After we more or less agreed I wasn't an enemy unless attacked, I kept my end of the deal and enchanted everything that could pass for a weapon. I also upgraded most of their gear, tools, dwellings, clothes, you name it. Even with my current command of magic, it took a solid week of nonstop work to finish, and I still didn't feel any magical fatigue. Makes me wonder if I've got unlimited mana… or just an absurd amount of it.
In return for giving his people ways to survive, Mance honored his side and managed to get me around twenty apples, spoils from a Crows patrol they ambushed. Mance wasn't happy about it; to him, twenty apples for everything I'd done for his people was unfair to me. I told him it was more than enough, but he still insisted that if I needed anything, I just had to ask, and he'd do what he could.
I'm really starting to like these folks. No politics, no mind games. They know life's too short for that kind of crap. I like that. I respect it.
Oh, and their sense of hospitality, especially from the women.
Sitting on the edge of the cot in a tent Mance gave me, my hand rests on the head of a Free Folk woman whose name I don't even know, while she bobs up and down, mouth working my cock like it's a lollipop, to my great satisfaction.
One thing I've had the pleasure of learning up here, in the far North, is they respect strength. When a guy hunts things even the strongest men run from, those same men give you respect… and the women get wet.
Suffice it to say, during the months I've spent in this frozen hell, I've had no trouble finding a woman to keep me warm. Village chiefs where I stop either send women to thank me for improving their homes and cutting down the wights, or to avoid offending the Wight Hunter, which hasn't exactly hurt my libido, which seems to have spiked since I became a spellcaster. (Don't worry, this is not a harem story, Carmine will simply have several sexual partners before finding his love interest, and he'll remain faithful to her, and she will be faithful to him; we are children of the God-Emperor, we don't engage in the heresy that is NTR or harems or worse…loli.)
Some might call me an asshole taking advantage of these poor people, and in a way, they'd be right. Still, I've always made sure, first, the women are of age—by this world's standards, anyway—and second, thanks to my reinforcement spell, which seems to have made me a bit bigger and gives me superhuman stamina, none of them has left unhappy. So, hey, win-win for everyone.
Back to the present: feeling release close in, I guide her with my hand to speed up. She does eagerly, so it only takes a couple more minutes before my cum splashes across her face. Fifth time, and… honestly, I've lost track of how long I've been screwing her. Judging by her state, I'd say hours. The poor thing can barely stand, but the smile on her face tells me she enjoyed it as much as I did and when she sees my soldier still standing at attention, she seems to find a second wind to keep going.
Well, who am I to say no to that.
—
Two hours later, my playmate finally hit her limit. I could've kept going for hours, but I decided to spare the poor woman. (I can always find someone else later.)
Instead, I went with something more productive.
I've finally got the ingredients for my first potion. Staring at the empty cauldron, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hyped to brew it.
"Alright, how does this work exactly?" I pull out my grimoire; it flips itself open to the potion's page. The instructions are… way simpler than I expected.
Place the apple in the cauldron with the intention of making the potion.
Stir slowly until the mixture shifts from red to blue.
Okay, let's try it. An apple in my left hand, and a big wooden spoon—came with the cauldron—hovering in the air under my telekinesis.
Keeping the intent of brewing the Potion in mind, I drop the apple into the cauldron. It doesn't even hit the bottom before it bursts into thousands of tiny red motes, and a heartbeat later the cauldron fills to the brim with a glowing red liquid that smells like apples.
With a thought, the spoon starts to stir gently while I refocus on the grimoire to read more about the brew.
Instantly satisfies the drinker's needs: sleep, hunger, hygiene, bladder, entertainment and social, temperature, for several days.
Also heals all physical injuries.
Wow. That's insanely OP for an Apprentice-tier potion, not that I'm complaining, especially when all it takes is a single apple.
I keep stirring for about ten minutes until the liquid shifts from bright, vivid red to a calm, equally luminous blue. I watch it for a few seconds, then scoop a little with the spoon and taste.
The second the apple-sweet potion hits my tongue, a cool wave runs through me, and in the next heartbeat any trace of hunger, thirst, or sleep just… disappears. I feel great, no, better than great. I feel like I could run for days.
I can say without a doubt that my first potion brew is a flat-out success. I'm honestly pretty damn good at this magic stuff.
A second later, I feel my grimoire… vibrate? Yeah, that's the word. With a thought, I pull it from my inventory; it opens on its own to fresh pages, and my grin somehow gets bigger.
Finally.
Delicioso: A spell that creates any food you want (meat, vegetables, fruit, fish, full dishes, etc.).
Floralorial: A spell that makes any plant matter sound and free of parasites.
Furio: A spell that goads anyone, or anything, into fighting anyone or anything.
Infatuate: A spell that makes anyone fall in love with anyone.
Necrocall: A spell that summons a ghost from its grave, or from a place or object tied to it.
Chillio: A spell that creates and manipulates ice.
