56 2/2

The young man handed his bow over which Marcus inspected, feeling how balanced it was and testing the strength of the string. "So there is a simple trick with shooting as a group." He started to explain before gesturing for other archers around his height. "So if wind conditions are good, such as today, its all about getting your angle right." Looking out to the field, he'd pick out the mid-post before picking an arrow to draw back. Pulling the string, he'd set his aim at a sixty-degree angle. "Match my aim." The group did so, Marcus letting them take their time as he held his pose with ease. "And…LOOSE!"

With the order given, their arrows flew and landed in a grouped line along the marker. The archer chuckled and grinned, pleased with the result. "Its that simple?" The lad asked, taking his bow back from the Northerner.

"A beginner's lesson. So long as you understand the distance and the angle of your shots, you'll all shoot bunched up." Marcus explained. "Course even Ogatto here knows that. Hells I even taught him that."

The Dothraki shrugged with an amused smirk. "You're a good teacher, as you've shown." He laughed out. "Everyone take a short break. We'll practice on your angles for the others posts and at different positions along the defenses." With the instructions given, the militia members chatting about or finding someplace to sit for a while. "So what do you wish to discuss Marcus?"

"About our enemy and current odds. According to Shadow's report, we're quite outnumbered even with our growing militia."

Ogatto nodded. "About five hundred mercenaries. Two hundred of them are the Bloody Mummers with a hundred light cavalry, though they have about twenty zorse for their commanders and elites."

"Zorses…" Marcus had heard about the foul tempered half-horses, an exotic beast that came from beyond the Bone Mountains east of the Dothraki sea. "Those will be a problem. From my understanding those mounts are near fearless and can leap over even man-made defenses."

"Aye. We'll have to take them out quickly if they rush at us. I've seen those horses take multiple arrows only to go into a rage instead of panic." The Dothraki detailed. "The rest of the Mummers personal forces is foot soldiers, pretty much a mix of everything. The captain Shadow questioned sadly couldn't be clear on those details." Shrugging he'd continue on. "The other three hundred are a mix of sellsword bands who signed on with the Lannisters and put under the Vargo Hoat's command. Their numbers are more clear, a hundred dedicated archers, around one hundred fifty soldiers and the last fifty being heavy armored veterans. Overall it's going to take them a bit over a month to get here by ferrying across the Forks through Harroway."

Marcus nodded as he thought over the numbers. "And our fighting number is around three hundred, though that may grow before they arrive. However nearly half of our forces aren't truly battle tested and a fourth are still learning the basics."

Ogatto smirked a bit. "So…the classic outnumbered and outmatched situation. Really those are the kinds of battles I enjoy."

"I'd prefer we didn't lose most of our forces. Such a loss would weaken our message of the small folk being capable of standing up for themselves."

"Not trying to be negative…" The Dothraki sighed, realizing how dire the situation was. "This is war and while these people are being shown a way to not be helpless, there will still be losses." His eyes, especially that pale blind one had a sharp look to it. "We can't save them all Marcus."

The Northerner was silent, glancing at the militia as he focused his gaze on the young lad who had lent him his bow. He wondered what the boy's fate would be. A causality in the nearing battle be it by a lucky arrow or cut down by a sellsword. Even if he survived how would the experience change him…make him stronger, traumatize him or make him into something bloodthirsty. Marcus had seen what conflict does to people, turning decent men into a cold-blooded killers. Even he had neared that path…nearly became something like the Shadow.

Hands wrapped around that young neck; the sight of the young bastard boy's eyes were wide as he gasped for air. Never had he felt such rage towards someone so young, making his thumbs press down on his windpipe. Everything he had taught the boy for the last few years…he twisted for his own sick desires. Even as he was crushing the life out of that boy he could see it on his face…the sadistic glee in those eyes…

"Marcus." Hearing his name snapped him out of his dark memory and glancing back at the Dothraki. The former Bloodrider knew the hunter was thinking of the past, though didn't question him on what it was about.

At last Marcus nodded in understanding. "I know." He simply answered before moving to face the inn. "Keep working on their aim. Only have over a month…so every competent archer counts."

"Of course Marcus."

