Despite the many grudges among the Free Folk, nearly all of them attended Mance's feast. Only a small handful missed it due to other pressing matters. They all knew they had to be among the first to hear useful news. Thorfinn was the key; the previous intelligence he'd brought had proven invaluable.
Though Thorfinn had never actively sought the spotlight, he had helped the Free Folk avoid countless losses. After enduring the first bloody days of sacrifice, the Free Folk deeply understood the value of intelligence, and so their attention was sharpened.
Mance intended to raise Thorfinn's standing, a fact made clear by the seating arrangement at the feast. Mance sat at the main seat; to his right was Tormund Giantsbane, and the honored spot to his left was left open for Thorfinn. A few voices of complaint were raised, but they were quickly silenced by the authority of Mance and the approval of Tormund and others close to Thorfinn.
Interestingly, Rattleshirt also helped put down the dissent. Even though their relationship was distant, the warrior held a measure of favor for Thorfinn. Most of the others did not know Thorfinn well; they were skeptical of the reputation of this young man, even after he brought in an Ice Spider. Thus, Thorfinn's conduct tonight would be crucial.
Thorfinn's father, Reynar, was also invited, seated beside Merek. In recent times, Reynar had become well-known again, having earned the nickname "The War Bear" through popular acclaim.
The reason? After Thorfinn left, his father was in a foul mood. The increasingly short-tempered Reynar began looking for fights to vent his anger. Whether it was a single combat, a brawl, a weapon-fight, or fisticuffs, he was always ready. The Free Folk believe in settling things with fists, and The War Bear's title was truly earned through sweat and blood. Perhaps the custom of "a fight can be the start of a friendship" holds true everywhere; the camaraderie between men is a strange thing. Reynar had actually made many friends this way.
Inside the tent, there was no restraint. The air was thick with loud noises: shouts, arguments, laughter, and cursing, each rising higher than the last. Conflicts between the various tribes still existed, but Reynar's constant challenges had somehow created a strange new harmony among the factions. This change baffled even Mance.
This situation was what might be called a natural dynamic. The smaller groups Mance had managed to unite tended to keep to themselves, but Reynar's actions had broken that barrier. Much like stirring a stagnant pool, Reynar had unintentionally introduced a level of competition into Mance Rayder's "company," acting as a catalyst that sparked greater potential and helped dismantle the walls between people.
Though this feast was intended to welcome Thorfinn and Merek home, the protagonists were the last to arrive.
As they lifted the tent flap, the scent of ale and roasted meat wafted out, and the boisterous crowd quieted. Seeing Thorfinn and Merek, Mance was the first to raise his cup. "Let us welcome our warriors! They have accomplished what the Free Folk have always dreamed of doing, but never dared!"
Tormund Giantsbane roared with hearty laughter. "To Thorfinn! To Merek!"
Harle the Huntsman smiled. "To Thorfinn! To Merek! Our young heroes! Ha ha!"
The others raised their cups. Reynar was the sole exception, but no one faulted the father. Reynar's heart swelled with pride as he looked at his celebrated sons. No one was prouder than he was. To have fathered such exceptional sons made him a greater man than many others. Even Tormund, who had four sons and a daughter, was green with envy; his children were nowhere near as accomplished as Thorfinn and his kin.
The two heroes smiled as they walked through the crowd to their seats. Once settled, Thorfinn spoke. "All of you here are our elders. This cup should be raised by us to you. Merek and I will drink first, to your health. Please—" He raised his cup and drained the ale. Merek did the same.
These humble words instantly won the good graces of the assembly. They weren't fools; they knew these words were meant to elevate them. But flattery works on everyone, and men always love to hear praise. Thorfinn's show of respect was deeply appreciated.
Truth be told, these stubborn wildlings were like mules who responded to a soft hand. Most who grew up in this "simple and honest" environment were men who responded to kindness, not coercion. To deal with them, you had to treat them with honor.
