"Hahaha! The North is too monotonous. I want to see the Free Cities too!"The King-Beyond-the-Wall suddenly sat up in bed, laughing heartily with a booming voice.
"Dana, you're about to give birth. Just lie down and rest these next few days. If there's work to be done, let Val handle it," Mance said softly, gently rubbing his wife's red and swollen, frostbitten hands. "I'm going to summon the clan leaders for a meeting. Once we cross the Wall, I'll have more time to spend with you."
As the wife of the King-Beyond-the-Wall, Dana didn't enjoy many privileges compared to other women in the camp. Even heavily pregnant, she still had to milk goats herself, feed the livestock, cook for her husband and the visiting wildling chiefs, and even wash clothes.
Servants?There were no "professional servants" among the free folk. Freemen do not kneel—they won't kneel before any lord or king.
Val wasn't a servant either. She was Mance's sister-in-law, Dana's younger sister.
Still, Dana was part of the privileged class. While most wildlings struggled daily just to fill their stomachs, Mance's family neither farmed, herded, nor hunted, yet they were never short of food or drink. They always had enough meat and wine—only the cooking had to be done by their own hands.
Just like the Night's Watch crowding around Jon and the others to ask about the negotiations, wildling raiders and spearwives surrounded the dozen or so Magnars, bombarding them with questions.
Mance Rayder didn't drive away the idle onlookers. Instead, he had an open patch of muddy ground cleared, lit over a dozen fires, and stood in the center of the crowd to explain the Lease Agreement in full.
After that, he began speaking about the dire situation the wildlings currently faced:"I won't lie. That woman is extremely clever. You can't outwit her with tricks. There are two dragons guarding the Wall. Breaking through by force is nearly impossible.
Even if a group of strong free folk manage to slip into the North under the cover of night, the vast lands make it nearly impossible to evade the dragons' pursuit.
And even if, say, some do hide in the woods and survive, there'd be too few of them to take down the tall castles of the Northern lords."
"Mance, does that mean you've decided to accept the she-dragon queen's... whatever agreement?" a wildling shouted loudly.
"No," Mance shook his head. "As King-Beyond-the-Wall, my primary duty is to lead everyone toward a shared goal.
Just like now—taking the Wall and raiding the North.
If you all decide to resist to the end, I will stand firmly with the free folk and do my utmost to find us a path to survival."
A short man riding on the back of a giant white bear roared, "Then refuse the agreement! We don't work with the kneelers' queen!"
A large group of wildlings immediately echoed him in a clamor:"Free folk don't work with southern lords!"
Mance had long expected such a reaction.
Ninety-nine percent of the wildlings could only see what was directly in front of them, only feeling pain and fear when a blade pierced their flesh.
At the moment, they still had enough food for a few months. The vast forests provided more than enough firewood. Though the sight of dragons breathing fire was terrifying, no one had actually been burned to death. The wildlings feared the dragons only in theory—they lacked any visceral experience.
As for the White Walkers, while the wildlings did fear them, they had lived alongside the threat for decades. Their nerves that controlled pain and fear had long gone numb.
So, the goodwill and sincerity in the dragon queen's "Agreement" were lost on most of the wildlings.
Mance looked up toward the Wall in the south, as if he could see the silver-haired queen standing on the ice-crystal wall, bathed in the afternoon sunlight, awaiting the final decision.Actually, you should have had your dragons burn down our camp the day before yesterday. That way, there would've been no need for a renamed "Lease Agreement." You could've offered the harshest "Terms of Unconditional Surrender," and we would've accepted them on the spot.
Then he shook his head with a bitter smile.It was because he saw her kindness that his determination to resist had grown so fragile—why he had come to fully trust her civilized ideals and her promise of a "Tripartite Lease Agreement."
He had even decided to persuade the wildlings to surrender to her.
"Ahem... Varamyr, you haven't met the Dragon Queen," Mance said, pausing before pointing at Tormund and the other wildling leaders. "Let's hear what the chiefs have to say. They were all part of the negotiations.
I believe, with their exceptional wisdom and rich experience, they can discern right from wrong."
"Tormund, you go first."
Tormund hesitated for a moment, then said to the surrounding wildlings, "The agreement seems pretty good. We're getting a huge bargain."
The cave-dweller chief agreed:"Think about it—even if we take the North, so what? There's no food there! But if we can really go to the other continent, at least half of our people might survive."
The hardfoot leader frowned and said,"There's just one thing—the terms she offered are too generous. It's like she's surrendering to us. But she has two dragons! That makes me wonder... Is Essos really that prosperous?"
Hmm... the topic slowly shifted—from whether to cooperate, to how to sign the cooperation treaty.
"No need to doubt that. I went to Lys and Pentos when I was young. The lands across the Narrow Sea are vast and sparsely populated, with a warm climate. Definitely a great place," shouted an elderly man wrapped in sealskin, standing beside his white-haired son.
He was the chief of the seafaring tribes along the Frozen Shore, living across from Bear Island of House Mormont. He had once gone to sea with fur traders from across the sea, and was considered a "wise man" among the wildlings.
"Will the people of Essos really let us in as refugees?" the cannibal tribe's leader asked suspiciously.