With that said, the Northerner headed back to his home. The dark memory still echoing in his mind…which even Garm could sense. The loyal canine whined a bit, his snout nudging his master's hand as they walked. Looking down at those knowing eyes, a soft smile crossed his face as he rubbed his companion's head. "You're right old friend. It's in the past…and in the end I got you from it." Nearing the inn he could see his wife and daughter, Sandra watching Merry run around with the other kids. The sight put the past to the back of his mind, knowing right now today and the future matter so much more. "For the future…" He muttered to himself as he rejoined his beloved family.

Late midday - Somewhere Beyond the Wall – Jon Snow

Jon panted as he caught his breath, wiping blood off his lips after the difficult fight he had endured. For a moment he just glanced about the snow-covered wasteland and his Wildling captors who had watched the fight. His gaze then drifted to Longclaw in his loosely bound hands, the Valyrian steel blade red with blood. Then his eyes moved to his slain foe…a fellow brother of the Night's Watch, the ranger veteran Qhorin Halfhand. Ghost was beside him, the white furred wolf licking his muzzle clear of blood after having bitten the old ranger in the leg, holding him in place for Jon to deal a killing bow.

The Grand Ranging had nearly fallen apart over the course of the last few months. Limited scouting information, increasingly bad weather and even encounters with stray yet enduring Wights. Indeed the undead problem had grown since the first encounter so long ago when he had arrived in Castle Black. When the rangers who had been with his uncle Benjen had been found slain, they had risen over night before being properly burned. With that and the growing reports of Wildling sightings on their side of the Wall, action was called for. They had set up a base camp at the Fist of the First Men, a strong foothold to do their ranging.

All around him the Wildlings muttered, openly impressed at the young man's prowess in killing one of their greatest enemies. The plan was working as Halfhand had expected, proving himself worthwhile to the Wildlings and giving him the chance to learn of their full plans.

From the group a Wildling woman spoke up, red hair peeking out from her winter coat hood. "You can tell Mance that that is the man who killed Qhorin Halfhand."

Ygritte's words silenced the muttering as all gazes were focused on the band's leader, a large fellow dressed in an intimidating outfit of bones. The Lord of Bones gave a small grunt before moving over to Jon, one hand out as he silently demanded for Longclaw. Jon obeyed handing the weapon over, knowing this could easily end with steel being plunged into his heart. In the end the man just cut his wrist bindings, drawing a relieved sigh from the young ranger.

"Burn the body." The bone covered Wildling ordered to the others before whispering to Jon. "You don't want this one coming back for you."

Jon didn't reply back, only keeping a calm expression towards the man. He couldn't show weakness or distress over killing the respectable ranger. Both Halfhand and even Geralt before him had told him that such open feelings could reveal your intent to your enemy. Thankfully he had had a lot of practice since parting with the Witcher. He watched them set the fallen ranger alight, turning away when he felt Ygritte's hand on his shoulder. There was concern in her eyes which was unexpected, though their history was a complex one at that. "Not too roughed up Jon?" She remarked, a witty tone hinting her voice.

"I'm fine." He sighed, clearing whatever blood and sweat on his face.

"Good." She'd motioned for him to follow her along towards the edge of the ridge, which he followed. Reaching the end, they'd gaze out across a wide valley that had been tucked away in the Frostfangs, far beyond the reach of possibly even the most experienced Rangers. Gray and white tents littered the flat valley, countless thousands living in a camp city. At that point he realized just how unified the Wildlings were…an army that possibly outnumbered the Kingdoms combined military numbers. Everyone south of the Wall greatly underestimated just how united the Wildlings truly were.

"Come on boy." The Lord of Bones grunted. "You can still walk, so you'll be seeing Mance. Better have something worthwhile to tell him else we'll be having another fire by tonight."

Despite the threat, Jon ignored it as he followed the Wildling leader and Ygritte down the slope towards the Wildling camp. As they walked through the camp, he quickly realized this wasn't truly a war camp as among the men there were nearly double as many women and children. While the Wildling women were a hardy bunch, he could see a few didn't have the fierceness that Ygritte had when they saw him. People quickly recognized his Night's Watch armor and cloak, muttering 'Crow' amongst each other. However a far more imposing and frightening sight walked…or more of stomped into view.

