Chapter 498: The Secret of the White Walkers

The snowfall atop the Wall had lightened, with delicate flakes drifting lazily through the air.

Yet the wind from beyond the Wall remained relentless, howling like the fabled breath of an ice dragon. It carried with it an unyielding chill, never stopping.

Night now consumed two-thirds of each day, growing longer with every passing moment. No one could say when—or if—the sun would rise again.

Samwell Caesar walked alone along the Wall's icy parapet. Beneath his feet, the frozen ramparts shimmered in the sunlight with hues of blue and white.

On cloudy days, the Wall looked like ordinary white stone; at night, it was as unremarkable as coal. But under a clear sky, it gleamed like crystal, with every fissure catching the sunlight, creating the illusion of a frozen rainbow—a breathtaking and majestic sight.

---

The iron lift creaked to a halt, and two figures stepped out.

"Well, what a coincidence, Mance," Samwell said, smiling at the King-Beyond-the-Wall and his sister-in-law. "And Miss Val."

"Caesar," Mance Rayder greeted him curtly, his expression indifferent.

A few days prior, in Castle Black's great hall, Samwell had burned the Horn of Winter and used his overwhelming presence to force the wildling leaders to kneel. Despite this, Mance had refused to bend the knee.

Still, he chose to remain at the Wall, aiding the Night's Watch in defending against the White Walkers.

Val had stayed as well.

The "wildling princess" was dressed entirely in white—white woolen trousers tucked into bleached leather boots, a white bearskin cloak draped over her shoulders, and a sweater stitched from white wool using bone needles.

Even her breath was white in the frosty air.

Only her eyes broke the pattern. They were a deep, dazzling blue, like twin stars.

"Caesar, your crows can't seem to behave," Val remarked.

"Are you referring to the Night's Watch?" Samwell asked. "Did they offend you?"

"Someone snuck into my tent last night," Val said, patting the long bone dagger at her waist. "I chased him out, but if it happens again, I might leave him a little keepsake."

Samwell chuckled.

"If it happens again, I suggest you castrate him. That way, he won't be able to break his vows anymore."

"An excellent idea!" Val laughed, her smile radiant.

It was hard to deny her beauty. She possessed a wild charm that the southern ladies of noble houses often lacked—something primal and untamed. It was no wonder some members of the Night's Watch found it difficult to resist her allure.

---

"Among us free folk," Val said, her blue eyes fixed on Samwell with a teasing glint, "if a man manages to steal a woman, she'll gladly marry him if he's strong enough to keep her."

Samwell smiled inwardly at her boldness.

However, he had no intention of stealing a wildling princess to warm his bed. His thoughts were consumed by the unsettling silence beyond the Wall. There had been no sightings of White Walkers or wights for days—a stillness so unnatural that it filled him with foreboding.

"Do you think the White Walkers have intelligence?" Samwell asked, steering the conversation to another topic.

"They're probably smarter than some of your southern lords," Val replied, her indignant tone making her look particularly adorable.

"The White Walkers do have intelligence," Mance Rayder said. "Wights are essentially corpses, but White Walkers are not. They are strange, beautiful—like icy spirits, elegant and deadly."

Samwell stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"If they have intelligence and can think, their actions must have a purpose. What do you think their goal is in marching south?"

"What's the purpose of the sun rising in the east and setting in the west?" Val countered. "Or the purpose of summer ending and winter arriving?"

"You misunderstand me," Samwell said. "The sun and the seasons are natural phenomena. They have no purpose. But intelligent beings are different. Lions hunt to feed themselves. Mice dig burrows to avoid predators. So, what are the White Walkers trying to achieve?"

"To bring cold and death to the world?" Val guessed hesitantly.

Samwell shrugged, clearly unconvinced.

"Revenge," Mance Rayder suggested.

"Revenge?" Samwell raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What grudge do the White Walkers have against humanity?"

"Do you know their origin?" Mance asked in return.

"I've heard they're servants of the Great Other, The God of Cold." Samwell replied, his tone carrying a hint of skepticism.

"That's what the red priests say," Mance replied. "But among the free folk, a different tale is told."

He placed a hand on the icy wall and gazed northward, where mist clung to the horizon.

