Migrating populations was, in itself, a troublesome and extremely energy-consuming task. Even with the "System" providing high-level oversight, the sheer friction of thousands of people moving across a vertical desert of ice required constant management.
Fortunately, Castle Black was built wide enough to accommodate as many as five thousand people at its peak, making it a suitable transit point for the tides of humanity now flowing through the Wall. The Night's Watch had also provided a group of experienced stewards, men who had spent years calculating grain stores and dealing with local villagers.
Eddard sat in the King's Tower, the highest point of the fortress, directing the overall situation. He was a conductor of a very messy symphony, constantly issuing orders to separate tribes, allocate rations, and coordinate with the rangers. Under his direction, the stewards and Karstark soldiers escorted groups of Free Folk women and children to designated villages in the Gift.
There, they would settle in dilapidated houses that hadn't seen smoke in their chimneys for decades. In some areas where geothermal heat seeped through the ground, the stewards even began organizing the planting of cold-resistant crops. Eddard, as a former humanities major, didn't quite understand how crops could grow while snowflakes were falling, but he deferred to the expertise of the locals.
Low fantasy is still fantasy, he mused. If they say the cabbage grows in the frost, I'll let them plant it.
The Free Folk were resilient, but the transition wasn't without blood. A few Night's Watchmen, unable to control their urges around the "savage" women, were caught in the act. Eddard didn't bother with a trial; he had them hanged in the Castle Black courtyard in front of the assembled host. The sight of black-robed men swinging beside the very people they used to hunt finally curbed the harassment.
Jon Snow proved to be an effective partner. While Eddard handled the logistics, Jon managed the field work, overseeing the cremation of the thousands who had died in the fire and the riot. Smoke from the funeral pyres drifted above the Wall like a permanent grey shroud.
One clear afternoon, a heavy column of wagons arrived from the south. It was the supply train from Winterfell, led by the master-at-arms, Ser Rodrik Cassel.
"My Lord Karstark," Ser Rodrik said, bowing respectfully as he entered the solar. "His Majesty Robb Stark instructed me to tell you that the Free Folk situation is his priority, but he hopes you will return to Winterfell as soon as possible. Sansa Stark has returned from the south."
Eddard looked up from his ledgers, a spark of interest in his eyes. "Ah? And where is the King? Did he not wait for his sister?"
"His Majesty has led troops into the Wolfswood to eradicate the last of the Ironborn raiders," Rodrik explained. "Lady Sansa is currently in charge of the castle's affairs."
Eddard clicked his tongue. His fiancée, a girl who, in this timeline, was young but already the acting Lady of Winterfell. He wondered how much the capital had changed her.
Outside the Wall, the sound of axes was a rhythmic, unending pulse.
Eddard rode the snow bear, Avalanche, through the bustling Free Folk camp. The beast stood two and a half meters at the shoulder, her massive paws crunching through the frozen mud. He had named her for her unstoppable charge, and he was already planning to have the blacksmiths at the Twins forge a suit of plate armor for her.
He reached the central white tent, topped with massive moose antlers, and dismounted. Styr's Thenn guards immediately knelt. Their respect for the "Lord of Thunder" was absolute.
Inside the tent, the air was thick with the scent of roasted meat and charcoal. Tormund Giantsbane was busy tearing apart a roasted chicken, licking grease from his fingers.
"Damn bad luck," Tormund mumbled, his mouth full. "This riot shrunk us by a third. Most of the bodies are dug up, but the rest... they're lost to the Ghost Shadow Forest. And the gods are sending more snow to hide 'em."
He turned to Jon Snow, who was seated by the brazier. "Hey, Crow. When is Karstark letting the rest of us through? My people are tired of seeing those blue eyes in the dark."
"Soon," Jon soothed. "We have to settle the families first."
"It needs to be sooner," Styr interjected, his voice like grinding stones. "Last night, the shadows tried to rush the camp again. I saw Slit the Rotten Tooth out there."
Tormund's eyes widened, and he dropped the chicken leg. "Rotten Tooth? He's a cannibal. If he's out there, it means the White Walkers have arrived to pick up the pieces of our mess."
"White Walkers? Others?" Eddard asked, stepping into the light.
Styr stood to kneel but Eddard waved him down. He sat at the table as Tormund began to describe the creature he had once encountered, a two-meter-tall shadow in shifting, crystalline armor that shattered steel with a touch.
"I believe it," Eddard said, tossing a chicken bone into the fire. He looked at Styr. "Styr, Ser Rodrik delivered Reach-made steel yesterday. Fifty sets of plate and mail, gorgets, helmets, and shields. They're yours. Distribute them to your best warriors."
A flash of joy crossed Styr's face. Bronze was the pride of the Thenns, but Reach steel was a miracle.
"And now, your task," Eddard continued, his voice growing serious. "I wanted Mance to lead the second half of your people to the Dreadfort to keep Roose Bolton in check. He's gone, so that burden falls to you. You will march to the Lonely Hills. Jon will provide the guides."
Styr patted his chest. "If anyone breaks the peace on the King's Road, I will hang them myself."
"Good." Eddard turned to Jon. "I'm taking only a hundred guards back to Winterfell. The rest of my men, the Karstarks, the Mallisters, and the Winterfell veterans stay here with you. You'll need them to deter Janos Slynt and his friends."
Jon's face darkened at the mention of Slynt. "I know. The hatred won't die easily."
"Then don't let it," Eddard said, standing to leave. "If they won't follow orders, send them to Craster's Keep to find the Old Bear's body. If they don't come back, or if they resist... you have Longclaw. Use it. A dead enemy is the only one who can't stab you in the back."
Jon managed a thin, weary smile. "I'll find my own way, Ned. But thank you for the steel."
Eddard walked out of the tent, looking at the massive wall of ice. He had secured the Wall, integrated the giants, and broken the wargs. Now, it was time to see if he could handle a Stark princess.
[System Notification: Wall Phase Concluded.]
[Quest Updated: Return to Winterfell.]
[New Unit Assignment: Styr to Dreadfort.]
[Soul Power Gained (Stabilization): 300 SP.]
Drop Some Power Stones Plz.
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