"The Dragon Queen said she'd make the arrangements," replied the Thenn Magnar nonchalantly. "And besides, she has two dragons, and we have brave warriors who aren't to be trifled with. Who would dare refuse? And if they do—so what?"
"The key lies in shared interests!"
The Thenn Magnar clapped his hands and solemnly concluded:"The treaty is too one-sided—we, the free folk, gain far too much. If one day she realizes how badly she's been swindled and just rides off on her dragons, leaving us drifting in the sea, what then?"
"Snow, what do you think we should do?" Tormund and a few others turned to look at him.
All the Free Folk knew that the Thenns were the closest to southern nobles—they had hereditary lords and laws, understood bronze-smelting techniques, had well-equipped armies, and maintained strict discipline.
Because of this, the leaders of the Free Folk believed that Thenn Snow possessed the most political wisdom.
Hmm, speaking of this Thenn Snow, he actually had a blood feud with Daenerys!
The wildling commander who led the raiding party past the Wall to launch a surprise attack on Castle Black was none other than the most militarily talented Thenn—Magnar Stee, Snow's own elder brother.
When Daenerys descended on her dragon, Stee did not die in the chaos.
But when the queen, relying on her dragon's power, called for surrender, Stee was the first to charge at her with an axe... and, well, he was the unlucky one who got swatted in half by Drogon's tail.
It was only after the captive messenger sent to Mance confirmed Stee's death that Snow managed to rise to power yesterday afternoon, becoming the new Magnar of Thenn.
However, Snow had no intention of avenging his brother against the Dragon Queen. If his brother hadn't died, could he have ascended?
If the Dragon Queen didn't have dragons, perhaps he'd shout a few "Avenge my brother" slogans to win people over. But clearly, she had dragons—and not even the entire tribe could do anything to her. Better to let the matter go. After all, Stee died in battle, not in some conspiracy like the Red Wedding.
Thenn Snow glanced at the King-Beyond-the-Wall and said bluntly, "Mance's task is complete. Perhaps it's time we chose a new king."
(Note: This chapter was first released at 69shu.com)
Tormund flew into a rage. "What did you say? You? Looking like that? Want to be king?"
Mance Rayder's pupils shrank, a cold glint flashing through his eyes for a split second.
"It's not that I want to be king!" Snow quickly waved his hand and explained, "It's the Dragon Queen—by the way, how many titles does Daenerys have?"
A smile crept to the corners of Mance's mouth, and his expression softened again as he thought for a moment and said, "Princess of Dragonstone, Stormborn, the Silver-Haired Queen, Mother of Dragons, Queen of Slaver's Bay, Khaleesi, Dragon Queen… Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men—though she herself denied that one."
Snow's eyes lit up, and he chuckled, "So many titles—why not add one more? 'Queen of the Free Folk South of the Wall.'"
"'Queen of the South?' What's that?" one of the sea folk elders asked in confusion.
"Whether or not we agree to the agreement, all the Free Folk want to leave beyond the Wall. That makes us Free Folk of the South, doesn't it?"
"Uh…"
"Mance is still the King-Beyond-the-Wall. That doesn't change. But once we're south of the Wall, why not invite the Dragon Queen to be our Queen of the Free Folk in the South?"
"How can that be? The Free Folk will never be slaves!" the wildlings shouted.
Varamir Sixskins was particularly furious, his voice sharp: "I don't agree to any agreement—and I will never support a southerner as our ruler!"
"Calm down. We need to compensate the Dragon Queen somehow," Thenn Snow glanced at Varamir smugly and said, "Varamir, we're only heading south to survive the winter. When spring comes, we'll return beyond the Wall. So what does a 'Southern Queen' even matter?"
"This…" Tormund's face twisted in disbelief. "Isn't that a bit too shameless?"
"We're wildlings!" Thenn Snow said, as if it were only natural.
"I won't cooperate with a southern queen. I won't agree to any agreement," Varamir said stubbornly, his neck stiff with defiance.
A group of raiders immediately followed with shouts: "That's right! We're raiders—we don't farm, we don't guard the Wall. We'll pillage the soft folk in the South!"
Tormund glared at them, then turned the spearhead toward Varamir: "Varamir, you're a skinchanger. You've got strong animal companions. You don't worry about food, and you can sense danger before the White Walkers come.
You've got no family, no tribe. If you survive, your whole world survives. But we're not like you.
Walk around the camp. Look at all the elderly, the women, the children. Are we supposed to take away their last chance of survival for some unfounded reason?"
The noisy wildlings quieted down. Some looked lost, others hesitant. Some began thinking seriously about the future of their own tribes.
"Is there really no way to take the Wall?" one of them asked, unwilling to give up.
Mance pointed at Varamir and said, "Among the Free Folk, the strongest is him. He should answer that question."
"I…" Varamir's weathered face turned embarrassed and awkward. "I… I don't know."
"How about this," Mance said after a moment of thought. "Let's do it voluntarily. Those with families can form a large tribe and sign a leasing agreement with the Dragon Queen. Those who believe they can feed themselves and their kin can stay beyond the Wall.
If those who stay beyond the Wall can't endure anymore, they can either seek a new agreement with the Queen, or cross the Wall and live by raiding the North as they see fit."
"You're going to split the Free Folk?" Varamir asked in disbelief.
"We've never been united," Mance said with a bitter smile.
(End of chapter)
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