Rattleshirt scoffed, "Don't talk like that, Thorfinn. We don't have the guts to go to that cursed Land of Always Winter. It's freezing cold, and now it's crawling with the Others. If it were me, I wouldn't have made it back alive. You'd be looking at a blue-eyed Rattleshirt, ha ha ha!"
Rattleshirt's words instantly sobered the crowd. They looked at the young man before them with a newfound, subtle awe. Thorfinn's boldness and courage made it impossible to dismiss him. At least until he spoke of his findings, no one wanted to risk his ill will.
Thorfinn glanced across the room: Tormund Giantsbane, Reynar the War Bear, Harle the Huntsman, Morna the White Mask, Rattleshirt, Gerrick Kingsblood—who was proud of his royal heritage—Haude the Wanderer, always seeking his own path, and the renowned Ygon Oldfather... Many people were present, and while they all knew Thorfinn, he could not name them all.
Hearing Rattleshirt's jest, Merek laughed. "We were just lucky."
Tormund disagreed. "Luck is a skill, too! I haven't seen any lucky man manage to go deep into the Land of Always Winter and come back whole!"
Reynar guffawed. "What do you expect? Look whose sons they are, ha ha ha! Envious, aren't you, you lot?"
At this, Ygon Oldfather huffed angrily. "Are you looking for a fight, Reynar? You stinking bear, you're insufferable! Do you have to keep bringing it up just because your son is exceptional?"
This comment struck a nerve with Ygon. He had many followers, mostly his children and grandchildren. He had eighteen wives, half of them stolen in raids, but none of his sons were half as accomplished as Thorfinn and Merek. It was understandable; Reynar's two sons and his foster children were all Skinchangers, and he had a soon-to-be daughter-in-law who was a forest witch. Who wouldn't be envious?
Mance listened to the bickering and felt the cheerful atmosphere. He stepped aside, picked up his harp, and began to play. A soulful song rose, adding color and depth to the joyous feast.
Mance carried no airs of a King-Beyond-the-Wall, even now that he had earned the respect of most of the people. Mance knew he wasn't as powerful as he seemed; people followed him only because the Free Folk needed a leader, and he happened to be both brave and clever. This self-awareness was perhaps one of the reasons he was able to become the King-Beyond-the-Wall.
Cups were raised and emptied. Everyone enjoyed the ale that only a privileged few of the Free Folk were entitled to drink. Drinking and eating meat, they were utterly carefree. They cast aside their worries and sorrows, fully enjoying the moment. Tormund shamelessly told bawdy jokes, drawing roars of laughter. Mance played and sang, completely lost in the music, shedding a few emotional tears at times.
The lively mood infected even the more reserved chiefs, who began to engage in drinking contests. The joy of the feast was loud and boisterous, with rising and sitting, back and forth.
The Free Folk were simple of mind, without endless schemes and treachery. Though some were bad men, their malice was not born of spite but of survival and procreation, which was perhaps a rare thing.
They boasted and drank, bickering and laughing, enjoying themselves immensely. This feast changed Thorfinn's rigid view of the Free Folk. These people had a charming side. At least with these freedom-loving folk, he didn't have to worry about a knife in the back.
Thorfinn was drunk and happy. Half-in and half-out of his senses, the dizzy Thorfinn began to boast like the older wildlings, finally integrating himself into the crowd.
Any hidden or open conflict was forgotten; one must enjoy life while they can. Thorfinn now carried an air of wild abandon, casting off all restraint. With a mind emptied of worry, he felt utterly free.
Merek watched this Thorfinn and could not help but stare.
Thorfinn noticed Merek's gaze. "What is it?" he asked, puzzled.
Merek smiled. "Nothing. I've just never seen this side of you."
Thorfinn's face was flushed red as he smiled, throwing a light, slightly tipsy arm around Merek's shoulder. With a wistful sigh, he said, "There's much you haven't seen. Man is born a beast. Killing, cruelty, wisdom—I lack none of it. I strive to be exceptional only because I desire true freedom."
Merek did not understand. "Are you not free now?" he countered.