"You probably know that the Children of the Forest were the first inhabitants of Westeros. They wielded supernatural powers, communed with animals, and carved faces into weirwoods to worship their gods.

Over ten thousand years ago, the First Men crossed from Essos to Westeros via the Arm of Dorne, which had not yet broken. They cut down trees, burned forests, and hunted animals, sparking a war with the Children of the Forest.

The White Walkers, according to legend, were created by the Children during this war. They drove dragonglass daggers into the chests of the First Men and used magic to transform them into something new.

But the White Walkers eventually turned against the Children, threatening all life. The First Men and the Children set aside their differences, made peace at the Isle of Faces, and united to drive the White Walkers back to the Land of Always Winter. They built the Wall and established the Night's Watch to ensure the Walkers could never return.

So, the White Walkers were created as instruments of vengeance. From the moment of their birth, their sole purpose has been the destruction of humanity."

---

"I've heard this theory before," Samwell said, "but there's something that doesn't add up."

"What is it?"

"The White Walkers were created as weapons to fight the First Men, but they clearly gained independence. They must have developed intelligence to break free from the Children's control.

If that's the case, their grudge should be against the Children of the Forest, not humanity. If they seek revenge, why not target the Children? And if their goal is destruction, well… there's no point now. The Children of the Forest are nearly extinct.

As for humanity, what reason would the White Walkers have to hate us?"

Mance fell silent, contemplating Samwell's reasoning.

---

"Perhaps they're just trying to go home," Val suggested.

"Go home?" Samwell echoed, intrigued.

"If the White Walkers were once human, then south of the Wall is their home," Val explained. "They've spent thousands of years gathering strength in the Land of Always Winter. Maybe all they want is to break through the Wall and return home."

Samwell mulled over this idea, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"Have either of you been to Craster's Keep?"

"No," Val replied. "Craster may be a free folk, but none of us associate with him. He provides shelter to the Night's Watch and has married over a dozen wives—most of them his daughters."

"I've been there," Mance said. "Craster was despicable. The free folk may lack laws, but we don't marry our daughters. The gods wouldn't tolerate such behavior, and sure enough, he met his end."

"Did you notice," Samwell asked, "that Craster's Keep had no other men?"

"Craster was possessive of his wives," Mance said. "He wouldn't share them with other men."

"And what about his sons?"

Mance frowned, realizing something was amiss.

Samwell said, "Not long ago, a patrol led by the former Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, Jeor Mormont, stopped at Craster's Keep. As a result, a conflict broke out between the two sides. Have you heard about this?"

"Yeah. Someone violated guest rights."

"No, someone has discovered Custer's secret."

"What secret?"

Samwell said: "This guy Custer has more than ten wives. He marries the daughters he gives birth to, but what about the sons he gives birth to?"

"Kill them?"

"Craster gave his sons to the White Walkers," Samwell revealed.

"For what purpose?" Val asked, her brow furrowed.

"How do you think the White Walkers reproduce?" Samwell countered.

Val's eyes widened in realization.

"You mean they transform Craster's sons into White Walkers?"

"It's possible," Mance admitted, though he quickly added, "But why only Craster's sons? Most free folk are descended from the First Men. Why wouldn't the Walkers take other children?"

Samwell's voice grew somber.

"Mance, do you know Craster's family name?"

"I've heard he's the descendant of a deserter from the Night's Watch," Mance replied.

"And you?" Val asked, staring at Samwell curiously. "Do you know who he was?"

Samwell didn't answer. Instead, he gazed southward, his expression darkening.

Although separated by only a Wall, the North and South seem like two different worlds.

"The Others were transformed from the First Men, but perhaps not all First Men could be turned into Others," Samwell said. "Caster marrying his own daughter was probably to keep the bloodline pure."

"Which bloodline?" Val's curiosity grew stronger. "What is Caster's last name?"

"I don't know either," Samwell shook his head. "Just some guesses."

Thinking of the strange things in the crypts beneath Winterfell made Samwell's heart heavier.

Connecting this to the origin of the Others and Val's speculation about "going home," his concerns about a certain possibility grew stronger.

After a long pause, Samwell finally spoke.

