Even Daenerys couldn't deny it — the Wall in this other world had far surpassed the Great Wall of the Celestial Empire. Its five hundred kilometers of length were nothing compared to its average height of nearly 200 meters, and its enduring presence over millennia.
Two hundred meters — from afar, it looked like an unbroken mountain range stretched across the land. In the past ten thousand years, it had shown no signs of decay. If the Night King never came, it could very well stand another hundred thousand, even a million years.
The Wall, spanning five hundred kilometers, was guarded by nineteen castles. At its peak, Castle Black alone housed five thousand Night's Watchmen. Altogether, the nineteen castles had nearly ten thousand men.
Don't think ten thousand is a small number — that was a standing army. King's Landing, with over half a million people, only had three thousand city guards.
A powerful army tends to breed dangerous ambition. The history of the Night's Watch included commanders who broke their vows.
There had been 997 Lords Commander of the Night's Watch — among them were madmen, tyrants, and fools. Like Runcel Hightower, who tried to pass his position to his bastard son. Or Rodrik Flint, who dreamed of becoming King Beyond the Wall.
Six hundred years ago, the commanders of the Shadow Tower and the Nightfort even broke out into a brawl. When the Lord Commander tried to stop them, they joined forces to murder him.
Yet the lords and kings of the Seven Kingdoms never considered the Night's Watch a threat to their rule — not because they trusted their honor, but because the nineteen castles of the Wall were defenseless against attacks from the south.
Indeed, the Watch was founded to guard against threats from the North — wildlings (while the White Walkers had become legend). Their castles were built directly against the Wall, leaving three sides completely unfortified, wide open to assault.
This design was intentional — a safeguard against rebellion from within. But now, it had become a fatal flaw for Jon Snow and his allies.
Because Mance Rayder, the King-Beyond-the-Wall, had spent over a decade as a Night's Watchman. He knew every weakness of the Wall.
Now, only three castles remained manned: the Shadow Tower and Eastwatch-by-the-Sea on the flanks, and Castle Black in the middle — the main stronghold of the Night's Watch.
Before Jeor Mormont (Jorah's father) led a doomed expedition north, the Wall was garrisoned by a thousand men: two hundred at the Shadow Tower, two hundred at Eastwatch, and six hundred at Castle Black.
Lord Commander Mormont, hoping to investigate White Walkers and wildling movements, led three hundred elite men north from the Wall — two hundred of them from Castle Black.
But they hadn't brought weapons capable of killing White Walkers. Nearly all three hundred men perished. Aside from Jon and a few of his companions, only thirty or forty survived.
Afterward, Mance Rayder deliberately stirred up trouble at both ends of the Wall, forcing the Watch to spread themselves thin over the five hundred kilometers — while secretly sending a two-hundred-man strike team over the Wall, intending to circle around and launch a surprise attack from behind on Castle Black.
Jon Snow and Ygritte were part of that strike team.
Jon, being the protagonist, managed to escape.
But Castle Black was left with only forty to fifty defenders — most of them old, weak, or infirm.
As mentioned before, Castle Black had no walls — not even wooden palisades. The enemy could march straight in. The Watch had no choice but to hold their ground.
Upon receiving Jon's warning, the Night's Watch abandoned the kitchens, the dining hall, the stables, the towers — they emptied the armory and chose to defend only the passage that connected the North to the lands beyond the Wall.
They stacked barrels filled with iron ingots and salted mutton, wicker baskets, bundles of dyed black wool, wooden stakes, and sacks of grain to form a curved barricade three meters high.
Within this defensive circle were only two structures: the gate itself, and a massive zigzag wooden staircase leading up the Wall.
The staircase twisted upward like a bolt of lightning, its thick wooden beams embedded deep in the ice — solid and sturdy.
Aside from the Watch, over a hundred villagers from nearby settlements had taken refuge here.
The strategy was simple — soak the lowest section of the staircase in oil. Hold the barricade as long as possible. If forced to retreat, fall back layer by layer up the staircase, whittling down the wildlings with arrows and crossbows, and finally ignite the oil barrels buried at the base of the "Z"-shaped stairs — burning and collapsing the lower steps, killing or maiming those who pursued.
