On the city wall, it was terrifyingly silent.
Every Night's Watchman stared intently at the uninvited guests below the wall.
Even in the cold wind, their palms, gripping their weapons, were drenched in sweat.
What the hell is going on?
The monsters, rumored to bring the Long Night and death, are now acting like humans, coming as messengers?
This was even more frightening than if they had directly charged to attack the city.
The unknown is the most terrifying.
"Lord..."
A Ranger spoke, trembling.
"What... what exactly do they want to do?"
Jeor did not answer; his old eyes were filled with solemnity and confusion.
He had been a Night's Watchman his entire life.
He had seen Wildlings, seen Giants, and even seen Wights.
But the scene before him had completely exceeded his understanding.
"Open the gate."
A young yet resolute voice broke the frozen air.
Everyone turned sharply to look at the speaker.
Jon Snow.
He had walked over to the winch at some point, his hand grasping the cold iron chain.
"Jon! Are you crazy?"
A black-clad brother cried out in alarm.
"You want to let them in?"
"No,"
Jon shook his head, his gaze sweeping past everyone to meet Jeor Mormont's eyes directly.
"I'm going to get the letter."
"No!"
"It's a trap!"
"Snow, you're going to your death!"
Voices of opposition rose one after another.
In their eyes, this was undoubtedly a plot by the Others.
They were using a letter as bait, hoping to lure them into opening the gate or tricking some unlucky soul into going out to die.
Jon ignored the clamor.
He just looked at Jeor Mormont.
He knew that the only person who could truly make a decision here was this old man.
Jeor's gaze lingered on Jon's young yet stubborn face for a long time.
He saw those eyes belonging to House Stark.
There was no fear in them, only a nearly obstinate sense of responsibility.
"They haven't shown hostility."
Jeor spoke slowly, quieting all the commotion.
He pointed at the Others below the wall.
"Now that magic is Failure, if they wanted to rush in and kill, and we are not Lynn, few here would survive them."
"That letter is for Lynn."
"Lynn is our only hope now, and his affairs are our affairs."
Jeor looked deeply at Jon.
"Take Ghost and be careful."
This was his approval.
"Lord Mormont!"
"This is too risky!"
"Let him go."
A deep voice sounded, stopping those who still wanted to persuade.
first ranger, Benjen Stark.
He walked to Jon's side and clapped him heavily on the shoulder.
"People of House Stark never fear danger."
Benjen's eyes were filled with both approval and concern.
"Go, we'll cover you from the wall."
Jon nodded heavily.
The massive Direwolf, Ghost, emerged from the shadows and silently walked beside him.
"Creak—"
The heavy city gate was pulled open just enough for one person and one wolf to pass through.
The biting cold wind instantly poured in.
Jon didn't hesitate for a moment, gripping the Dragon Crystal Longsword in his hand, and stepped into the snowstorm.
The city gate slowly closed behind him.
The entire world seemed to be left with only him and Ghost, and those figures ahead radiating the aura of death.
A hundred meters away.
Jon could feel countless anxious gazes from the city wall focused on him, and even more, he could feel the emotionless stares from the monsters ahead.
Those eyes burning with blue flames held no emotion, just silently watched him.
Ghost let out a low growl of threat from his throat, his white fur bristling, guarding Jon closely.
It wasn't that Jon hadn't dealt with these dead things before.
But in this created atmosphere, he still felt somewhat nervous.
Finally, Jon walked up to the leading Other.
He stopped, meeting its blue eyes.
The Other didn't move, but slowly handed over the weirwood branch and the ice crystal scroll it held.
Its movements were natural, without any hint of threat.
Jon's heart pounded wildly.
He reached out and cautiously touched the two items with his sword sheath.
After confirming there was no danger, he quickly took them.
The moment he took the items, the Others and Wights, as if their mission was complete, turned and silently, step by step, walked back into the depths of the snowstorm.
Until they finally disappeared.
They came mysteriously and left decisively.
Jon stood there, looking at the items in his hand, feeling as if he had experienced an absurd dream.
It wasn't until the city gate opened again, and Benjen and several Rangers rushed out to pull him back, that he suddenly came to his senses... Lord Commander's Tower.
The fire in the fireplace burned brightly, but it couldn't dispel the chill in the room.
The weirwood branch and the ice crystal scroll were placed in the center of the table.
The branch was still oozing crimson sap, emitting a strange fragrance.
Clearly, this was also a blessed item from the Old Gods, and although Maester Aemon was dead, they didn't know its exact name, but it looked far more potent than what they had found.
It was very likely obtained from the northernmost part of the world, a region no living person had ever set foot in.
And the ice crystal, even in the warm room, showed no signs of melting; instead, it continued to emit cold air.