Jon had heard tales about the giants who lived this far north, towering creatures that could stand up to fourteen feet tall. The bearded one that passed by carried tree sized mammoth tusks as if they were planks was a prime example of its kind. Gaunt squished face, small beady eyes almost covered by folding flesh and a half-snarled mouth with flat brick shaped teeth. It was dressed much like the Wildlings only simply many times larger in scale. The biggest different though was leather straps that were its shoes since the creature's feet became wide and flat like a tree trunk.

"First time you've seen a giant Jon Snow?" Ygritte chuckled, enjoying the amazed look on Jon's face as the giant dumped the tusks to the ground with a loud clatter.

"Aye…though I've heard plenty of tales from a friend of mine." He muttered back to her.

Curious, she'd smirk. "Really now? Was he giant slayer as well?"

This time it was his turn to smirk back at her. "Yes in fact and the best swordsman I've ever met. He's hunted a few giants and other creatures all on his own." He had mentioned Geralt, though not by name, to the spearwife during their time together…which so far had been with him or her being the other's captive.

She rolled her eyes at the claim, nudging him along as the giant seemed to give an annoyed grunt with them staring at him. "Such the naïve Crow. It takes a dozen toughed men to take down a giant, normally with half of them dying."

He didn't try arguing on the matter though already he was understanding the story Geralt had shared about the frost giant he had hunted. Tough and big as they were, they still had tendons and muscles that if cut correctly would cripple the limb. Just mattered if you could avoid being crushed though…

"Alright we're here boy." The Lord of Bones growled as they reached a larger tent, opening the flap for the group.

Jon paused as he looked to Ghost who had been following silently, the direwolf looking up at him. "Wait outside boy." He said, rubbing his companion's head before entering the tent."

The inside was dimly lit, the only light being from the cracks within the harden leather tenting and the small campfire set in the center. For the home for the King-Beyond-The-Wall, he had expected more comfortable surroundings though this was quite basic considering.

By the fire were two individuals, one being a messy red haired and bearded Wildling. While he wore the usual winter garb, he was quite broad and imposing in size. In his hand he had food wrap filled with some kind of meat, which he nosily chewed on. The second man was a Thenn who had no ears on his head. The earless warrior was by far the best armed out of the Free Folk Jon had seen, having bronze scaled armor along with a helm and a sturdy weirwood spear crowned with a ornate spear tip.

The red-haired warrior took another bite from his meal before at last speaking to the group. "Hmm…I smell a Crow. Young one at that." He muttered.

"We've killed his friends and thought to bring him here for questioning. The boy claims he's interested in joining our cause." The Lord of Bones explained back.

"And what would we want with a baby crow. We know enough about his ilk."

At this point Ygritte spoke up. "This baby crow killed Halfhand…course with a little help with his pet outside."

The name of the ranger made the Wildling glance up hearing the veteran ranger's name. Standing up, the man was nearly a head taller than Jon, though he kept a passive look as the ginger loomed over him. "That half-handed cunt killed friends of mine, friends twice your size."

"My father told me big men fall just as quick as little ones if you put a sword through their heart. Halfhand was just the same…and he had it coming after the mess he got us in."

The man smirked at the remark, taking another step closer now. "Plenty of little men have tried to put their swords through my heart and there are plenty of little skeletons buried in the woods." There was a tense pause as the two stared down each other. "What's your name then boy."

"Jon Snow…" He muttered back. "So then…where is Mance Rayder?"

A low chuckle escaped from the Wildling as he'd place one strong hand on Jon's right shoulder, gripping down on it tightly. "What makes you think that Jon? Think I'm not kingly enough?"

Jon smirked back despite the growing ache coursing through his shoulder. "Because I doubt you could convince the sorry lot outside to follow you. Don't have the wits for it." He'd grunt as the hand squeezed harder, though in turn his hand grasped at that sturdy forearm. "No…your Mance's guard dog. The perfect decoy to keep a blade off his back."

For a moment he thought the man was going to head butt him from how he was craning his neck, until a calm commanding voice suddenly spoke up. "Calm yourself Tormund."

From the shadowy back of the tent, another flap parted as a figure stepped out into the light. Mance was a tall and slender man, rivalling even Tormund's height. He was dressed in a mix of clothing more fitting of the lands south of the Wall, gray wool clothing and dark brown leather with a faded black green cloak on his shoulders. His face while gruff was fairer than the Wildling men, hinting at him having some heritage from the south side of the Wall. In one hand he held an aged lute, though it seemed well maintained under his care.

