Open the gates.
This issue was the core of all conflicts.
Hatred had flowed in the blood of those on both sides of the Wall for thousands of years; it couldn't be easily resolved by a single duel.
At least, this group of wildlings didn't believe it.
Lynn didn't answer immediately.
His gaze swept over every wildling in the tent.
In their faces—whether filled with awe, doubt, or anticipation—he saw the most primal desire.
They all wanted to live.
They didn't want to stay in this place beyond the Wall for a single moment longer.
"Rest assured. Among the Night's Watch right now, apart from the Lord Commander, my words carry the most weight."
"You have absolutely no need to worry about that."
A collective gasp echoed through the tent.
Even Mance Rayder was stunned.
The Night's Watch, the oldest order in the Seven Kingdoms, obeyed only their Lord Commander and the laws of the realm.
Why would they obey someone who wasn't the Lord Commander?
"From this day forth, inside and outside the Wall, what I say goes."
Lynn looked around at everyone, his pitch-black eyes showing no hint of jest.
"You want land, you want food, you want warm hearths, you want your women and children to stop dying of hunger and cold."
"I can give you all of that."
"South of the Wall, that vast stretch of land known as the Gift, will become your new home."
"You can graze your herds, farm, and build your own villages there."
"Live there together, just like all the Northmen."
Lynn's words set the hearts of all the wildling chieftains on fire.
The Gift!
Although Southerners saw it as a desolate place where birds wouldn't even shit.
To these wildlings, that legendary fertile land was the dreamland they had yearned to step foot on for generations!
"In exchange."
Lynn's tone turned cold.
"You must take up arms and become the first line of defense for the North, guarding the Wall together with the Night's Watch."
"You need not kneel to any King or King in the North, but you must swear an oath to me, to all the living."
"Your enemy is no longer the Night's Watch."
"It is those monsters crawling out of the Lands of Always Winter!"
"Anyone unwilling to follow the rules, anyone who continues to burn, kill, and pillage in the North, I will personally twist his head off."
"And my dragon will burn his tribe—tents, livestock, women, and children—to ashes."
A threat. A naked threat.
But accompanying it was the hope they had dreamed of.
"I... I agree!"
Tormund was the first to break the silence.
His broad face was flushed with excitement.
"Anything's better than dealing with those dead things!"
"I've wanted to go south and see for ages!"
"Grown this big and haven't even seen a Southern woman yet. Are they as sturdy as ours?"
His words significantly eased the tense atmosphere in the tent.
"We listen to you!"
"That's right! As long as we can go to the Gift!"
"Mance, agree quickly. We can't stay here another day."
More and more wildling chieftains stood up, feverish flames burning in their eyes.
Mance Rayder looked at the scene that was almost spiraling out of control, at the young man who had turned the will of a hundred thousand Free Folk with his own strength.
He knew the old era of the Free Folk was over.
---
The group returning to Castle Black looked incredibly bizarre.
At the very front was Lynn, riding a mammoth.
Behind him followed Jon Snow and the three distracted rangers.
And behind them were Mance Rayder, Tormund, Ygritte, and over twenty haughty wildling tribal chieftains.
On one side were the crows in black; on the other, their mortal enemies of a thousand years.
At this moment, however, they walked silently across the vast snowy plains like a clumsy ragtag army.
"Hey, Snow boy!"
Tormund's loud voice was jarring in the silent snowfield.
He hooked his arm around Jon's shoulder and passed over a wineskin filled with strong spirits.
"Want a sip?"
"This is brewed with giant's milk. Has a hell of a kick!"
Jon stiffened.
Smelling the pungent alcohol, he instinctively wanted to refuse.
"Drink! Are you a man or not?"
Tormund glared.
"I'm telling you, that Lynn kid is no fun at all. No joy in him. Unlike you—you look honest."
Jon glanced at Lynn walking ahead, then at Tormund's face, which clearly said "refuse and you disrespect me."
Finally, he steeled himself, took the wineskin, and took a small swig.
The fiery liquid instantly burned his throat, making him cough repeatedly.
"Hahaha! Useless Southerner!"
Tormund laughed triumphantly.
He snatched the wineskin back and guzzled down most of it himself.
On the other side of the group, Ygritte stuck to Lynn like a little shadow, never leaving his side.
"Are you really going to let us go to the Gift?"
She lowered her voice, a strange light flickering in her grey eyes.
"Mm."
Lynn kept his eyes forward.
"Then you... where will you live?"
"Castle Black? Winterfell? Or King's Landing?"
