Chapter 303: Ice-Mark and the Umber Daughter
Aside from Arya's extreme dissatisfaction at failing to see the giant weirwood tree at the bottom of the well, the Northern inspection tour's visit to Nightfort was considered a success. However, after resting there for a day and two nights, the real challenge lay ahead as they set out once more.
They were about to inspect the villages and fortresses inhabited by wildlings—or more accurately, the New Gift residents.
Emotionally, Egger wished he could simply use mountain clansmen as background actors to bluff his way through this trial. But on one hand, he worried that the truth would eventually out; on the other, there weren't enough idle mountain clansmen in the Gift to spare. Furthermore, the Night's Watch Industry's current financial state did not permit such extravagant logistical maneuvers.
Not to mention—he was actually devoting a massive amount of energy to remote-controlling another major operation, one that would likely decide the winner of this struggle for power within the Gift.
Despite the mounting tasks, Egger was not entirely idle. He took measures to ensure the inspection wouldn't encounter major blunders: the route was meticulously planned to pass only through tribes that had originally lived far from the Wall, had fewer historical conflicts with Northmen, spoke the Common Tongue, and had been relatively cooperative during the implementation of the Gift settlement plan.
Choosing the right route was only a start. Building on that, Egger made a series of arrangements to distract the Northern tour upon their arrival, preventing them from looking too closely or asking questions that might inadvertently reveal problems that would sour their opinion of the settlement plan.
IceMark, an abandoned fortress now jointly occupied by five medium-sized New Gift tribes. The snow that had begun days ago was falling harder with no sign of stopping. Amidst the white expanse of the freezing wind, the rulers of the North were, for the first time in thousands of years, making contact with a large-scale group of beyond-the-Wall folk in a non-hostile capacity.
Though it was also at the foot of the Wall and also an ancient Night's Watch castle, the atmosphere was starkly different from the visit to Nightfort. Before even entering, the guards brought by the Northern houses sharpened their focus under their leaders' reminders. They checked their gear and adjusted their weapons, their minds strung tight with vigilance—all feared that one lapse might lead to their own lord suffering the same fate as Jeor Mormont.
"The biggest difference between fortresses occupied by New Gift residents and those of the mountain clans is that the stairs leading to the top of the Wall have not been rebuilt or repaired, and the Logistics Department does not allocate funds or masonry resources for wall repairs. The former is to ensure the Wall remains entirely under the control of the Night's Watch or its reliable allies; the latter is to ensure the Watch maintains a definitive military advantage in any potential internal conflicts within the Gift."
Knowing the Northern lords harbored deep distrust toward the folk from beyond the Wall, Egger gave up trying to convince them that the New Gift residents were reliable. Instead, he took the opposite tack: as they walked toward IceMark, he introduced the nobles to the various measures he had implemented to guard against New Gift uprisings. There was no need for much detail; the sight of the settlement spoke for itself. Low fences woven from sticks and branches were only fit for keeping out wild beasts; the residential buildings were dilapidated and crumbling, with none exceeding five meters in height; the courtyards and corridors between houses were desolate, with few figures in sight.
Covered by a blanket of white snow, IceMark—despite having been inhabited for several months—still looked like a ruin.
Both were abandoned Watch forts, yet the difference between the New Gift residences and the mountain clan castles was vast. Poor foundations were one reason, but beyond that, the former free folk were used to a nomadic life and lacked a sense of home now that they had settled. Furthermore, half of the able-bodied men had gone to Queenscrown seeking work to support themselves. Combined, these objective and subjective factors meant no one had the heart for construction, which was the true reason the settlement remained so desolate.
Of course, it wasn't actually as miserable as it looked; it was simply that the weather was too cold and food was not overly abundant, so most residents hid in their homes to sleep and conserve energy. The blinding white snow merely amplified the visual experience of desolation.
The ugly bride must eventually face the in-laws. Ordinary residents could hide in their houses, but the tribal chieftains could not avoid meeting the masters of the North. Summoned by scouts who arrived moments ahead of the party, the five tribal leaders—wrapped in old furs, either alone or with a few followers—stood sparsely at the edge of the fortress fence to welcome the Lord of the North.
It was surreal. For ages, the Seven Kingdoms had been another world to the folk beyond the Wall—a place beyond that high wall at the end of the world, a phantom enemy, an object of hatred, or occasionally a whetstone for heroes to prove their courage, a source of metal goods, and a source of new women. Who could have imagined that times would change so suddenly, and they would become subjects of the Seven Kingdoms?
The transition of status was merely a matter of surrender, but changes in mindset and inherent concepts could not be achieved in short order. Facing a group of high-ranking nobles from the kneelers they once despised, a sense of strangeness naturally arose.
This strangeness brought with it an awkward atmosphere.
