Chapter 14

Wildlings/Free People/Those who were unlucky enough to be on the other side of the Wall

A group of people was led by a man with a large, dark chestnut beard, dressed in tattered, crudely stitched animal hides. He was called Maggar and was the chief of a small tribe consisting of 30 people, including women, children, and elders. To save them and himself, he dared to cross the Wall, fortunate that the Night's Watch was not what it once was, according to ancestral tales which said the Watch had members as numerous as the snow in the north. However, Maggar and his people only encountered a handful of cowardly followers who chose to flee at the first sign of danger. Maggar and his people quickly dispatched them all, knowing that if word got out that his significant group had crossed the Wall, their lives would end there and then, as the Watch would not leave such an act unpunished.

Although Maggar was no coward, he knew he couldn't withstand the combined force of the Watch and its followers, so he and his band had no choice but to hide. Fortunately, they were well-equipped for this, with resources ranging from four skinchangers to sixteen warriors. With such a group, he believed they could fend off smaller squads but remain unnoticed by larger forces.

"Magnar!" called one of the skinchangers, who could transform into an eagle, named Grann. Grann appeared younger compared to Maggar, which he was; he had been the best friend of Maggar's late brother, and after his death at the hands of cannibals, Maggar had taken on the responsibility for Grann, raising him almost as his own son. Thus, he trusted him completely. Despite many fearing skinchangers for their difference, Maggar relied on Grann's loyalty.

"What's happened?"

"I've spotted a group of 30 people approaching, bearing a banner with an emblem of a man breaking chains on a red field," Grann quickly reported.

This news made Maggar frown; he recognized the emblem as belonging to the people of Umber.

"Damn! Can we retreat?"

"I doubt it; the clans behind us have become active," Grann replied.

Maggar only had one thought: "How can I save my people?"

"What do we do, Maggar?"

Knowing his people would follow whatever decision he made, Maggar weighed the options and decided.

"We can't fight them... We'd likely be killed. The only option is to split up; half of our warriors will stay here to confront them fully armed, while the others will go with those who cannot fight."

Grann simply nodded, and soon the tribe gathered for a quick meeting.

"Brothers and sisters, the people of Umber will soon catch up to us... They outnumber us, and we will try to negotiate with them, but I doubt they will let us go or allow us to live. But I do not want you to die in vain, so I ask who wishes to stay here to protect our children and women? Those who choose otherwise will not be judged; you will have the duty to protect in our absence."

The tribe whispered among themselves, but no one objected, understanding they had no chance to escape. About eight warriors and five elders chose to stay and fight, while Maggar convinced the women to move on, saying the children needed their care. They listened to reason and left.

"I'll stay with you, Maggar!" Grann almost shouted.

"Unfortunately, I cannot allow that. You have become like a son to me; who else can I trust with my wife and the child growing within her?"

"But..."

"No buts! You go with them."

Grann wanted to protest, but seeing Maggar's look and the children surrounding them, he changed his mind.

"Damn you!"

"Hah... Take care of her," Maggar said as he watched Grann leave.

Grann only nodded. Maggar then turned to his people, instructing them to prepare for the encounter with the followers. Thanks to the remaining skinchangers, they knew approximately when to expect the people of Umber. They couldn't prepare anything unusual in the time they had, but they could set a simple ambush. Maggar ordered everyone to hide before the encounter.

After a not-so-long wait, 20 well-armored people with steel weapons arrived, at least ten on horseback. Maggar signaled his people to stay put, planning for the skinchangers and their animals to strike first.

Now, as the enemies were nearly upon them, it was time.

"Attack!" Maggar commanded.

From the ambush, bears, twilight cats, and wolves sprang out. To their surprise, the people of Umber were not startled, realizing it was futile; Maggar then ordered the main army to attack.

"May Our Gods help us."

POV Daeron

The last time I checked on the wild tribe, I roughly understood what they intended to do. Fighting was clearly not in their plans; if they could have surrendered, they would have. However, they somehow knew who was leading us and that he would likely slaughter them all. After that, they began planning an ambush, knowing a cornered beast fights most fiercely. Keeping this in mind, I decided to warn my allies. Thanks to my skills in hunting, where I often found prey faster than anyone else, everyone assumed I had phenomenal senses.

"Lord Mors, something awaits us ahead."

Mors just nodded and said:

"Men, be on your guard."

As we approached the ambush zone, all our men were battle-ready, and when the animals attacked, no one was significantly harmed.

The moment came, and the wild tribe, led by their chief, charged at us. I took a deep breath and focused intensely.

"ATTACK!!!" Mors shouted.

