47 Meeting #47

Auhtor's note, pleas read: I feel it's about time we had the time, my dudes. By the talk I mean the one about power stones. More power stones = a higher ranking = more exposure = more reader, etc, etc. It's a simple formula that I've explained before. 

Now then, why am I bringing this up now of all times? It's because the number of power stones I'm getting is abysmal, and as result, so is the number of readers, so if you like this story and want to see it continue, start donating those powers stones. 

And no, I don't plan to drop this fic no matter what happens, since I ended up dropping two before it. However, the quality and quantity of the support I get will reflect on the lenght of the story, and I will have to cut it short, if I don't see any support. 

There's two ways this story could end, one of them with a short but epic war with Night King, without getting too deep into the political drama going on South of the Wall. 

The other is long war, full of plot twists and some of that good old, game of thrones skull duggery you all know and love. In other words, the full Game of Thrones experience. 

So yeah, want a long story that involves the southern houses and maybe even Essos? Donate power stones. It's as simple as that.

...

Entering Mance Rayder's tent, Gale noticed the leader's welcoming smile tinged with relief. "At last, you've returned," Rayder greeted them. "The constant questions from the clan leaders about the damned crow and what he's doing in our midst were becoming tiresome."

Gale heaved a sigh, his frustration evident. "So, you haven't told them yet?" he asked, running a hand wearily across his forehead, casting a glance at the murmuring wildling clan leaders.

Mance Rayder shrugged. "I thought it best for them to hear it from you," he explained. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Before we delve into that matter, tell me you succeded in the mission." He went, turning his gaze to Tormund, waiting for confirmation. 

Before Tormund could respond, Gale took the lead. "Oh, we succeeded, all right," he declared, withdrawing the iceblade from his back. "I even brought back proof-- a white walker's iceblade," He added, and with a sense of accomplishment, he rested the blade on the table, where its icy presence caused the wooden surface to freeze.

Mance Rayder's eyes widened in astonishment at the sight of the iceblade, a tangible symbol of their success. He quickly shifted his gaze back to Tormund, seeking confirmation. 

Tormund nodded firmly in response to Rayder's unspoken inquiry.

"Aye, the lad indeed slew a White Walker- right before my eyes," Tormund confirmed with an air of casualness. "He used his strange magic sorcery, but it was dragon glass that finally put the frozen bugger down," he explained. 

As Tormund finished, the murmurings among the clan leaders grew more intense, revealing their amazement and intrigue.

Rayder couldn't contain his delighted smile, relishing the opportunity to reveal why he had welcomed the "damned crow" into their camp. He addressed the assembly of clan leaders, fixing his gaze upon Gale.

"Now you understand the reason for our guest's presence," Rayder began, savoring the moment before continuing. "As for the purpose that brought him here in the first place..." He paused, letting curiosity build amongst the clan leaders. "You'll hear it directly from the young man himself," he concluded with a nonchalant shrug, his smug expression causing an irksome reaction from Gale.

Gale had the urge to slam his head into a hard surface upon hearing Rayder's words. He wondered whether banging his head on the table or against Mance Rayder's smug face would offer more satisfaction. 

Nonetheless, he maintained his composure and began to explain their mission.

"I won't mince words... Winter is fast approaching, and the Night King marches south with an army of wights whose numbers we cannot fathom," Gale declared. "The Night's Watch is ill-prepared to face this impending winter, and as I see it, your people might not be ready either," he said, his tone steady. 

"My purpose in coming here is to forge an alliance between your tribes and the Night's Watch, so together, we can stand against the Night King and his legions." He concluded his plea for cooperation.

One of the wildling leaders, a towering man dressed in ragged attire that seemed to blend with the hues of tree bark, stepped forward. He had a bow strapped to his shoulder, and his voice carried a note of defiance as he challenged Gale's proposal.

"Why should we join forces with the Night's Watch when we can simply break through the Wall on our own?" he scoffed. 

