The space inside the tent was far larger than it appeared from the outside.
Heavy animal hides blocked out the wind and snow.
A massive brazier burned brightly in the center, dispelling all the chill.
The air was thick with a pungent smell—a mixture of the charred scent of roasting meat, the sourness of cheap ale, and the raw, musky odor of sweat.
Thick furs of unknown beasts covered the ground.
Over a dozen wildlings, dressed in various styles and appearing to be clan leaders, sat around the brazier, laughing loudly. The atmosphere was boisterous and rough.
A man with a wildly bushy red beard, burly beyond reason, was chugging ale from a gigantic horn cup.
He was Tormund Giantsbane.
And at the head of the gathering sat a man with an even more imposing presence.
He was taller, wearing crude armor made of bone and black iron, sitting upright.
He looked like the undisputed king of this lot.
However, Lynn's gaze didn't linger on him.
Instead, he looked toward a corner where a man was playing a lute.
The man wore ordinary black leather armor. His appearance was plain, unremarkable.
He kept his head down, fingers plucking the strings.
The melody carried a hint of Southern melancholy, utterly out of place in this environment.
The singing stopped.
Everyone's eyes landed on Lynn, Jon, and Ygritte as they walked in.
The noisy tent fell instantly silent.
More than a dozen gazes filled with scrutiny and hostility fixed upon them.
"Ygritte!"
The red-bearded giant holding the horn cup stood up.
His eyes swept over Lynn and Jon, and he grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellowed teeth.
"You little lass, did you actually catch some crows and bring them back?"
"I thought you were captured by the big crows to breed little crows!"
His words elicited a roar of laughter.
Ygritte's face flushed red, and she gripped her bow tightly.
"Tormund! Show some respect! They are my guests!"
"Guests?"
Tormund laughed even louder.
He pointed at Lynn and Jon.
"Since when did we become friends with crows?"
"They aren't fit to be guests, only targets!"
"Shut up, Tormund."
A calm voice rang out.
It wasn't the majestic "King" at the head of the table, but the man playing the lute in the corner.
He set down his instrument, stood up, and walked to the brazier.
He wasn't tall, nor particularly burly.
But when he stepped forward, the gazes of every wildling in the tent naturally converged on him.
He was the true King of this Free Folk.
Mance Rayder.
"I heard from the captured Night's Watchmen that your reputation at Castle Black is quite high."
Mance Rayder studied Lynn. His eyes were bright, carrying a wisdom that could see through people.
"Speak. Why have you come?"
Lynn was concise.
"Cooperation."
Mance Rayder paused, clearly not expecting this word from Lynn.
"You were willing to cross the Haunted Forest on foot to personally see a traitor like me."
"That proves your sincerity."
"But sincerity alone won't make my hundred thousand people lay down their weapons."
Lynn got straight to the point.
"We all know the true enemy isn't each other."
"Winter is coming. The dead are moving. We don't have time to fight amongst ourselves."
"Well said!" Tormund slapped his thigh.
"So you crows should open the gates and let us pass!"
"Tormund!" Mance scolded.
He looked at Lynn and shook his head.
"You see, that is the problem."
"We want to live. You want to keep us behind the Wall."
"This is a conflict that hasn't been resolved for thousands of years."
"He is different!"
Ygritte suddenly spoke up loudly.
Everyone looked at her.
"He isn't an ordinary crow!"
Ygritte's chest heaved. Looking into Mance's eyes, she spoke word by word.
"I heard the Night's Watch say he can predict the future!"
"He knows the weaknesses of those dead things!"
"The Old Gods... yes... even the Old Gods are guiding him!"
She dared not mention the Night King or the Three-Eyed Raven, so she used vague terms.
"Most importantly."
A fervor she didn't even notice crept into her voice.
"He has a dragon!"
"A giant dragon that breathes fire and ice, that can knock down houses!"
"He could have flown here on his dragon and burned us all to ash!"
"But he didn't!"
"He chose to walk here on his own two feet, just like us!"
"I believe him! He is a good man!"
"A good man?"
Tormund looked like he'd heard the funniest joke in the world.
"Ygritte, did this pretty boy fuck you stupid?"
"A good man among crows?"
"I thought you were the smartest of the Free Folk."
"Turns out you're dumber than me."
Jon Snow's face turned ugly, his hand gripping his sword hilt.
"I said! He is different!"
Ygritte was so anxious she was on the verge of tears.
"Enough. Let me handle this."
Lynn placed a hand on Ygritte's shoulder, pulling her behind him.
He looked at Mance Rayder calmly.
"I am not here to beg you."
"I am here to give you a choice."
