Thorfinn had originally planned to claim Varamyr's Hall to give his mother and father a safe place to stay. He hadn't expected Reynar and Darie to make the decision they did, rendering the hall useless for the time being. At least, staying near Mance Rayder would be safer for the next few years.
Of course, he thought, there are no weaklings in my family. He should have anticipated his parents' stubbornness.
Over the next few days, the family finally decided to head toward Mance Rayder's encampment. Reynar bartered for supplies during this time. The family slaughtered one sheep for food, and the rest were traded for leather and weapons. He'd traded with a nearby village for these goods, and judging by the bloodstains on Reynar when he returned, the process hadn't been entirely pleasant.
Thorfinn now carried a proper dagger at his hip. The bastard sword hanging on his right side was perfectly balanced by the hand-axe on his left. With his bow and arrows slung across his back, he was fully armed. The others had also done their best to arm themselves. Darie had tied up her hair into a vibrant ponytail, giving her a sharp and heroic look. Morla did the same; her long ponytail and golden armlet didn't diminish her charm, but made her look even more wild and spirited.
However, Thorfinn didn't travel with his family. He had a promise to keep, and he hadn't forgotten that Lyra was waiting for him. After saying goodbye to his family, Thorfinn set off on the road to Lyra's location, heading for that unremarkable, secluded little spot.
The road seemed strangely empty of people. Clearly, everyone was beginning to gather, a sure sign that Mance Rayder was making his move. That King-Beyond-the-Wall has mettle, Thorfinn mused. Mance had been raised by the ravens of the Night's Watch, so he certainly wouldn't lack for savvy or wisdom, making such a large-scale gathering perfectly believable.
With the mighty and imposing Alpha leading the way, no one dared to cross Thorfinn. Any clear-eyed person could tell by Thorfinn's gear that he wasn't someone to mess with. But, as luck would have it, some men just love looking for trouble.
Thorfinn stopped in a choice spot within a small grove. Instead of continuing, he turned, drew his sword, and called out, "Friends in the woods, come out. Whatever business you have, let's settle it now."
No sooner had the words left his mouth than three vicious-looking men came out, chuckling. Two of them held bows and arrows in the back, while the man leading them, with a scarred, meaty face and yellowed teeth, wore a playful smirk. All three were young men, maybe seventeen or eighteen. Behind the leader were a skinny man and a tall man. To be honest, they were all rough-looking—ugly, you could say—but each had a distinct look.
"Friends, what is it you want?" Thorfinn asked.
The meaty-faced leader, who didn't look like an honest man to begin with, laughed mockingly. He turned to the skinny man with the long face and said, "Hear that? The little whelp called me 'friend'! Ha ha ha!"
The other one, a taller man with a round face, sneered, "You don't have any friends here."
Thorfinn remained unfazed. "Not friends? Then you must be enemies."
The only answer he got was the trio's triumphant laughter. What do they have to be so cocky about?Thorfinn wondered.
The meaty-faced young man chuckled. "You have nowhere to run. Even if you're a Skinchanger, that shadowcat won't save you. My mates here are crack shots with a bow. Now, I think it's time we check our haul! Ha ha ha! I want that sword."
The skinny man eagerly chimed in, "I want his hand-axe."
The tall one, sealing his own doom, added, "The shadowcat's pelt belongs to me."
Thorfinn couldn't help but laugh, a cold, harsh sound. "What makes you think I have nowhere to run? And… why would I run? You are the prey, you gutless trash."
Thorfinn didn't retreat; he advanced in a blur of speed, as quick and graceful as a rabbit. His sword was aimed at the leader's gut. The skinny man released an arrow, but Thorfinn used his powerful mind to track it. In a split second, he caught the incoming arrow with his left hand.
The meaty-faced man reacted a moment too late but still managed to block Thorfinn's thrust with his crude short-blade. The man was clearly shaken, with fine beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead.