Tormund didn't look back at Mance, though he did obey as he let go of Jon's shoulder. He had a wicked grin on his face as he'd go back to sit down while the real King-Beyond-The-Wall approached Jon. "A lot more perceptive then I expected Jon."

Rubbing his sore shoulder, Jon nodded slightly back. "Learned a lot as of late. Tricks from friends and foes alike."

"You do show surprising cunning for a bastard of Eddard Stark." He remarked back before glancing over to the Lord of Bones. "Thank you for bringing Jon to me Lord of Bones. Go get your group food and rest, tell the cooks extra rations for tonight."

Only giving a grunt and nod, the bone covered man turned to leave with Ygritte's following along. She did pause at the tent flap to glance back at Jon, who in turn looked back at her. For a short moment their eyes met, making him glance down before leaving the tent and drawing a low chuckle from Mance.

"The girl likes ya and I can tell you like her back Snow." The remark did draw a faint blush across the young man's face, though he didn't speak back on the matter. "Is that a reason why you wish to join us?"

Right now Jon knew he had to choose his words carefully, making him hesitate instead of quickly answering back. Tormund spoke up first as he moved up beside Mance. "This isn't the damned Night's Watch where we make you swear off girls." Walking past Jon, he'd stand behind the young man, watching him intently.

"Some proper introduction. This 'guard dog' here is Tormund Giantsbane, who represents quite a few tribes camping outside."

Jon nodded in understanding. "Seems you've rallied all of the Wild- I mean Free Folk to your cause."

"Heh…what's left of us." Tormund muttered under breath.

Mance did give a short glance to Tormund to be quiet before looking back to Jon. "So then Jon Snow, what are your reasons for betraying the Night's Watch and what can you offer to support us?"

Jon was silent for a moment as he did see the Thenn tapping his fingers across the white shaft of his spear, no doubt wanting an excuse to gut him right then. "Because everything that has led up to me being here has been based on lies." He stated, drawing a curious look from the Wildling King.

"Lies?"

Jon nodded. "My father and my uncle Benjen filled my head with the image of the Watch being an honorable group. A place I'd be accepted despite being a bastard, where I could be free to forge my own path though honest effort."

"And what did the Watch turn out to be?"

A deep frown showed on Jon's face. "A dumping ground for criminals and the unwanted. Men who aren't there for a just cause but to avoid the consequences they or others have made." In a way he was venting his feelings towards Mance who continued to listen closely. "True there are decent men in the Watch such as the Lord Commander Mormont and friends I have made, yet for every decent man there are two more backstabbers such as Thorne."

The mention of the Master-at-arms drew an amused smirk from the Wildling King. "So you understand what I've experienced myself." Gesturing to the campfire, he took a seat with Jon sitting across from him with Tormund looming behind him. "The Night's Watch is barely able to manage itself along with the fact the Kingdoms have little interest in their situation, except for your father of course."

Jon gave a questioning look. "How do you know that?"

Mance gave a small knowing smile as he tested the string of his lute before adjusting the tuning. "Let's just say I personally go off to learn such things. Risky yet very rewarding. Besides it had been quite a long time since I enjoyed a real Northerner feast."

More confusion showed on Jon's face as he thought over Mance's words. Then it just clicked for him as he looked at the lute then over the man himself. "Wait…I remember you now." He muttered in shock. So many months ago at Robert's feast in Winterfell, he remembered some nameless minstrel who had showed up, having quite the talented singing voice. It had been Mance Rayder who had snuck his way over the Wall just to spy on everyone. "Gods…you were right there under everyone's nose…Benjen…"

Mance laughed out in amusement at Jon's surprise. "Seems you also have a good memory to be able to recognize me. Everyone always remarked that I'm quite plain in appearance, helps me blend in." Smirking, he'd strum the lute before giving an approving nod. "However information beyond the Wall flows much better than you think. I have connections such as Free Folk who have blended in and Night's Watch who support me. Our ears only go as far south to the North, but impressive considering our limitations."

Jon nodded in agreement. "Then that means I can't tell you much more if you're already so informed."