"Mance, we may have our differences, but we share a common goal: defending the Wall. I need you to send a trusted force to Winterfell. If anything unusual happens…"

"You don't trust the Starks?" Mance interrupted sharply. "Are you saying Craster might have Stark blood? That the White Walkers need Stark lineage to transform their kind?"

Samwell remained silent, but his expression said everything.

Mance took a deep breath, carefully considering the possibility. His expression grew more serious.

"The Wall was built to defend against the White Walkers. Given how unusually quiet they've been recently, it seems likely they can't force their way through the Wall. But if they have an accomplice south of the Wall..."

"Eddard Stark would never betray me," Samwell interrupted. "Nor would any living member of House Stark. But the dead…"

"What?" Val laughed, though her amusement was short-lived. "You think the dead could rise again?"

Isn't raising the dead precisely what the White Walkers are known for?

"I've been to the crypts beneath Winterfell," Samwell continued. "Something about that place feels… wrong. I can't send my own men to Winterfell—it would risk alienating the Starks. So..."

"So you want me to send my people instead," Mance concluded.

"Yes."

Mance snorted. "No wonder you decided the free folk who wouldn't kneel should be settled in the Wolfswood. It's conveniently close to Winterfell, which makes it easier for you to station soldiers to monitor the Starks, doesn't it?"

Samwell didn't deny it. He gave a slight nod.

"Fine. I'll handle it," Mance said. "But what about your forces? Are you really relying solely on the Night's Watch and us free folk to hold the Wall?"

"The vanguard should be arriving soon," Samwell replied. "They're bringing a significant supply of dragonglass weapons, and I'll ensure your people receive a share of them."

"That's good," Mance acknowledged, though his tone remained skeptical. "But what about your main army? I've heard you've amassed two hundred thousand troops in King's Landing. When will they march to the Wall?"

"That depends on the situation," Samwell admitted with a sigh. "Mobilizing such a large force to the Wall would consume enormous resources. Winter is here, and food is already scarce. Unless the Wall faces a full-scale invasion, I can't justify moving them."

Mance pressed his lips together, clearly dissatisfied, though he ultimately nodded in reluctant agreement.

"Fine. But if you suspect the Starks might pose a threat, shouldn't the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch be replaced?"

"There's no need," Samwell said firmly. "I trust Eddard Stark."

Val arched an eyebrow. "You trust him enough to gamble the fate of humanity on it?"

Samwell smiled faintly. "Just as I trust you."

Val fell silent, though her striking blue eyes remained fixed on him.

---

The iron lift creaked to life again, drawing their attention.

The three turned to see the man they had just been discussing—Eddard Stark, Lord Commander of the Night's Watch—emerge and stride toward them.

Eddard noticed their strange looks but didn't ask about them. Instead, he handed a letter to the king.

"Your Majesty, a message from King's Landing. It bears the seal of the Hand of the King."

Samwell took the letter, broke the seal, and read its contents. At first, he smiled, but the expression quickly gave way to a frown.

Val, unable to contain her curiosity, asked, "What's wrong?"

"My queen has given birth to a princess," Samwell said as he tucked the letter away.

"That's wonderful news!" Val exclaimed, her face lighting up.

Both Mance and Eddard joined in offering their congratulations.

"And alongside the princess, a dragon egg was born," Samwell continued, his tone darkening. "But it has been stolen."

The other three immediately grew serious, their brows furrowing.

Samwell thought for a moment before speaking.

"I must return to King's Landing. Lord Stark, I'm leaving the defense of the Wall entirely in your hands."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Eddard replied without hesitation.

"One more thing," Samwell added. "I'd like to bring Bran Stark with me. Would that be possible?"

"Bran?" Eddard looked startled. "Why do you wish to bring him to King's Landing?"

"I've grown quite fond of Bran," Samwell said with practiced ease. "And I believe King's Landing might be a better environment for him than the Wall."

Eddard thought of his crippled son. He understood that Bran's path as a knight was forever closed to him. Perhaps life at court would provide new opportunities for his boy.

Bowing low, Eddard said, "Of course, Your Majesty. It is an honor for House Stark that Bran has earned your favor."

(End of Chapter)