Failing to land the first blow, Thorfinn didn't hesitate. He used his left hand to plunge the arrow he caught into the man's ribs.
Just then, the tall man shot an arrow. Thorfinn wasn't flustered; instead, he flashed a wicked grin. He quickly shoved the meaty-faced man, making him take the brunt of the fast-flying arrow. The poor wretch, having taken two arrows, collapsed to the ground and began cursing the tall man. "Are you an idiot? Shoot me? You bastard…"
In a flash of action, Thorfinn never stopped moving. He dashed toward the skinny man. Since the distance was already short, the skinny man's face twisted in a complex mix of panic and ferocity. He tried to nock another arrow, but his nerves made him fumble the shot.
Five steps, three steps, two steps. Thorfinn's right-hand sword suddenly swung out, slicing through the bow that the skinny man had raised to his chin. The arrow tumbled uselessly to the ground. Thorfinn put wind in his heels and delivered a kick that sent the man sprawling. At the same time, Thorfinn's left hand had gripped the handle of his hand-axe. He hurled the axe toward the tall man. In his haste, the tall man reacted quickly enough to loose another arrow, but Thorfinn slightly sidestepped it, letting it sail past.
With a dull grunt, the tall man was struck. A flower of blood bloomed as the hand-axe sank into his chest. The tall man immediately fell, his continuous retching of blood indicating a probable lung wound.
At this point, the three men were effectively incapacitated. Thorfinn's actions were precise and brutal. Though young, his methods were ruthless, but the result was spectacular. At the very least, those on the ground were the ones with the real problems now.
Of the three, the skinny man was the luckiest. Yet, he could only stare wide-eyed and disbelieving at the unfolding scene. Is this child a demon? The sheer terror of death froze the skinny man, making him afraid to move and provoke the young boy. The meaty-faced man, meanwhile, was painfully grinding his teeth as he struggled to prop himself up on one knee. His gaze upon Thorfinn was now filled with terror and grim respect.
"Who… who are you?" the meaty-faced man stammered.
Thorfinn took in the pitiful state of the three men. He walked slowly toward the meaty-faced man, his sword raised. He rested the blade on the man's shoulder, the point hovering near his throat. The icy cold of the steel sent a jolt through the man. His will to live flared, and he begged, "Don't kill me, please."
Thorfinn's eyes remained frigid, a coldness that chilled the man to the bone. This indifference made the man despair and close his eyes. Just then, a shing sound rang out as Thorfinn sheathed his sword.
"Are you convinced now?"
The man paused, then cried out in joy, "Y-yes… I am convinced."
Thorfinn wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Honestly, this happens wherever I go. If you have no skill and aren't even an overwhelming group, why bother with this kind of reckless thievery?" Speaking, Thorfinn walked toward the most gravely injured tall man. As he passed the skinny man, he told him to go help his boss. The skinny man seemed to snap awake and scrambled over to help the kneeling man up.
Thorfinn squatted in front of the tall man. Looking at the injury, he realized the situation was dire. It looked like a lung wound. The man's flushed, purplish face clearly showed his difficulty breathing. The meaty-faced man and the skinny one came closer, but kept their distance, obviously terrified.
Seeing the tall man's wound, both of their faces fell. It looked like he wouldn't make it.
But Thorfinn didn't give up. He roughly pulled the axe out of the man's chest cavity. After wiping it haphazardly, he clipped it back onto his belt. Pulling out the axe actually seemed to ease the breathing of the tall man, whose face was no longer quite as red. Thorfinn placed a hand over the wound and initiated the blood healing magic. An invisible power worked on the injury. The blood that had poured out of the tall man slowly began to flow back. The wound began to heal, slowly shrinking from a palm-sized gash to a mere finger-width. Finally, all that remained was a jagged scar covered by a dried scab.
