CHAPTER 266

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CHAPTER 266

297 AC

POV THIRD PERSON

As Jon Snow observed the morning scene from atop the Wall, the frigid wind whipped at his cloak, carrying with it a biting chill that permeated the air. Below, Castle Black bustled with new arrivals from the Vale, their reluctance palpable in their every movement. These recruits, unaccustomed to the harsh realities of life at the Wall, lacked the deep-seated commitment that Jon had come to expect from his fellow brothers.

With a heavy sigh, Jon acknowledged the challenges that lay ahead. While the influx of fresh recruits offered a temporary reprieve, he knew all too well that the defense of the Wall demanded more than mere bodies. As Benjen always said, it required unwavering dedication, a willingness to sacrifice, and a steadfast belief in the greater purpose that bound them all together.

As he watched the Vale recruits go about their duties with varying degrees of enthusiasm, Jon couldn't help but feel a pang of concern. Many of them had been sent to Castle Black against their will, torn from their homes and thrust into a world they scarcely understood. He heard a commotion in the courtyard as he was coming down from the escalator.

As the commotion drew Jon's attention, he couldn't help but notice a young Vale nobleman—Ser Robert Waylwood, a young Vale lord whose presence seemed to exude an air of entitlement and arrogance. Clad in fine garments that stood out amidst the rugged attire of the Night's Watch, he refused to wear the black clothing and share his room. 

Jon observed the unfolding spectacle with a growing sense of foreboding, knowing all too well how it was going to end. While Ser Robert may have been accustomed to command and privilege in the halls of his ancestral home, Castle Black offered no such luxuries. Here, rank and title meant nothing.

Lord Commander Joer Mormont, a grizzled and stern figure renowned for his unwavering dedication to the Night's Watch, observed Ser Robert's entitled behavior with a critical eye. The Vale lord's words rang out loudly in the courtyard, his voice laced with a palpable sense of superiority, 

"I will not share rooms with cutthroats and thieves; they are beneath me!" Ser Robert proclaimed, his tone dripping with disdain as he addressed the other Night's Watchmen.

Murmurs of discontent rippled through the crowd at Ser Robert's arrogant declaration, eliciting a stern glance from Lord Commander Mormont. Though his features remained impassive, the Lord Commander's gaze held a warning that spoke volumes of the repercussions such insolence could bring.

"Here, we are all equal in the eyes of the Night's Watch," Lord Commander Mormont interjected, his voice carrying the weight of authority earned through years of service and sacrifice. "Titles and birthrights hold no sway beyond the Wall."

Without giving him any time to talk back Lord Commander continued, "You're a long way from your father's halls, Ser Robert. Here, you are no lord. You're a brother of the Night's Watch; you will share your room with whomever I order you to!"

While showing the black cloak in his hand, Ser Robert scoffed dismissively, "I may wear these black cloaks for a while, but I'll always be a Waylwood. I'll not share bread and associate with common criminals and beggars."

Ser Robert still thought the king would cancel their oath when the Vale defeated the Drasil, and that accursed Druid. Then, he could regain his birthright.

Lord Mormont's eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. "You've come here to take the black, and take it you shall. But don't for a moment think your birthright grants you immunity. Here, we're all equal under the shadow of the Wall."

Ser Robert's arrogance fueled his defiance. "Equal, you say? I'll have you know my family has ruled the Sweet Sister for generations. I won't take nobility and duty lessons from the likes of Mormonts."

The courtyard fell silent as Lord Commander Mormont approached Ser Robert with deliberate steps. He stopped inches from the defiant young noble, his gaze unwavering.

"Equality is the currency of the Night's Watch. You'll learn respect, or you'll learn the consequences," Lord Mormont's words were like a winter chill, sending shivers down the spines of those who witnessed the exchange.

Without further warning, Lord Mormont signaled to the stewards, who promptly brought forth a long rope. In a swift and decisive move, Ser Robert found himself bound, his entitlement stripped away along with his noble trappings.

"For your insubordination and disrespect, you'll wear the black in a different way," Lord Mormont declared, his voice carrying the weight of authority.

A few of the brothers in black picked up some thick sticks and started to beat him until his body turned black.

...

Today marked a turning point for Jon as he prepared for his first ranging beyond the Wall, following in the footsteps of his uncle, Benjen Stark.

The landscape beyond the Wall was unforgiving, with an eerie stillness that seemed to amplify every rustle in the wind. The group moved in a formation led by Benjen, their cloaks billowing in the cold breeze. Sam, Pyp, Grenn, and Edd followed right after Jon in a line.