"A choice to survive."
"I can make the North accept you."
"Ned Stark and I have a good relationship. This is Jon Snow, Ned's bastard son; he can prove what I say is true."
"I promise here and now: I can give you land, give you food. Your women and children won't have to endure hunger and cold anymore."
"You won't have to fight endlessly with the Night's Watch."
"You only need to do one thing."
"I want you to be willing to take up arms, fight alongside us, and fight for the living."
"Hah!"
Tormund sneered.
"Sounds even prettier than Mance's songs!"
"Let us lay down our weapons, walk into your cages, and wait to be slaughtered like sheep?"
"We Free Folk never kneel to Southerners!"
"Including your bullshit King!"
"We do not kneel!"
The wildling chieftains in the tent roared in unison.
The sound wave almost lifted the roof of the tent.
"Who said anything about kneeling?"
Lynn countered.
His voice cut through the roaring crowd.
"I said, we fight side by side. As allies."
"Not one side as slaves to the other!"
"Of course, you can choose to refuse."
Lynn's gaze swept over everyone present.
"You can take your people and charge that seven-hundred-foot wall of ice."
"Use the corpses of your kin to fill the hatred between us."
"And then?"
"Even if you luckily breach the Wall, what will you gain?"
"An empty North?"
"Or the armies and people of the Seven Kingdoms turned into an army of the dead by the White Walkers?"
"By then, you will face endless wights, and the Night King."
Lynn's words gradually replaced the wildlings' anger with gravity.
Mance Rayder's eyes changed too.
He had always thought those things were mindless monsters.
A King?
A more powerful dead man?
The one who took the babies?
This crow seemed to know far more than Mance had imagined.
"You are right."
Mance finally spoke, giving Lynn a deep look.
"I believe you."
"I have seen the dead with my own eyes."
"I believe you truly want to cooperate with us."
"But..."
His tone shifted.
"My people won't believe you."
"They only believe what they see."
"They won't believe a crow's promise, even if you really ride a dragon."
"Unless..."
Mance glanced at the surrounding clan leaders.
"You can prove you are one of us."
"How do you want me to prove it?" Lynn asked.
"Simple."
Before Mance could answer, Tormund cut in.
His broad face wore a provocative grin.
"The Northern way!"
"We Free Folk beyond the Wall never trust sweet words."
"We only trust fists!"
He slammed the horn cup onto the ground and pointed at Lynn's nose.
"A fight!"
"You! And me!"
"Right here!"
"If you can survive me, I'll be the first to acknowledge you as an ally!"
"If you lose..."
Tormund grinned, baring his yellow teeth.
"Then I'll keep your pretty head as my new wine cup!"
The atmosphere in the tent dropped to freezing point instantly.
Jon Snow's heart leaped into his throat.
Tormund Giantsbane.
This guy's ferocity was famous throughout the lands beyond the Wall!
Many Night's Watch brothers had died by his hands!
Jon knew Lynn was a master swordsman.
But bare-handed against Tormund? The odds were slim!
Just when everyone thought Lynn would refuse such an unreasonable demand.
Lynn smiled.
"Just survive?"
"You look down on me too much."
Lynn took off his heavy bear-fur cloak and tossed it to Ygritte behind him.
Rolling his wrists, he walked toward Tormund.
A cold flame ignited in his pitch-black eyes.
"What if I win?"
"If you can beat me?"
Tormund slapped his chest, making a dull thudding sound.
"If you can beat me, from this day forth, I, Tormund, am at your command!"
"You say go east, I go east! If I go back on my word, I'm your pet dog!"
"Good."
Lynn liked straightforward people.
He strode right up to Tormund.
"Come on then. Let me see just how hard the Giantsbane's fists really are."
Tormund assumed an attack stance.
The moment the words fell, Lynn's gaze suddenly turned sharp!
He didn't retreat. Instead, he lunged forward a step and punched Tormund squarely in the chest!
Although his unarmed combat skill was only at "Mastery" level, his immense Strength attribute was enough to compensate for everything!
Tormund didn't even react!
He only felt an indescribable, massive force slam viciously into his chest!
Bang—!
A profoundly dull thud!
Tormund's massive frame was knocked clean off its feet, flying backward!
His huge body crashed into two wildling chieftains, knocking them over, before slamming heavily into the tent's main support pole.
The entire tent shook violently.
"Cough... fuck... someone help me up..."
Tormund's weak voice drifted out.
Dead silence filled the room.
All the wildlings stared dumbfounded at the scene, their minds blank.
No one even moved to help Tormund, who was lying there like a corpse.
Tormund...
Was one-shotted?