Witnessing this seemingly divine miracle, all three men were stunned. They stared in disbelief. Thorfinn didn't mind. He slowly stood up as if he had performed a minor chore. But the three men around him clearly did not see it that way. Their eyes began to fill with fanatical reverence. In their minds, anyone who could perform such a miracle must be an emissary of the Old Gods.
Thorfinn noticed their reaction but did nothing to discourage the idea. After all, it was high time he tried out the 'playing-god' routine. People in this age believed in spirits and deities, and the harsh truth of the Others returning proved the objective existence of magic and the arcane. The most crucial part now was the publicity.
The tall man was in a daze. If not for the scar still visible on his chest, he would have believed the whole thing was a dream. In his world, this was too absurd, but the evidence before his eyes forced him to believe it.
The tall man spoke. "Who are you?"
Thorfinn smiled and turned. "I am a Magic Apprentice, a Skinchanger, a God-Touched, and an Emissary of the Old Gods. I am also a member of the Free Folk Beyond the Wall." Reciting a long string of titles like that was sure to shock them. Without the miracle as a lead-up, saying those words would likely have earned him a laugh. But in this moment, those titles carried a serious weight.
Seeing the three men look at him as if he were a god, Thorfinn felt satisfied. He walked up to the meaty-faced man and said, "Pull the arrows out. I'll heal you, too."
The meaty-faced man grit his teeth and, with a quick pull, yanked both arrows out. Thorfinn immediately cast his blood healing magic, so the man didn't lose much blood. The wound slowly healed and scabbed over just the same. The men watched, mesmerized, not wanting to miss a single second.
Thorfinn dropped his hands and clapped them together. "You two have no grave wounds, but you're still a bit weak from blood loss. Avoid any strenuous activity for a while, and eat plenty of nourishing food."
The three men nodded woodenly. Leaving them to babble excitedly amongst themselves, Thorfinn continued on his way.
Just as Thorfinn was about to disappear from view, the three men slowly started to follow him. Thorfinn stopped, confused. He waited for them to catch up before asking, "Why are you still following me?"
The man who had been the leader stepped forward. "My Lord, the three of us grew up scrounging for food in the nearby villages. We've been inseparable since we were kids, with no family or attachments. We might never meet a person like you again. We hope you will let us tag along. From now on, you are our boss."
Thorfinn was a little taken aback. This man was surprisingly sharp, though a bit shortsighted. No matter, Thorfinn thought, he'll get wiser following me. But do I really need men? Yes, he did. Even if it wasn't for seizing power, having more trusted people around him would always be safer. Seeing the hopeful looks on the three men's faces, Thorfinn made up his mind.
After considering it for a moment, Thorfinn said, "Alright, then. Remember, your boss's name is Thorfinn."
The three men's faces broke into smiles of pure delight. The meaty-faced man was the first to speak. "Boss Thorfinn, my name is Jorr." The long-faced skinny man quickly followed. "Boss, I'm Myrn." Finally, the round-faced tall man excitedly said, "Boss Thorfinn, I'm Mael."
Seeing them all trying hard to please him, Thorfinn's face broke into a warm smile. "Do you have anything you need to collect? If you follow me, you might not have a chance to go home for a long time."
Jorr gave a bitter laugh. "We don't have a home. If not for the villages that have recently been abandoned, we would still be sleeping rough. Men like us are nobodies."
Mael also laughed. "Nothing to collect. Everything we own is on our backs."
Thorfinn could tell they'd been living hard. Their sallow, thin faces proved it. Myrn, the skinny one, barely had any meat on his bones. This damned winter and the harshness of the lands Beyond the Wall were turning men into shadows. The survivors, the 'cream of the crop,' looked more like ghosts than people.
Thorfinn gave a signal to the shadowcat that was ahead of them. Alpha understood instantly. The shadowcat, who had just enjoyed a free show, yawned and lazily sauntered into the woods to hunt. As the big boss's right-hand animal companion, it wouldn't do to let his new, older crew go hungry. Their first meal with their new boss had to be a feast.
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