These soldiers had clearly lost all faith in Stannis. Lynn saw an opportunity.
Right now his only real fighting strength was a few thousand Free Folk. That was nowhere near enough to conquer the South.
As for Jon Stark—the man was a lord in name only. How many northern houses would actually answer his call was still a big question mark.
After all, Robb Stark had already declared himself King in the North. Jon was just a Warden of the North crowned by a "wildling king." The comparison didn't exactly inspire confidence.
So when the chance to recruit professional soldiers appeared, Lynn wasn't about to let it pass.
He rode a few steps forward and spoke loudly.
"I am the Guardian of All Living Beings in Westeros, the Son of the Stars, the Bearer of Lightbringer who stands against the Long Night, and the sole ruler of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men—King Lynn the First of House Morningstar."
"Swear your loyalty to me and fight in my name. I will pardon all crimes you committed before today."
Lynn paused, then added, "Only the ringleaders will be punished. Followers are forgiven."
When he finished, the surrendered soldiers looked exactly as he expected—confused.
They were used to hearing "King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm." This new style of royal title left them uncertain.
But the giant-riders thundering past and the dragon that never left the king's side made the decision for them.
"This is exactly what we want, Your Grace."
The oldest soldier spoke for all of them.
"You said 'ringleaders,' Your Grace. Does that mean the ones who gave the orders?
If so, they're all gone. They took the Night's Watch ships and sailed off—probably heading to the North to raise more men."
Lynn nodded.
"They will be punished. Ordering the slaughter of women and children is unacceptable."
"Right now I need you to take a few men and ride north along the coast. Gather every survivor willing to swear to me and bring them to Eastwatch."
"Tell them the new king will conquer all of Westeros from north to south, then unite every living soul to fight the Others and their army of the dead."
The soldiers had all survived the nightmare attack by wights. They exchanged glances, then nodded.
The old soldier's name was Derrick. He had been a Florent mercenary—Queen Selyse's family. He had followed Stannis at the Blackwater and watched hundreds of men left behind on the shore while the Lysene ships only took those wearing the bright red-and-gold fox with the turquoise flowers.
Now he had been abandoned again, this time in the frozen wastes north of the Wall.
The repeated betrayals had finally broken whatever loyalty he still felt toward House Baratheon or House Florent.
Lynn gave them food, then sent Derrick and his men north on fresh horses to recruit more of Stannis's scattered troops.
The rest of the column kept moving and finally reached Eastwatch before dark.
Eastwatch was the easternmost castle on the Wall, perched on the edge of the Bay of Seals where the wind never stopped howling.
Strictly speaking, it wasn't really a fortress at all—more like a medium-sized harbor with a hall and a few towers attached.
Here the Wall reached its eastern end. On both sides of the massive ice barrier stretched V-shaped beaches.
Standing on the northern beach, Lynn could clearly see the docks of Eastwatch packed with ships. Even more vessels lay at anchor farther out because there weren't enough berths.
Night was falling, but that was fine—they could use the rising tide to move the mammoths.
Mag blew the massive, unpleasant horn. Moments later several large flat-bottomed boats that had clearly been waiting pushed off from the far shore.
Flat-bottomed ships drew very little water. They could enter rivers, shallows, and muddy channels, and could even beach themselves at low tide.
Their wide hulls made them stable and hard to capsize, and the flat cargo decks gave them huge carrying capacity—perfect for supplies or livestock.
Their main drawbacks were high drag and slow speed, plus poor performance in heavy seas because they lacked a proper keel. They were coastal vessels only.
More than half of Stannis's horses had been carried on these very boats. Now they were ideal for moving woolly mammoths.
The flat-bottomed ships stopped a few dozen yards offshore. Their huge wooden cargo doors slammed down into the water, sending spray all the way to Lynn's boots.
Several small boats were lowered. Lynn noticed that the man leading them wasn't just Tormund—there was also an extremely well-dressed old man.
The old man had classic Valyrian features: pale skin and fine white curls thinned by age. He was lean, dressed in a bright silver-threaded coat with sleeves that dragged on the ground. The buttons were carved jade monkeys, and he wore a fancy hat decorated with peacock feathers.
When the small boat grounded on the beach, the old man hopped out nimbly and walked straight to Lynn before dropping to one knee.
"Most noble King, Your Grace, your prisoner—the poor captain from Lys, Salladhor Saan—offers you his most sincere greetings. May your kingdom endure forever and grow ever stronger."
Before Lynn could answer, Tormund's booming voice cut in.
"Don't believe a word this old liar says, Son of the Stars! When we first met he was calling himself 'Prince of the Narrow Sea' and 'Lord of Blackwater Bay'!"
Tormund waded ashore, cursing and splashing seawater everywhere, not caring that it soaked his boots.
"Ha! Mance sent word that you're king now. He told me to follow your orders, no questions."
He shook water off his fur boots and asked seriously,
"So you really rode a fire-breathing dragon and burned hundreds of the king's men? Those shiny iron knights?"
Lynn smiled.
"You could say that. Just not quite that many."
Tormund complained,
"Does that mean I have to kneel to you from now on? Did Mance kneel?"
"He did not."
Lynn teased,
"If you're willing to kneel, I might even make you an earl—lands, castle, servants, the whole thing."
Tormund looked tempted for a second, but then shook his head.
"Can't do it. I'm Tormund Giantsbane, Mead-King of the Red Hall. Kneeling would make people laugh at me."
"Since you won't kneel, step aside. I'd like to speak with someone who will."
Lynn pushed the talkative Tormund out of the way so he could face the pirate captain properly.
"Rise, Captain Saan. I hear you've been serving Stannis?"