If the patriarch of the Flint clan was merely a bit clumsy with words, then these five New Gift chieftains were utterly silver-tongued in reverse. After struggling through the self-introductions Egger had coached them on and giving a brief report on the fortress's status, the leaders quickly forgot their lines and found themselves at a loss for how to continue the conversation.
Fortunately, Egger was present. As the head of the Gift settlement plan, he wouldn't stand by and let the atmosphere freeze. He stepped in just before more than half the group felt the discomfort: "Many of the able-bodied among the New Gift residents have gone to Queenscrown for work, so it looks... well, a bit sparse here. But overall, order and law have begun to extend to this place and are starting to take effect. However, let's set those matters aside for today. First, I wish to take you all to meet someone."
Meet someone? The Northern nobles were curious, but out of trust and basic respect for Egger—and because the weather was truly murderous—they didn't question him much. Surrounded by their guards, the group was led through the main gate of IceMark. Under the uneasy gazes of New Gift residents peeking out from low houses and half-buried tents, they walked toward the ruins of the main keep from when the Watch was stationed there. They lifted a heavy fur curtain and entered.
The core building of the fortress, when intact, should have been three stories and over ten meters high. Now, the top two floors had collapsed. The remaining relatively intact ground floor had been patched up, its holes and stairwells blocked. A fireplace was lit; though it was a bit empty, it was unexpectedly warm and comfortable compared to the frozen world outside.
This place usually served as a meeting spot for the five chieftains to discuss important matters and exchange necessities; now, with the Northern delegation visiting, it had been cleared to serve as a guest house.
Currently, a middle-aged woman and two teenage boys were sitting on stools by the fireplace. Seeing Egger lead people in, they stood up hurriedly, looking at the crowd with stiff, awkward postures.
Robb looked at the three but saw nothing extraordinary about them. He turned back to Egger in confusion. "Where is the person we are here to see?"
Egger smiled faintly and didn't answer directly. "Lord Mors Umber, I remember during my last visit to Last Hearth, you roared at me in anger that wildlings had stolen your only daughter... do you remember that?"
The hint was far too obvious. Mors "Crowfood" Umber, who had been standing bored in the crowd, gave a start and fixed his gaze intensely on the woman standing by the hearth.
The North had a small total population and only a handful of Great Houses, who always stood united under House Stark. When something happened to one house, news traveled fast. Among those present, except for Robb who had not yet been born at the time of the incident, every named person had heard of the tragic accident involving the Umbers. They all revealed expressions of amazement and turned as one to look at the Umber representatives.
Greatjon Umber turned to stare at Egger, his eyes wide. "What do you mean? Are you saying this person before us is my uncle's daughter, my long-lost sister?"
Egger shrugged. "At least, that is what she claims. As for whether it's true, Lord Mors is here; isn't identifying her himself the most convenient method?"
The Northern nobles immediately lost their composure. While brushing ice and snow from their clothes, they began to chatter excitedly. Several people present had seen Mors's daughter back in the day. But that was twenty years ago; the person they remembered was a young, vibrant noble lady like Arya, who was currently standing beside Robb. Before them now, however, was a gaunt, weather-beaten "middle-aged wildling woman." To say they were the same person was truly difficult to believe instantly.
"My lords, quiet down!" After a few seconds of commotion, Robb restored order. He frowned and asked the party involved: "Mors, do you have any way to recognize your daughter? Or rather, madam, do you have any evidence to prove you are the daughter of Mors Umber?"
The woman looked at the Northern lords with some nervousness; in truth, she could no longer recognize any of them. Clutching the two boys, she took a few steps toward the one-eyed man who should be her father, though she hardly recognized him either. She whispered, "Father, the day I was taken, we argued at breakfast. The last thing you said to me was—'Be gone then, you foul girl, and don't let me see you again.' I thought then, 'Fine, I'll go,' and that I'd run to a place you'd never find so you'd regret it for the rest of your life. Then, I stole my favorite filly and rode out of the castle. A few miles north, I was ambushed by a raiding party. They tripped the horse and caught me. They raided a few more small villages away from the castle and then forced me to go north with them over the Wall, back to their tribe. Since then, I've lived with them until Mance Rayder led the free folk to surrender and I finally returned to the south side of the Wall."
Those words, which Mors had regretted for over twenty years after saying them, were clearly unforgettable to him. This Northern noble, who was the most hostile toward wildlings in the entire tour, immediately felt moisture welling in his one remaining eye. He took two steps toward the daughter who had endured twenty years of hardship beyond the Wall—whose current appearance could pass for his sister. His voice began to tremble: "I'm sorry, my dear..."
"I have no wish to interrupt this touching reunion," Roose Bolton said suddenly. "I do not doubt the truth of the story, but these could be the details Mors's true daughter shared with others after being kidnapped. Do you have any evidence that is harder to forge, such as a birthmark or a scar, to prove your identity?"