Jeor Mormont, Benjen Stark, and several high-ranking Nights Watch officers gathered around the table, their expressions grim.
"What the hell is this thing?"
A Steward looked at the scroll, his face full of apprehension.
"It's a letter from the Night King."
Jeor's voice was absolutely certain.
"We're going to send it to Lynn?"
Benjen frowned.
"Jon, you have to go."
Everyone's gaze fell on Jon.
Jon nodded, understanding it was his duty.
"But..."
A newly arrived Maester from The Citadel spoke hesitantly.
"Jon is a Night's Watchman, his vows..."
"I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns... This night and all the nights to come."
Everyone present had recited this vow.
It meant a complete severance from everything in the past.
Heading south to deliver a letter and intervening in the war in the southern kingdoms was undoubtedly a violation of the vow.
"Bullshit vows!"
Jeor Mormont slammed his hand on the table.
His pet raven squawked in fright.
"What time is it now?!"
Anger, rarely seen, appeared on the old man's wrinkled face.
But even though Jeor Mormont was no longer Lord Commander, the others still obediently lowered their heads and listened to his lecture.
"The Wall is about to collapse!"
"What will we use to protect the realm?"
"With our thousand or so men?!"
He pointed at the vast snowfield outside the window.
"Where will our food come from? Our winter clothes? Our weapons?"
"Before, we relied on Winterfell, on the charity of southern nobles!"
"And now? Now we all have to rely on Lynn!"
"Rely on his Dragonstone!"
"Rely on the merchant ships he brings from Essos!"
Jeor's gaze swept over everyone present.
"If Lynn loses, and Lysa Arryn and House Frey control The Riverlands, cutting off the North's supply lines, all of us here will starve and freeze to death!"
"At that time, will you go and recite your damned vows to the Others?!"
"And then the Others will bring delicious roasted venison to your mouths, serving you food and drink?"
His words left everyone speechless.
This was the most realistic and cruelest question.
The honor of the Nights Watch couldn't fill their stomachs.
"Helping Lynn is helping ourselves!"
Jeor's tone softened slightly, but remained firm.
"Vows are dead, people are alive."
He looked at Jon, his eyes sharpening.
"Jon, your journey south is not for Stark, nor for seeking glory."
"You are for the Wall, for the continued existence of the Nights Watch!"
"This is not breaking your vows; this is precisely fulfilling your highest duty as the'Shield that guards the realms of men'!"
The old man's rhetoric, though subtly shifting the concept, was so powerful that Jon's last shred of doubt vanished.
Yes, guarding the realm.
If everyone at Castle Black died, who would guard it? What would be the point?
"I understand, Lord Mormont."
Jon nodded solemnly.
"Very good."
A hint of relief appeared on Jeor's face.
"However, everything requires method."
He lowered his voice, like a cunning old fox providing guidance.
"Along the way, do not reveal your identity as a Night's Watchman."
"Just say you are a messenger sent by Winterfell, or even better, say you are an envoy sent by this old man to congratulate Lord Lynn on his marriage."
"As long as no one knows you are a Night's Watchman, it doesn't count as breaking your vows, understand?"
Jon was stunned.
He looked at the Lord Commander, who was earnestly teaching him how to bend the rules, and for a moment, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
So... it could be played this way?
"I'll go with you."
Benjen Stark, who had been silent, suddenly spoke.
"Benjen?"
Jeor was somewhat surprised.
"Ned is my only kin, Robb and Jon are my nephews."
Benjen's voice was deep and strong.
"My family is going to war; how can I stay here comfortably?"
He looked at Jeor, a hint of pleading in his eyes.
"Just let me... escort Jon this one time."
Jeor Mormont looked at him.
After a long moment, he let out a deep sigh.
He knew that Stark blood was ultimately hot.
Even in this icy world, it had not cooled.
"Alright."
Jeor nodded.
"One more person means one more help."
"Depart immediately."
"Deliver the blessed items and the letter safely into Lynn's hands."
...Soon, two swift horses quietly left Castle Black.
They were not wearing the black cloaks of the Nights Watch but had changed into ordinary leather armor and cloaks.
Like two most ordinary travelers from the North.
Jon carried the ice crystal scroll, radiating cold, in his arms, feeling as heavy as a thousand pounds.
He looked back at the dilapidated ice and Snow Wall, his heart filled with mixed emotions.
He was about to embark on an unknown journey.
He was going to find the man who had become his brother-in-law and the focus of the entire North.
He was going to deliver a letter from the master of the Long Night.
No one knew what was written in that letter.
And no one knew what fate awaited this world when Lynn opened that letter.
The snowstorm seemed to intensify.
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