As they ventured deeper into the wilderness, Wildlings emerged from the woods.

A guttural exchange ensued, the language foreign to Jon's ears. Despite Benjen's attempts at peaceful communication, the Wildlings, fueled by fear or desperation, made a sudden move.

Chaos erupted as the Wildlings attacked, catching Jon and his comrades off guard. In the midst of the skirmish, Sam found himself outnumbered and overpowered. Time seemed to slow as Jon, driven by instinct and loyalty, lunged forward to defend Sam.

His sword sliced through the air, intercepting a Wildling's blow aimed at his friend. The clash was fierce, each movement fueled by the dire necessity of survival. Jon's blade found its mark in a heartbeat, saving Sam from a fatal strike.

This was his first time killing a Wildling; Sam got up with some hardship, and his fear was evident on his round face.

"Thanks, Jon; without you, I would be dead."

Jon turned to Benjen and asked, "Didn't you say Wildlings in this area were friendly?"

Benjen cleaned his blade and said, "They are; these ones are not from around here. From their clothing and ornaments, it is obvious they are from up north."

Benjen grabbed one of the Wildlings that was still alive and dug his finger into his wound. The Wildling winced and screamed with pain. Benjen started to interrogate the man in a language the others didn't understand.

"Why are you in this part? Aren't you from up North?"

After some more persuasion, the man was close to dying, but he wanted this pain to end and started to talk, "Everybody is dead, we are cursed. Death is coming for us..."

After uttering those words, he died.

...

As days were spent ranging beyond the Wall, scouting Wildling settlements and locations, Jon found himself growing closer to his uncle Benjen Stark. Under the grizzled leadership of the veteran ranger, their bond deepened. Benjen's stern demeanor masked a genuine concern for the safety of his men, and Jon came to respect his uncle's wisdom and experience.

Amidst the frost-laden winds and biting cold of the Northern wilderness, Jon's resolve was tested, and the camaraderie with his fellow brothers flourished. Each day brought new challenges and dangers, but they faced them together, forging bonds that would endure even in the darkest of times.

It would be a lie if Jon said he didn't miss his siblings and Aermir. He even missed Sansa and her nagging, but making new close friends alleviated this longing and loneliness a little. In the company of friends like Samwell Tarly, Pypar, Eddison Tollett, and Grenn, Jon found solace amidst the harsh landscape beyond the Wall. The camaraderie forged amidst the vast expanse of snow and ice provided a semblance of warmth amidst the relentless cold.

 As they sat near their fire inside a cave, Sam's thoughtful demeanor contrasted with the playful banter of Edd and the others. Tossing small branches into the fire, Sam voiced his ponderings aloud,

"Hmmm, what do you think he meant by 'Death was coming for us?' It felt ominous."

Edd silently approached Sam from behind, his intent mischief evident in the mischievous glint of his eye. With a light touch to Sam's back, he attempted to startle him, prompting a flinch from the scholarly brother.

"Maybe there's a great Wildling army coming for us? They will catch and eat us. Especially you. Sam would make a mouth-watering feast for them." Edd mused, his tone teasing, as he joined Grenn in laughter at Sam's expense.

Sam's expression shifted from startled to somber, his brow furrowing with concern. "It's not funny; just because a man has fears doesn't mean he's a laughingstock. I just think something was weird with those Wildlings. He didn't say, 'Death is coming for you,' he said for us."

Pyp, ever the jester, couldn't resist the opportunity to poke fun at Sam's expense. "Maybe the legends are true..." he began, a mischievous twinkle in his eye before bursting into laughter. "The White Walkers were chasing them!"

Sam's anger flared, and he reacted impulsively, hurling a piece of burning wood toward Pyp and Grenn. "I am not talking about old wives' tales; be serious," he snapped, his frustration evident.

His tone softened, revealing the hurt beneath his irritation. "This was the same with my lord father; he took me as a joke, too. I always acted serious with my pursuits, but he saw me and mine as a joke. I am telling you, there is something amiss with them."

Benjen's reassuring words brought a sense of comfort to Sam's troubled mind. "No one is taking you as a joke here, Sam; they are just messing with you. We are brothers, and our bond will only end with death. If you think something is wrong, we will continue ranging in the direction they came from," he said with a reassuring smile.

Sam nodded gratefully, the weight of his concerns slightly lifted by Benjen's unwavering support. "Thank you, Ser Benjen. I appreciate your trust," he replied, his voice tinged with gratitude and determination. Benjen put his hand on his shoulder reassuringly and said, "Just call me Benjen; no need for Sers here."