"I don't know."
"Then..." Ygritte bit her lip.
"Can I come find you?"
Lynn paused, turning to look at her.
Her fiery red hair was exceptionally dazzling against the white snow.
That face, usually filled with stubbornness, was now written with cautious expectation.
Lynn simply raised his hand and tucked a strand of red hair blown by the cold wind behind her ear.
"First, help your people rebuild their homes."
"After I return from Essos, I will come find you."
Ygritte's cheeks instantly turned as red as a ripe apple.
When the massive silhouette of Castle Black, looking like the end of the world, appeared on the horizon again, the group stopped.
Two long, rapid horn blasts cut through the silence of the Wall.
Signifying wildlings approaching.
The massive steel tunnel gate remained tightly shut.
Atop the Wall, countless black figures moved, bows drawn, glinting with cold light.
"Seems your brothers don't welcome us much."
Tormund spat, shouldering his massive bone axe.
The other wildling chieftains also gripped their weapons, the atmosphere turning tense again.
Lynn ignored them, walking forward alone.
He looked up at the seven-hundred-foot wall of ice and shouted.
"Lord Commander Mormont, open the gate."
Finally.
Accompanied by the tooth-aching grind of winches, the ice-sealed iron gate slowly rose.
At the end of the tunnel was the empty courtyard of Castle Black.
Lord Commander Jeor Mormont stood at the very front.
Behind him were Benjen Stark and hundreds of Night's Watchmen holding longswords, ready for battle.
Two groups of people faced each other across a distance of several dozen meters.
Tension permeated the air.
Hatred spanning thousands of years felt ready to explode at any moment.
"What is the meaning of this?!"
A radical Night's Watch officer pointed at Mance Rayder behind Lynn and roared hoarsely.
"You actually brought this traitor to the Watch into Castle Black?!"
"Fuck you, crow! He's no damn traitor of yours!"
Tormund exploded immediately, waving his bone axe as if to charge. "I've wanted to twist your bastard head off and use it as a chamber pot for ages!"
"Stop!"
"Shut up, all of you!"
Two angry shouts rang out simultaneously.
One from Mance Rayder, the other from Lynn.
Lynn walked slowly to the center of the standoff.
He didn't unleash that terrifying frost power again, simply standing there quietly.
But everyone felt Lynn suppressing a rage.
He stared straight at the instigating Night's Watchman.
"From this day forth, the war between the Night's Watch and the Free Folk is over."
Lynn's gaze swept from Mormont's face to Mance Rayder's.
"You have only one common enemy."
"The Night King."
He raised his hand, pointing north toward the endless Haunted Forest.
"You can continue killing each other here, using your blood and corpses to add fresh recruits to his coming army of the dead."
"Or, lay down your hatred, pick up your weapons, stand together, and fight to the death for all the living."
Lynn lowered his hand, looking around at everyone.
"I give you a choice."
"But I don't give you much time."
"And, if anyone starts trouble again, don't blame me for showing no mercy!"
The entire courtyard fell silent.
Emotions fluctuated on Lord Commander Mormont's weathered face.
He looked at Lynn, then at the fierce-eyed wildlings. Finally, he nodded heavily.
"Castle Black is willing to forge a pact with the Free Folk."
He turned to face the Night's Watch brothers behind him, some of whom still looked unwilling and angry.
"As the 997th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, I command you."
"Lay down your weapons."
Mance Rayder did the same on his side.
The atmosphere relaxed considerably.
---
A fragile peace was finally achieved for the moment.
The leaders of both sides decided to discuss subsequent details in the Lord Commander's Tower.
Just as the crowd prepared to move toward the tower, a clear female voice broke the oppressive atmosphere.
"Ser Lynn!"
Myrcella trotted out of the tower, lifting the hem of her dress.
When she saw the wildlings in the courtyard, dressed in furs with savage faces, her emerald eyes instantly filled with fear.
She stopped in her tracks, her small face pale.
"Roar—"
A low dragon roar came from above the courtyard.
A shadow blocking out the sun shrouded all of Castle Black.
Winter's massive body spiraled down.
Its three gigantic heads, with six golden vertical pupils like molten lava, stared dead at the group of "strangers" below.
A terrifying dragon aura belonging to an apex predator descended with a boom!
Every wildling in the courtyard.
Including the fearless Tormund.
In this moment, they all felt their legs go weak.
This was fear stemming from the depths of the soul!
They might not fear the swords of the Night's Watch.
But in the face of a living dragon, their meager courage was instantly crushed to dust!