Whether they could kill all the wildlings was uncertain, but they could at least help the Night's Watch survive the night.
On a snowy night under a hazy moon, the silent land was shrouded in a silver-gray gloom, broken only by the howling wind that pierced to the bone.
Under the moonlight, the enemy launched their surprise attack at midnight. The warhorn sounded, and the battle instantly reached a fever pitch.
The wildlings surged into Castle Black like a tide, burning the hall and the stables, vaulting over the crude barricade, chasing down Watchmen and civilians in the courtyard. Some even climbed the wooden stairs.
Jon retreated from the barricade to the first level of the stairs, then from the first to the second. Now, he slumped against the railing on the fourth level, the arrow wound in his left leg — courtesy of Ygritte — aching as if it had been torn open. Sweat poured down his face as he gasped for breath, his fingers tightening on an arrow wrapped in burning fire cotton, aimed at the oil barrels below.
Flames. Ice. Blood. Screams. The wails of the dying...
"Screeeeech—"
Suddenly, a beast's cry tore through the sky. A heavy, scorching presence blanketed Castle Black. Not only Jon, but the wildlings and the Watchmen below all involuntarily slowed and looked up.
"Whoosh—" A sharp whistle cut through the air. Something was falling toward the Wall.
A spear.
A three- to four-meter-long wooden spear.
"Thunk!" It embedded itself in the blood-soaked dirt of the courtyard. As the stunned wildlings and Watchmen looked on, the flag tied to the spear slowly unfurled, caught by the snow-laden wind curling around the base of the Wall.
A black banner... with a red dragon. A three-headed dragon.
Jon Snow stared, dumbfounded. He lowered his flaming arrow and blurted out in disbelief, "Targaryen?"
"The dragon banner!" The other Watchmen recognized it almost simultaneously — the royal symbol that had ruled the continent for three centuries.
"A dragon! A great dragon!" someone cried, pointing skyward.
Jon looked up. On the upper levels of the stairs, the usually composed old maester had gone mad, waving and shouting, "It's a dragon! No doubt! That's a dragon's roar! A great dragon! A Targaryen has come!"
Tears streamed down the old man's face.
As if in answer to his cry, a massive shadow plunged from the sky.
"Screeeeech—BOOM!"
A white dragon!
Larger than anything Jon had ever seen, the white dragon dove at high speed, sweeping over the wildlings and unleashing a stream of red flame, fourteen or fifteen meters long. Jon could see the terror contorting the wildlings' faces — he could feel their fear.
He trembled too — a strange mix of awe and terror swelling in his chest.
The white dragon didn't kill a single wildling on its first pass. It swept over the courtyard and landed at the far edge of Castle Black. Step by step, it walked toward the barricade-ringed courtyard. Every footfall struck like a drumbeat in their hearts.
"Lay down your weapons and surrender—those who surrender will not be killed!"A clear female voice echoed across the battlefield.
A dragonrider!Who is she?Jon Snow peeked out, trying to catch a glimpse, but aside from the occasional spark bursting from the white dragon's nostrils, he saw nothing.
As the dragon approached the barricade made of barrels and sacks, a wildling shouted, "It's a woman—kill her!"
Jon recognized the voice. It was Styr, the Thenn chieftain and the leader of the raiding party.
Bald-headed Styr raised his sword and charged at the dragon. The white dragon seemed stunned, not reacting at all—until Styr was just five meters away.
"Boom!"A black blur whipped out like lightning from behind. Styr was flung into the air like a tomato struck by a baseball bat. His body split in two midair. Aside from his head and legs, everything else turned into a splattered mess, raining down on the wildlings charging toward the dragon—onto their faces, hair, and torn leather armor.
Fear gripped the hearts of the wildlings.
(Latest chapter first published on 69 Book Bar!)
But it wasn't over.