"The Night's Watch has lost its former strength. There are hardly enough rangers left to defend the Wall, not bearly enough to stand in our way," he firmly asserted. "To begin with, we have no intention of fighting the Night King. We only seek shelter from the long winter behind the Wall." 

Gale studied the wildling leader for a moment, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "You must be the leader of the White Tree clan, correct?" he asked, more a statement than a question. 

The White Tree leader frowned, poised to offer a retort, but Gale continued speaking, preempting him.

"It doesn't really matter. I assume your belief that the Night's Watch has weakened is based on the reports your clan's scouts have gathered," Gale inquired, giving the clan leader an opportunity to confirm with a nod. 

Gale leaned in, a wry grin on his face. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but those reports are very much outdated," he said, shaking his head. "It's been well over a year since your people abandoned your village near the Wall, and the Night's Watch got wind of your alliance back then."

He shrugged casually. "In response, the Lord Commander has tripled the recruitment efforts since that time. While we might not have gathered enough men to fend off such a large army head-on..." he explained with a confident smile as he trailed off.

"We still have sufficient forces to make any assault on the Wall a costly endeavor. You know the saying, every man defending a fortified wall is worth at least ten, or so they claim in the South," he concluded with a sense of assurance.

The White Tree leader's frown deepened as he struggled to find a response. The enmity between the wildlings and the Night's Watch ran deep, and bridging that gap would be no easy feat. 

Gale, undeterred by the leader's silence, continued to press his case.

"Let's say you manage to cross the Wall without suffering crippling losses," he began, his tone even and matter-of-fact. "The Night King will still march south and cross the Wall behind you. But that should be the least of your worries."

He shook his head, his expression grim. "Lord Eddard Stark, the Warden of the North, would amass an army and crush the lot of you before you even reach the New Gift. And even if you miraculously manage to fend him off," Gale stated, a hint of skepticism in his voice. 

"What will you do when the southern lords rally an even bigger army and come for your blood? A war against the seven kingdoms is a war you can not and will not win. Even if you did, the Night King would still come for you, no matter how far you run."

He concluded his argument, his words hanging in the air, underscoring the dire predicament the wildlings would face.

The leader of the Hornfoot clan, dressed in thick furs, stepped forward with a deep sigh. "We're well aware of the predicament," he admitted with a note of resignation. "If we stay, we fall prey to the wights and turn into mindless corpses. And if we choose to fight, the outcome remains the same." 

He shook his head, his face reflecting the grim reality. "No matter how many warriors we amass, we can't hope to defeat the undead without a sufficient supply of dragon glass that's impossible to acquire, so an alliance with the Southerners seems futile," he continued. "Even if running only delays the inevitable... we have no other choice..." 

Gale couldn't help but chuckle, though it only deepened the Hornfoot leader's frown. "Who said it's impossible?" Gale responded with a confident grin. 

"There's an island in Blackwater Bay teeming with dragon glass, and it just so happens to be under the control of King Robert Baratheon's house," he explained. 

"An alliance with the Seven Kingdoms gives you access to dragon glass and, by extension, the means to fight and defeat the undead. You needn't run," he assured them, offering a ray of hope in their dire situation.

Tormund, who had observed the discussion in silence until now, broke into a wide grin and finally decided to voice his thoughts. "You've certainly thought this through, lad... you've left us no excuse to keep running," he acknowledged. "But I can't help but wonder... will your southern friends be as willing as you to work with our people?" he inquired.

Gale shook his head, his expression unwavering. "No, I expect they'll be even more hesitant than you are... they don't don't need your people to survive the winter, or so they'll believe," he admitted. "But I'll convince them otherwise," he declared confidently.

Tormund's grin grew even wider, and his eyes bore into Gale's with intensity. "And if you fail...?" he probed.

Gale couldn't help but chuckle, the hint of a wry smile on his lips. "Then you all better pray to your gods that you don't run into me when you eventually march on the wall."

...

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