Our men completely overpowered the wild tribe. In front of me was an old man who just wanted to escape... A moment... And his head lay at my horse's feet. I saw a skinchanger trying to take over my horse; I swiftly dismounted and approached the skinchanger.

Seeing me unsheathe my bronze axe, there was no fear in his eyes, just doomed certainty... The battle was brief, and their bronze weapons were no match for steel, and soon he was on his knees trying to stem the blood gushing from his throat... It was futile... He was already dead. After, my vision was bathed in red, and I found myself chopping another elder to pieces, another moment, and a young man screamed in pain and terror as I ripped open his stomach. I came to myself only to find that I was knee-deep in blood, with corpses all around me... I turned and saw the people of Umber looking at me in fear and awe, while Robb didn't know what to say... Mors just smiled and said.

"Hahaha, you're a fierce one, Bloody Wolf! Haha..."

I tried to understand what had happened...

"War's Blessing has evolved, demon blood has spurred the development of the talent. Bloodlust defect acquired... Removed under the influence of 'Icy Mind'..."

What?! What kind of trick is this?!

"The system didn't miss it... You didn't check the notifications... To remove the defect, you had to experience this curse."

What the hell?! When?!

"After killing the demon."

... After verifying, I realized that indeed... Damn it... And why did Icy Mind act for so long? After 20 minutes, I learned that Icy Mind had been removing defects all this time, originally Bloodlust was supposed to leave me forever a madman. But thanks to Icy Mind, the major defects were removed, only participating in a battle to the death remained for the complete removal of the curse.

Reflecting, I remembered what happened during this Bloodlust.

A few seconds ago

An old man, with only grim determination in his gaze, saw a young man running towards him, the elder knew he wouldn't survive this encounter.

"Forgive me, lad," said the old man and prepared to kill. Here he swings the axe, as a sword pierces his throat.

"Khaah!"

Then there was only darkness...

At the same time, a young man, who had volunteered to defend his tribe because he had lost much and had nothing more to lose, saw how a young dark-haired man was effortlessly killing and butchering the free folk. Knowing he had no chance in a direct confrontation, he decided to attack from behind. Just a little more...

"Khaah!" A sharp pain in his stomach, looking down, he saw a sword protruding.

"Mercy..." the young man tried one last time. But he heard no response, only seeing a cold smile and joy in gray eyes before everything went dark. "D-demon..."

After the battle

I hesitated to surrender or talk about the part of the tribe that had fled, as I couldn't risk Mors wanting to pursue them further... In that case, there was a high chance that children would have to be killed... And I hadn't sunk so low yet.

"Let it be... If they cause trouble, they'll be quickly killed," I thought.

After this battle, I earned the nickname "Bloody Wolf"... It could have been worse, I decided. And decided to pay no mind as it wouldn't significantly affect the world or me. A couple of hours later, Robb understood and accepted what happened to me during the fight with the wild tribe. I managed to explain everything by referring to it as a berserk state that I couldn't control. Somehow, everyone believed it.

At The Last Hearth, we were greeted almost as heroes, and every second toast was in my honor. This attention was straining as, in my view, I had killed defenseless elders... Not something my inner warrior found pride-worthy. Robb just smiled, and as they now left him alone, they hassled me...

After the feast, where all the dishes of the North were served, I decided not to waste energy on training but just to sleep. On the way there, a maid flirted with me, but I was not in the mood for such diversions...

The next day, I was awakened by the sound of people training outside. I was about to go down, but Mors just told me:

"Rest, boy. You've earned it."

I didn't refuse and instead went to look for the library. Unfortunately, the castle's library wasn't as extensive as the one at Winterfell, but there was still interesting reading material. Mostly, I found myself alone there, except for the maester. The younger generation didn't visit unless ordered by the maester, and the older generation seemed to have read everything long ago. So, I found myself either in the company of the maester or alone.

"Daeron! What are you doing?" asked a voice from a rather annoying feathered friend named Tun.

"Reading..."

"I wanted to ask, what is a chicken?"

Oh man, I often called him a chicken and told him it was a grand bird...

"You know..."

"Well, I noticed one person calling a non-flying bird 'chicken'."

"Well, probably it was his favorite bird, so he named it that..." I hoped this would suffice.

"Aha, so that's how it is... You wanted to hear this?! You think I'm that stupid? That person then killed the bird, and he treated the others the same way! And guess what I found out when I checked the others?"

"Oops...?"

"You're in trouble, my leathery friend..." promised this vengeful feathered friend.

Knowing him, I should expect a dose of what he considers prime jokes... Trouble indeed...