but he could also take their armor and give it to his men.
Yes, yes, what else could this be other than a gift from the old gods? All he had to do was kill some fat and soft Southern men, and all the loot would be his.
Then he would use this new loot to gather all the tribes scattered throughout the True North into one great War Party, like what that fool Mance Rayder was trying to do.
Then he would take those men and attack the wall.
With all the men and women of the True North under his command, he would have definitely won.
Or so he thought when he sent his wargs to scout the enemy. That's when things started to take a turn for the worse.
His wargs stopped returning.
Oh, their bodies were still present, but the animals or birds they warged had died, and their spirit died with them.
Some of the wargs managed to recover from the experience as their spirit somehow managed to return to their bodies before their warged animals died, but they were greatly weakened and of no use to him.
By the end of the third day since he started the chase, all of his wargs were either dead or out of commission.
From the few interactions with the wargs that managed to return, he learned that the Southern army had wargs of their own.
He instantly knew who those wargs were.
They were the ones who had left the True North for greener pastures down in the South. The ones that the sorcerer who could look in his soul and read his heart had taken with him. The ones that betrayed the Free Folks and bent their knee to that foreign bastard.
He remembered how his blood had boiled at that revelation, how he had promised himself to give the wargs a slow and painful death once he got his hands on them.
And then things turned even worse when their water supplies became contaminated and their food was destroyed.
Losing his wargs had blinded him to the actions of the wargs from the opposite army.
In the end, he had to resort to telling his people to kill any animals or birds that were sighted near the camp.
That had put a stop to the attacks on his resources, but he was still unaware of the enemy's position, so he sent out his men to scout and found that the enemy army was only one and a half days away from him.
The Southerners were clearly not used to walking in the snow, which was probably why they were marching at such a slow speed.
So, he used that to his advantage.
He forced his people to march quickly, which allowed him to reach the Southern army by the end of the second day, when he finally found that they had retreated to the top of a mountain like the cowards they were. Probably hoping that he would not attack them.
Trying to fight an uphill battle was a bad proposition, but he had been arrogant in his strength and the strength of his men back then.
So, he had told his men to circle the mountain from all sides in case the Southern cunts tried to run and then ordered them to charge forward.
That was a colossal mistake, one that he would later lament.
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Next Chapters' Name:
Ch.180: Weeper - II
Ch.181: Weeper - III