Thorfinn laughed, a laugh that nearly brought tears to his eyes. After a long peal of laughter, Thorfinn said, "Am I free? Are the Free Folk free? Is freedom without order true freedom? I think not! One day, I shall live a life more carefree and joyful than any other, a life more liberated than any other. No gods, no monsters, no overwhelming power—if they dare to cross me, I will tread them all underfoot. That is the freedom I crave."
Merek: "..."
In vino veritas? Merek wondered. Was this his true ambition, revealed by the ale? Looking at the half-drunk, half-awake Thorfinn, he finally understood the aspirations of his brother. Merek had previously felt that Thorfinn was not a true Free Folk, but now he realized he was wrong. Thorfinn's understanding of freedom was far deeper than his own. The freedom of the soul—perhaps that was the only true freedom.
Unknowingly, the joyful and unrestrained mood infected almost everyone. Thorfinn, possessing powerful mental strength, could easily influence the emotions of others, and this influence was amplified by his drunkenness. He himself might not have realized it. Emotions are contagious, and a sorcerer's emotions are often more intense than those of ordinary men. Thorfinn, with his naturally strong spirit, was especially so.
Thorfinn had thoroughly enjoyed the gathering. In the latter half of the feast, the conversation finally turned to the one thing everyone truly cared about: the Others.
Mance was the first to speak. "Thorfinn, now that you've eaten and drunk your fill, it's time to speak of serious matters."
Thorfinn remembered his duty. He shook his slightly dizzy head to clear it and began to recount the findings of his exploration.
Under the burning gaze of everyone present, Thorfinn spoke in a level tone. "Even though Mance gave the order to burn the dead, the vast lands Beyond the Wall cannot enforce it everywhere. The dead are still gathering in the north. The size of this host is likely in the tens of thousands, and that number can only grow."
This news hit them like a physical blow, their drunkenness instantly gone. Everyone began to curse, some even shouting obscenities, followed by a chorus of wails and despair.
"That number includes both the dead men and the dead animals—wolves, deer, bears, and others are also turned into Wights by the Others. Fortunately, no one is collecting the corpses of these beasts, so they only make up a fraction of the total Wight host."
"There is another discovery, one directly concerning the Others. Someone is aiding the Others... Those wildlings who worship the Cold God are choosing to sacrifice their children to the Others in exchange for protection. Living infants are carried to the Land of Always Winter, placed on altars, and transformed into young Others by dark magic, increasing their numbers... I witnessed this process myself through sorcery."
Tormund slammed his fist on the table. "I told you we should kill those wretches! Mance, you wouldn't listen! Listen to Thorfinn! They are aiding the enemy!" Tormund's words resonated with the chiefs. They all started to grumble about these worshippers of the Cold God. Another bout of noise erupted.
Mance pounded his hand down. "Enough! Silence! We must first eliminate this practice of sacrifice among our own people. We will investigate everyone who has come here. The other matter can wait. Some of those cultists are closely connected to the Night's Watch. We cannot afford to provoke the Night's Watch now. We cannot be gathering the Free Folk while fighting the Night's Watch, especially with the Others watching with hungry eyes..."
Once the crowd had calmed, Thorfinn continued. "The Others have also tamed some Ice Spiders. Some are only the size of a hound, others are as huge as my Popsicle. The exact numbers are unknown. There are at least thirty Others, perhaps many more. The situation is dire, and I didn't have the chance to look closely.
"The Others have their own lords. They are a race with intelligence, and a leader commands them. The previous attacks and massacres of Free Folk villages were not random encounters; they were pre-meditated slaughter. They are intentionally stockpiling Wights—in other words, they are raising an army...
"I believe there are two reasons why the Others have not launched a full assault on humankind. First, the barrier of the Wall. Seven hundred feet of ice, eight hundred miles long. The great barrier built by Brandon the Builder is not as simple as it looks. Second, they need enough magic to sustain their sorcery. The Others have costs, and even they need time to build up the power necessary to launch a war.
"If the Free Folk continue to hide and scratch out a living in the North, they only have a few more years of peace. After that, the war between men and the Others will break out in full force..."
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