CHAPTER 7

Jon Pov,

As the great keep of Winterfell slowly faded in the horizon, once again I had a notification.

[Chronicle Begins]

I tried to touch it both physically and mentally but nothing happened nor could I understand what it was, but once again I was barged with further messages.

[Safe Zone purpose fulfilled]

[Safe Zone expired]

[Integration Completed]

[Compensating ...,]

[Bond with Ghost completed]

Once again, I felt relieved all over my body and it felt like I had a complete memory of Jon from the day he was born till the day he died at the hands of my transmigration.

It was not like my memory and his was combined but more like I have watched an entire movie of his life. I could now feel the emotions of Ghost similar to a telepathic link and how far he was from me.

I don't understand what chronicle begins means, is it because the plot is starting or something else, I could only guess.

The safe zone must be Winterfell then, the integration should be memories as for compensation I don't know what I'm getting compensated for.

It had been three days since we left Winterfell and still, we were no close to the wall. This has quickly proved to be one of my longest travels in my life.

I started to understand the true benefit of integration on the way, slowly but surely everything started to feel familiar like it was a normal routine and the cold wind started to bother me less.

It was evident to me by the fact that when I started to eat some squirrel stew, boar meat and many others, it didn't bother me that much, it was more like eating a regular food, that fact is I was not even repulsed by eating it.

When the party decided to camp for the night,

"The Wolfswood," Benjen Stark called it, and indeed their nights came alive with the howls of distant packs, and some not so distant. Ghost pricked up his ears at the nightly howling, but never raised his own voice in reply. I'm starting to believe he is an introverted type wolf.

There were eight in the party by then, not counting the wolf. Tyrion traveled with two of his own men, as befit a Lannister. Benjen Stark had some fresh mounts for the Night's Watch, but at the edge of the Wolfswood they stayed a night behind the wooden walls of a forest holdfast, and there joined up with another of the black brothers, one Yoren.

Yoren was stooped and sinister, his features hidden behind a beard as black as his clothing, but he seemed as tough as an old root and as hard as stone. With him were a pair of ragged peasant boys from the Fingers.

"Rapers," Yoren said with a cold look at his charges.

Five men, four boys, a direwolf, twenty horses, and a cage of ravens given over to Benjen Stark by Maester Luwin. No doubt they made a curious fellowship for the kingsroad, or any road.

Yoren had a twisted shoulder and a sour smell, his hair and beard were matted and greasy and full of lice, his clothing old, patched, and seldom washed. His two young recruits smelled even worse.

We continued our journey forward and a week passed on the roads.

It was cold up here, and growing colder. The nights were well below freezing now, and when the wind blew it was like a knife cutting right through the warmest woolens I wore.

Farms and holdfasts grew scarcer and smaller as they pressed northward, ever deeper into the darkness of the Wolfswood, until finally there were no more roofs to shelter under, and they were thrown back on their own resources.

It was the eighteenth day of our journey and nothing significant happened, which was a huge problem for me. I was hoping for some kind of bandits to attack us, so that I could get my shadow army but there was nothing.

Tyrion read some books along the way but it never interested me, not here nor in my older life too, as it was the usual boring history which you will never need in your life and trust me, I still don't use much of the knowledge I learned.

The man-made shelters had been thrown up against the tumbledown wall of a long-abandoned holdfast, a shield against the wind. The horses had been fed and a fire had been laid. Yoren sat on a stone, skinning a squirrel. I particularly didn't like the smell of the stew but it didn't bother me that much if you eat it with pepper. It did surprise me to find pepper as I was under the assumption that the spices were a rare commodity in medieval areas.

There were no traces of bandits along the way.

After another week of travelling, we finally arrived at Castle Black.

It didn't look that much of a castle, it was like a slightly elongated house with a big front porch. The wall was big but still, I have seen taller buildings.

Benjen came closer to the horse I was riding and "On the Wall, a man gets only what he earns Jon, A boy you are, and a boy you'll remain until Ser Alliser says you are fit to be a man of the Night's Watch. If you thought your Stark blood would win you easy favors, you were wrong."

"We put aside our old families when we swear our vows. Your father will always have a place in my heart, but these are my brothers now." He gestured with his dagger at the men around them, all the hard cold men in black.

There are some scenarios in the fic I have read where people feel a familiarity with these characters but I didn't feel a thing. They still looked like characters to me, and Benjen didn't do any better.

I asked him about the accomodation of Ghost to which he said he will talk about it with Master Aemon and it will take care off.

I just gave him a nod and went along with the other recruits followed by Ren.

My plan was heavily reliant on meeting the bandits but it was all for naught, I was even hoping to increase my body strength along the way to the wall.

The only good news is that the wound on my hand has healed and I can look for my next victim, who could give me greater freedom and mobility here.

Ser Alliser Thorne serves as the master-at-arms of the Night's Watch at Castle Black. He is about fifty years old with sharp features, compact as well as sinewy. He wears crisp black leathers with his fur-trimmed cloak and polished boots, he is also carrying a longsword.

He looked at all of us in contempt before prompting everyone to wear the leather armor and meet in the yard quickly.

The courtyard rang to the song of swords. The outfit I wore had black wool under which, boiled leather, and mail, was fastened tightly to my body. We all were given blunted edged swords and demanded to introduce ourselves with our names.

The funny fact here was that when I introduced myself as Jon Snow, I got various snicker remarks than the rapers and all the criminal lot.

Even the wannabe commander Alliser with a proud smirk, "A fitting place for a bastard" which aroused laughter from all except from me and Ren who was looking at me to give a command so that he could take his head.

I just glanced at him and shrugged my shoulders. The powerplay and manipulation in the entire Westeros was truly fascinating, the way they changed the fault of a highborn fucker to his kid and the women never fails to amaze me.

These were the times I wished I was good at manipulation, or at least read some books on it, but who would have imagined, one to be in a situation like this.

After all the introductions were over, Alliser said it was time to check the skills of the recruits and paired me against Grenn, who was two years older than me, he was taller than me but skinny and looked like a sixteen-year-old.

I was praying to the god hoping he would be worse like me so that the fight could somewhat be extended for a while and make me look like a total buffoon.

Ren was facing Halder who was buff looking compared to the rest of us, but he was more than excited to fight the buff guy.

With the sign to start our spar, Grenn closed in to attack me with a swing to which I replicated the same move, both of us clashing with our swords. We did a few more moves but slowly everything felt familiar and easy.

It was like playing a computer game slowly getting accustomed to the settings after a long gap and getting the hang of it as minutes pass by.

Ahh, the integration of Jon skills completely.