"You're making me Governor of the Free Folk below the Wall? Great King Lynn?"
Once Jon and Ser Denys had left, Mance asked the question with a half-joking tone, though the uncertainty in his eyes was real.
This wasn't just about his own position. It defined where the Free Folk would sit in the future Lynn was building.
"Yes. What do you think of the title?"
Mance thought for a moment, then shook his head.
"Honestly? I don't know. I thought you'd have me leading charges at the front."
Lynn smiled.
"'Just leave us a place to live'—that's what you said at the time."
"Besides, I'll be marching south soon enough. While I'm gone, only you can keep the Free Folk in line. I need you to hold them inside the Gift lands."
Mance had no objection. That had always been the deal.
The wildlings would hold the Wall. Lynn would take the army south to collect the tax.
Lynn added,
"One more thing. You're about to become a father. If I remember right, Dalla's due any day now."
Mance nodded with a smile. That had been one of the reasons he'd pushed so hard for Lynn to take the crown.
"Exactly. So stay here and be governor. As for the Free Folk…"
Lynn paused, choosing his words carefully.
"Unless they're willing to join my army and swear to follow orders, they stay inside the Wall and the Gift. If anyone crosses the line and causes trouble, then… the Free Folk have their freedom, and the North has its laws. I won't favor either side. Understand?"
Mance stayed silent.
This would separate the Free Folk from Lynn's inner circle. They would no longer be tightly bound together.
It couldn't be helped. If the northern lords were ever going to accept a new king, Lynn had to create some distance between himself and the wildlings.
There was nothing to complain about anyway. Right now the Free Folk needed Lynn far more than Lynn needed them.
Without Lynn turning the tide at the Wall, the wildlings would be trapped in the Haunted Forest waiting to die.
The Thenns—the strongest fighters—were already basically Lynn's personal troops. The other clans still worshipped him, but in logistics and politics they had become a massive burden.
"The New Gift and Old Gift will become an independent free city-state. I won't appoint any lords here or pass any laws. You'll govern yourselves."
"Your only obligation is to supply me with soldiers I can use in battle. In return you get food, status, and wealth."
Mercenaries.
The word flashed through Mance's mind.
On the surface it was still the same military merit system, but the reality had changed. The Free Folk and the North would become two separate political entities.
"Any diplomatic matters with the new Warden of the North are yours to handle. I'll only step in as final arbiter.
The situation is shifting, Mance. This is the best arrangement I can come up with right now."
Lynn's original plan had been simple—march south under the banner of fighting the Others and "collect taxes" to keep the wildlings fed.
But the destruction of the northern army, the fall of House Stark, the Night's Watch's surrender, and Stannis handing over an entire fleet and court had opened a completely new path.
Collect taxes? Why stop at taxes?
Take the damn throne. Become king himself.
If the Long Night the prophecies spoke of was truly coming, then only a single, truly united kingdom could bring maximum strength to bear against it.
Mance thought it over and nodded.
"I think it works. Those who want total freedom can stay. Those willing to follow the rules will have their place.
A hundred thousand people is still too many for the Wall. I'll talk to Stark when the time is right."
He stressed "when the time is right" because Jon was still mostly a figurehead at the moment.
At least the Free Folk's place in the new order was settled. Lynn felt a weight lift.
This was the advantage of absolute power.
Looking at the bigger picture, everything was moving in the right direction.
He had captured Stannis's entire fleet and court, and now held the loyalty of the Lord of Winterfell.
Even if that lord was currently more symbol than substance—about as useful as the Night's Watch right now—never underestimate the power of the Stark name in the North.
Since Brandon the Builder in the Age of Heroes, House Stark had ruled the North as kings for more than eight thousand years.
The name "Stark" itself stood for legitimate northern rule—the undisputed spiritual and political leader of the North in the hearts of its people.
Even beyond the Wall, the old sayings "The North Remembers" and "When the lone wolf dies, the pack survives" were known to everyone.
Lynn had locked in the future political map and kept his promise to the Free Folk. He felt lighter.
"We'll adjust as we go. If things get bad enough on the front lines one day, we can just tear down the Wall and let those bastards have it."
He laughed as he said it.
Besides Ramsay's letter, Lynn had received several replies from lords south of the Neck. Most were dripping with sarcasm and insults.
Compared to those, Ramsay Snow's crude threats actually felt refreshingly direct.
It still annoyed him.
Mainly because communication was so slow he couldn't fire back in real time.
Mance had long since stopped reacting to the strange phrases that occasionally slipped out of Lynn's mouth.
"Some of the Free Folk who helped chase Stannis wanted to trade their merit points for armor. I told them no."
Mance brought up a small matter.
"Good call. Armor only goes to the regular army. If they want it, they can sign up at the recruitment office."
Lynn approved.
At Lynn's direction, Mance had begun raising a new force. Anyone who joined had to swear an oath to the god Lynn followed: absolute obedience to orders and no infighting or blood feuds between clans.
They called the new regiment the Godsworn. Fixed strength of two thousand, only the best accepted.
No choice—more than that and they couldn't feed them, and someone still had to hold the Wall.
Hundreds had volunteered, but most were turned away by the strict requirements. So far they had a little over a thousand.
Among them were normal-looking descendants of the First Men and some of the stranger clans whose appearance had already changed over generations.
Lynn had reserved five hundred slots for Tormund and planned to put the Godsworn under his command.
Among the Free Folk, only the Thenns and Tormund's Red Hall clan had any real discipline. The name Giantsbane still carried enough weight to keep these wild new recruits in line.
The Godsworn would receive the same top-tier military merit privileges as the Thenns.
The Thenn warriors themselves had been reorganized into the Royal Guard—fixed strength of one thousand. Every able-bodied adult Thenn male could apply. All the best equipment and resources went to them.
The Royal Guard was already fully equipped with steel plate and mail. The old bronze armor and spare mail had been passed down to the Godsworn.
Besides these three thousand elite troops, nearly five thousand irregulars were still willing to fight.
Most came in clan or family groups and still operated the old wildling way. Their overall quality was beyond "mixed."
Lynn had screened them hard by height, age, and equipment, keeping only about two thousand of the strongest young men as logistics and auxiliary troops.