"Aye true…" Mance's gaze drifted up from his lute to look right at Jon, a cold calculating gaze. "Except we haven't settled what you want Jon."

"What I want?"

The man nodded. "You've shared your grievances about the Night's Watch. How it has long lost it's virtues along with forgetting it's real purpose." Those last words struck true to Jon, since even he knew what 'purpose' the man meant. "Yet despite your issues, you haven't told us what YOU want. So…tell us."

Jon didn't answer as he pondered over those words…the same thing Geralt and even Tyrion had said. Sighing, he'd clasp both hands together before at last speaking. "I want to be free of it all. Being branded a bastard…bound to my oaths in the Watch. No ties to anything but by my choices and will!"

With that declaration the tent was silent except for the whistling of wind outside. Mance gave a smirk before setting his lute aside to lean on the stump seat beside him. "True freedom. Something that is near impossible in this world." He muttered. "If you didn't say it with such certainty…I'd think you were a fool, a boy lying just to be a hero." Gesturing to Tormund, he'd speak out to the man. "Get more of that chicken and any drink for us. Good conversation requires such things."

The Wildling gave an annoyed look to Jon before nodding at the order, heading to the back space of the tent to get what was needed.

"So…does that means you're letting me join."

"It means I won't be having Styr back there string you up." Mance casually stated, giving a nod to the smirking Thenn. "You may have claimed to not know anything worthwhile to us, but there are a few questions I have to ask."

Tormund returned with plates of chicken and some ale skins…though he too had a meal for himself. Taking a seat close by, he'd noisily chew into his meal while keeping that glaring gaze on Jon. "As you wish…though may I be bold to ask one question of you."

"Oh this boy has balls." Tormund chuckled with his mouth full.

Mance though nodded. "Fair enough. Ask, within reason of course."

"What is this all about? You uniting the tribes and sending Free Folk over the Wall." He calmly asked. "I've ran into your scouts before I even arrived at the Wall, wild eyed and desperate. What is driving you all to brave the Wall along with the hostility of the Kingdoms?" He'd pause as he let those words sink in. "It's not ambition…you don't seem the type for grandstanding rulership. It's not hatred because you'd just have had me killed for who I served. So what is it?"

The Wildling King didn't answer as he took a drink from his ale skin with a sigh. "Survival." He simply stated, a dark look showing in his eyes. "The Land of Beyond the Wall are buried. Spring and summer are practically gone in recent decades; thus crop and game thins." He'd take another drink. "Then the storms started and the dead-"

"Are rising again." Jon finished.

Mance smirked a bit. "Oh I've heard of your case in Castle Black. The Free Folk always had to deal with Them. We did it like Craster does, offering a babe to Them and in turn they leave us be." He'd pause as he had a distant look in his eyes. "I don't know when or why, only that they want us dead now. They have countless ways to do it and for everyone that falls, it adds to their numbers."

"So you plan to get everyone over the Wall? You know that is impossible."

"Nothing is impossible Jon. I didn't become King-Beyond-the-Wall without having a plan." Mance stated. "Point is we stay here, we'll all die. Every man, woman and child we get south will deny Them another body for their army. For every life preserved among the Free Folk, is a victory over the White Walkers."

Jon wanted to ask more, know just what the White Walkers truly were or not. However he felt he was testing the man on just how much he could learn at once. "Then to the living then." He'd take a swig from his ale skin, cringing a bit from how strong it was but swallowed it anyway with a gasp. "Ugh…so…what did you wish to ask me?"

"About a certain individual. Someone who even during my visit to Winterfell perplexed me." Taking a bite of his chicken, he'd continue to speak. "Tell me everything you know about Geralt of Rivia…this White Wolf…"

…

Notice: Bet you didn't expect Jon to make a comeback after so long. Considering it has been over twenty plus chapters since Geralt left him at Castle Black, it seemed like a good time to see how he has changed so many months later. Plus it was a good way to introduce some of our favorite Wildling characters.

More side character POVs with the next focus being towards the Lannisters as they make some unlikely alliances that can turn everything into their favor. Then we'll be back to Ciri and Dany as the schemes of the Warlocks truly begin.

Anyway work is getting busy once again with new hires, yet I'll strive to get a speedy release for the next chapter. As always please send review and chat on the forums!