I barely finish reading when an idea hits. I hold out my hand, lean on talent and instinct, channel the magic and a second later, with no sound and zero flashy effects, a cookie pops into my palm. A chocolate chip cookie. I devour it; it's not just edible, it's fucking delicious.
Magic is bullshit. Extremely useful bullshit.
I'm about to keep experimenting when someone ducks into the tent. The Free Folk guy who came to speak stops dead when he sees the cauldron and its glowing contents, which makes me smile a little.
"Yeah?"
He snaps out of it and tells me Mance wants to see me, so I head for the King-Beyond-the-Wall's tent. As I walk, the Free Folk I pass step aside and give me respectful nods, some with a "Well met, hunter," which, given what I've done makes sense, even if it grates a bit, I'll admit.
This smells like an attempt to make me feel like one of them, settle me in, hand me responsibilities. Hard pass. I like these people (especially the women), but I'm going to check where they are on the White Walker hunt and if they've got nothing, I'm heading south, over the Wall, to see what Westeros has for me.
I reach Mance's tent and slip inside to find him mid-conversation with one of the camp's skinchangers, Orell, I think. Judging by their faces, bad news is incoming.
"Good day, gentlemen," I say, casual, shifting my attention to Mance. "You wanted to see me?"
He hesitates a few seconds before speaking.
"We swept a wide stretch, no sign of wights or White Walkers." Huh. Looks like my trip to the Wall is about to happen. "Nothing?" Always good to double-check.
This time it's not Mance, but Orell.
"No sign. No tracks, no wights, no villages hit, save for raids by other clans."
"Then they're hiding well. Damn it." I'll admit, not being able to field-test my magic on a White Walker annoys me. Still, it's not a big deal. It's not like they can go far. I'll get my hands on them sooner or later, patience. And with the gear I've boosted, Mance and his people shouldn't struggle too much with the Big Smurf and his village. I can leave in peace and keep leveling my magic.
"Well, I guess I'll deal with them when they decide they've had enough of life, well, unlife." I chuckle at my own dumb joke, then focus on Mance. "Alright, Mance, short but sweet. Good meeting you. I'm sure we'll cross paths again."
To my surprise, Mance just nods and says his farewells without trying to talk me into staying. He probably knows it'd be a waste of breath.
With nothing else to add, I step out to grab my cauldron and head for the Wall. I could do the whole heartfelt goodbye routine… but I don't give enough of a damn, so yeah, I'm just going to bounce out of here.
Back at my tent, I pause in front of the cauldron full of red liquid and wonder how I'm hauling both the pot and its contents.
Will shoving it into my inventory be enough?
Not many other options. I could ask Mance, but I doubt he's sitting on a few hundred empty bottles.
Anyway, I lay a hand on the cauldron and, with a thought, the pot vanishes. Its contents—surprise and delight—have filled a hundred little vials from… who knows where.
Before I do anything else, another idea hits. I pop the cauldron back out, conjure an apple with Delicioso, drop it in; it disintegrates, and a few minutes later I've got another hundred potion vials.
Even though I just learned I can conjure ingredients, that only means the apples I asked Mance for were kind of a wasted request, well, not really, since they let me unlock new spells. If I'd known, I'd have asked for one apple and… something else.
No use crying over it. Focus on the upside: one of these spells basically makes me a walking cornucopia, or a god-tier gardener. …I might stick around a bit longer.
—
Okay, this time I'm actually going.
It's been five months now, even though I told Mance I was heading for the Wall, then I went and flooded his camp with an indecent amount of food for him and his people.
I've been able to practice my spells these five months, well, all of them except Floralorial, because it doesn't create plants, it just tends them magically. And there's basically no vegetation out here. So for that one, I'll need to head south of the Wall, where nature actually exists.
Everything else was pretty straightforward, even if some of the Free Folk weren't exactly thrilled about suddenly catching feelings or picking fights at random. That blew over fast thanks to the gifts I kept handing out: a ridiculous amount of food, and the chance to speak with their dead through ghosts.
In the end, after months of drilling my magic, I know I've got to go south of the Wall to polish Floralorial, and maybe find potion ingredients I can't just conjure.
Satisfied with my progress, I grab what I need for the road and step out of the tent—for real this time—to head toward… yeah, no clue which way the bloody Wall is.
I stop the first Free Folk I see; he's more than happy to point me in the right general direction.
Now that I know where to go, I set off without delay. Like I said, no need for goodbyes, I don't care that much. They've got enchanted weapons, purely so I can roam the world and level my magic in peace.
Wearing the same clothes I had when I first showed up, my body reinforcement means I could walk stark naked if I wanted, I stroll south.
After about an hour, I clear the outer edge of the camp—way bigger than I thought—and finally it's nothing but empty snow and sky. I amp my reinforcement for speed and, in a snap, I launch forward, kicking up a little explosion of snow as I sprint for the Wall.