"I have a very prominent mole on the small of my back that hurts when pressed hard... so I've always preferred to sleep on my side or my stomach," the woman answered without hesitation. "If needed, I can show you later when we are alone, Father."
Mors had only one daughter; he could not possibly forget her characteristics. He hesitated no longer and strode forward, ignoring the gazes of everyone around him as he pulled his daughter into a powerful embrace. He held her so tightly one might fear he would crush her, causing the two children beside the woman to flinch back half a step.
A man with a back like a bear and a head taller than Egger—a hard man only a moment before—was suddenly sobbing so hard he could barely speak: "I only said those things in anger that day, my dear. Please forgive me... I know... I know nothing I say can erase the suffering you've endured all these years, but since fate has brought you back to me, I swear I will never let anyone harm you again!"
The woman likewise burst into tears. "No, it is I who should beg forgiveness, Father. It was my own willful nature that brought heaven's punishment upon me... I am so, so sorry..."
Thus, as Old Leech had said, a touching reunion began before everyone's eyes. Father and daughter clung together, exchanging tearful apologies for a long while before finally pulling apart. Only then did Mors Umber notice the two teenage boys standing awkwardly to the side. "These two... are they my grandsons?"
"Yes. One is named Angus, the other Benny. I gave them their names. Children, greet your grandfather."
"Where is their damned father?"
"He died during Mance Rayder's attack on the Wall."
"Dead?" Mors initially gritted his teeth, disappointed the object of his rage was gone, but eventually, he could only let out a long sigh. "Good that he's dead. Even if he hadn't been, I would have killed him today."
On second thought, perhaps realizing it was inappropriate to talk of killing their father in front of his grandsons, he fell silent. Regardless of the fact that the two boys didn't know him at all, he pulled them in for a hug as well. "Good boys, don't worry, it's all over now. When this inspection is over, you're coming back with me to Last Hearth—hey, Jon, you don't have a problem with that, do you?"
The uncle's two grandsons weren't exactly going to challenge the inheritance of House Umber. What did the Greatjon have to worry about? The Lord of Last Hearth shrugged. "No objection. If it makes you happy."
Egger's plan had worked. The pace of the inspection of IceMark was completely disrupted by this reunion. The Northern lords forgot the New Gift tribes entirely, huddling around Mors and his daughter to ask questions. After a long while of pleasantries, Roose Bolton was the first to snap back to reality. He first dismissed the tribal chieftains, then ordered the tour's guards to begin arranging the defenses for their lodgings, and finally signaled Egger to handle the hospitality arrangements.
The bond between Mors and his daughter was deeper than expected; this was a good thing. Egger was secretly delighted. He kept a small notebook for all the things that needed doing but were too trivial and might be forgotten—finding the daughter for Mors "Crowfood" was one of them. He had ordered the search to begin before returning from the North and received the good news shortly after arriving back at Castle Black with Robb and the others.
The matter proceeded so quickly and smoothly for a reason—in truth, it wasn't Egger's men who had found Mors Umber's daughter. Long before Mance Rayder led his wildling army to surrender, at the very start of the Umber daughter's tribe being assigned to IceMark, she had revealed her identity to the Logistics Department official stationed there. But the result was obvious: Egger's staff from the south were unfamiliar with the family members of Northern nobles. Fewer than ten people were managing the affairs of an entire fortress and were busy as could be. When a wildling woman dressed in rags with a face full of the marks of time suddenly ran up saying she was the daughter of a great Northern lord and demanded the Logistics Department send her home... who would take that seriously right away?
The Logistics Department hadn't taken her words seriously, and she could have hurried back to Last Hearth herself... but the Night's Watch was particularly strict about managing the New Gift residents; leaving the settlement without permission was a serious violation. Thus, after returning south of the Wall after twenty years, Mors Umber's daughter and her children had spent several miserable months scraping by until Egger ordered a search for her across the Gift. Only then did the logistics officer at IceMark remember her existence and report the situation to headquarters.
For the Umber daughter, the Logistics Department's initial neglect meant several extra months of hardship for her and her children. But for Egger, the timing of finding her was perfect. Presenting her to Mors while the Northern lords were visiting IceMark not only bought at least one extra night of preparation for the local New Gift residents but also effortlessly diverted the attention of the noble who hated wildlings the most. Most importantly, the Logistics Department had already arranged for a reliable person to communicate with the daughter—Egger hoped that through this Northern noblewoman who had lived half her life beyond the Wall, he could quietly convey a message extremely beneficial to the Gift settlement plan: the migrants from beyond the Wall, the free folk, or wildlings, were not as different from the inhabitants of the Seven Kingdoms as most people imagined.
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