"Screeeeech!"The white dragon let out a piercing roar, a dark red fireball swelling in its mouth—first the size of an orange, then expanding to the size of a winnowing basket. Then—
"Zzzzzzzzzhhhhhh—"
The enormous fireball suddenly transformed into a searing red arc, forty meters long and as wide as a palm. Like a massive cleaver, it came crashing down in a single, swift stroke.
"Boom!"Wood chips, slushy snow, blood-soaked mud, severed limbs, and bright red sparks exploded along the forty-meter path.
"Gulp."Jon swallowed hard, drenched in sweat. Suddenly, the woman on the dragon filled him with more dread than the entire wildling army.
"Surrender and you'll be spared. Resist and you'll be killed!"That woman's cold voice rang out again.
Hmm… Her voice had sounded sweet before, but now it somehow carried a cruel, ruthless edge.
The forty-meter-long "cleaver" looked impressive, but in truth, it only singed four or five unlucky wildlings—no one was actually "cleaved" to death. Dragonfire had merely changed form; its power and nature remained the same. Illusory flames couldn't truly slice through tough flesh.
In simple terms, aside from being visually spectacular and stirring up a shockwave, the real damage came from the heat of the fire itself.
As for the severed limbs, those were already littered across the battlefield.
But Jon didn't know that—and neither did the wildlings!
"Screeeeech—"When Big Black swooped overhead, gliding above the wildlings, they finally broke. One dropped his weapon, then another, and a third—surrendering one after the other.
Dany remained seated on Little White's back, unmoving. The White Knight helped Barristan Selmy climb down from Big Black.
The old maester had been flying for nearly 20 hours straight. His face was pale, legs trembling, on the verge of collapse.
From the Trident to the Wall was nearly 3,500 kilometers. They stopped three times along the way, each time for about an hour—to eat, relieve themselves, stretch, and rest—before continuing.
Dany could feel it: after around 2,000 kilometers, Little White began to tire. But Big Black maintained a steady pace, showing almost no signs of fatigue. Even in high-altitude flight, he was circulating the nine-colored vortex, absorbing magical particles from the void.
Magic gave Big Black greater stamina.
"Which Targaryen is she?"
While pondering this, members of the Night's Watch descended the wooden ladders, promptly tying up and detaining the surrendered wildlings. Then, a black-haired man with a thick beard helped an unsteady old man in a gray robe over to them.
The White Knight stepped forward, lifted his visor, and said loudly,"Barristan—I am Barristan Selmy. I've come with Her Majesty Daenerys Targaryen to aid the Night's Watch."
"Barristan!"The young man exclaimed, even more astonished to see the legendary White Knight in the flesh.
"Daenerys?!"The old maester was overjoyed. He could hardly believe the dream-like scene before him.
"It's me."
Dany noticed the long chain around the old man's neck and guessed his identity. She dismounted Little White, took off her helmet, and her silver braid fell across her chest.
(PS: Regarding Maester Aemon's eyesight — this version follows the TV series, where he isn't blind. In the A Song of Ice and Fire books, Aemon is already 102 years old and blind.
It's easy to overlook his blindness while reading, since he still treats wounded Night's Watch members himself—like when he tended to Jon's arrow wounds.
As for the timeline—Stannis only started marching north after hearing of Joffrey's death. Traveling by sea from Dragonstone to Eastwatch is around 7,000 kilometers.
They had to stop for supplies along the way. With over a thousand cavalrymen, knights, and their warhorses aboard more than twenty ships, they'd need to stop in places like Braavos for food and water.
Factoring in the delays, how long would that take?
Let's say three months, especially with Melisandre sacrificing the Lord of Brightwater to ensure favorable winds.
By then, Tywin would surely be dead. Tyrion would have escaped to Essos, eventually meeting Dany in Volantis. By the time Dany reached the Wall, Stannis would arrive as well.
There might be slight inconsistencies, but the timeline gap shouldn't exceed two months.)
(End of Chapter)
Want to read the chapters in Advance? Join my Patreon
https://patreon.com/Glimmer09