CH-8: Wildings Raid

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"Father told me, it takes time to write a book and if you have to write it again, many times, the Maester will become impatient with the task and write in crooked styles. So, I asked, why write by hand, why not stamp it like we stamp our letters with our family sigils ?"

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Lady Maege, who fondly recalled the amusing story, joined in.

"He said, 'We don't have enough wax to stamp a book!' I remember the look on his face when Jorah showed him his first stamped page, 'Here we stand!' That was the day I witnessed my brother losing his wits. Jorah used some black ink for that letter, I believe."

"It's just plain soot, Aunt, not some renowned ink. Just soot and plant juices. And do we lack soot in our castles?" Jorah replied with a smirk. Ah! Getting his Lord father speechless was truly a satisfaction.

"M'lord, how did you even think of it? Was it truly that simple, M'Lord?" Lady Annara asked, confused by why no other lords or the Citadel had thought of such a simple book-stamping idea.

Lord Jorah explained, "Annara, many ideas that change the world are often simple, yet no one acts on them. Just like stamping, why did no lord ever bother to create his own book of laws?

It's because as people grow older, they close their minds and their thinking becomes as solid as the rocks beneath us. That's why I'm starting a learning class in the castle."

"I thought it was another gift for our army. Men and women will learn to fight while their children learn numbers within the castle," Lady Maege added thoughtfully.

"For now, it is for the army. But later, once we initiate this process, I will construct new buildings where all the children of the islands will receive daily education. These buildings or schools as I like to call them Newton, will be our copy of Citadel.

I don't want these kids running around all day, wasting their time on rocks and rivers. It's better for them to attend school and learn these things. When they reach their fourteenth nameday, they will learn swords and spears and be incorporated into the army. Imagine an island full of men and women, skilled in both swords and pens," Lord Jorah spoke with a gleam in his eyes.

"That's a splendid idea, my love. However, my mother always told me that my brother, Ronald, had a stubborn mind, and no matter what our Maester tried, he couldn't break through the rocks in his head," Lady Annara jested.

"Who knows? This is a test, for them and for our future," Lord Jorah mused.

While the three engaged in conversation, the sound of bells resonated throughout the castle. Tory rushed into the room, wearing a worried expression.

"Lord, a group of wildlings has been spotted on the frozen shore. They are coming for us!"

"Aunt, you mentioned that our army can defeat the knights of the south. I believe it's time to put those words to the test," Lord Jorah declared.

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"Thud!"

"Thud!"

"Thud!"

Warriors stood in formation, forcefully clashing their swords and shields together. The resounding sound sent shivers down their spines, igniting their bloodlust and suppressing their fears.

Lord Jorah, adorned in full metal armour, gripped the Valyrian steel sword, Longclaw, and held a rectangular shield large enough to shield his entire body.

"Take cover!" Jorah commanded as arrows rained down from the sky.

The soldiers swiftly raised their shields, drawing closer together to form a solid shield wall, seeking refuge until the barrage of arrows ceased.

Lowering his shield, Jorah saw the scene—a vast wildling army, mostly dragged by dogs on sledges made from bones. Their shouts were reminiscent of the pigs on the island, moments before a butcher stabs it and cuts it open.

As the wildlings drew nearer, dismounting from their sledges and attempting to charge with the same momentum, the Mormont warriors remained unyielding.

"Shield Wall!" Jorah roared, and half the soldiers rushed forward, forming a formidable shield wall in a straight line. Meanwhile, Jorah and the remaining soldiers positioned themselves behind the shield wall.

The wildlings fiercely crashed into the shields, their attempts to break through thwarted by the unwavering Mormont soldiers who counterattacked, slashing their way through the enemy ranks.

"Maintain formation! Stand your ground!" Jorah commanded, awaiting the perfect moment. And it arrived, when a towering wildling, accompanied by his dogs and sledge, aimed to plough straight into the shield wall.

Jorah seized the chance.

"Open!"

The soldiers swiftly created gaps in the shield wall, disrupting the balance of the charging wildlings and those behind them, triggering a domino effect. Wildlings tumbled over one another, creating an advantageous situation for the Mormont soldiers, who effortlessly stabbed these fools.

Then, before other wildings could take advantage, the gaps were quickly closed, trapping the main wilding army inside with warriors ready with their swords.

It was a one-sided massacre for the fools who always used to fight a war with the strength of their numbers. Once, a simple strategy came into play, they became easy pickings for the army.

The towering wildling remained oblivious to the fate of his mates and charged towards Jorah, but before he could react, Jorah lunged forward, his sword slashing through the air.

In a single fluid motion, Jorah delivered a top-left to bottom-right cut, cleaving the towering wildling in half, leaving him bewildered as to his sudden demise. The dogs halted their run, and the sledge came to a stop.

Valyrian steel sword, sharper and lighter than all metals and with enough power, it can cut through any armour. Let alone a mere man, wearing nothing but rags.

Jorah and his comrades advanced toward the approaching wildlings, swords clashing against stone axes, shields colliding with bare bodies, and trained soldiers engaging in combat with the wildlings. Despite the wildlings' strength and ferocity, the swords sliced through their ranks indiscriminately.

"Slash!"

"Stab!"

"Thud!"

"Smash!"

The bear soldiers butchered the wildlings like the pigs they were, and it became apparent to the wildlings that they were losing the battle. Their raid had failed, and death loomed unless they do something.

"With me!" a loud cry erupted from the wildling ranks, as a warrior and four companions charged straight at Jorah, who was fearlessly slaughtering their brothers.

"You, a kneeler, will die here!" the man bellowed, attempting to unnerve Jorah. Yet Jorah remained unfazed by the coward's words.

Taking his stance, Jorah lunged forward, deflecting a spear thrust from the right with his sword, evading an axe descending from above, and using his shield to pummel the wildlings on his left. He swiftly manoeuvred, severing the legs of the wildling in front of him and stabbing the one to his right.

With his shield positioned to fend off the remaining wildlings' axes, Jorah's blade sliced through their waists in a circular motion.

"Stop! We surrender! We surrender! Stop!" a woman from the wildling group shouted, bringing the battle to a halt. When the soldiers ceased their attacks, only a few wildlings remained standing, mostly young boys who had likely followed their fathers or uncles on their traditional raids.

"Drop your weapons!" Jorah commanded as he approached, his armour splattered with blood, his gleaming sword shining against the dark frozen ground. The army promptly made way for their king, and the wildling woman observed the man who removed his helmet.

"I said, throw away your weapons!" Jorah shouted angrily, prompting the woman to panic and cast aside her axe.

The group of young boys, clad in tattered leather, followed suit. They were not cowards, but witnessing the brave warriors from their tribes dying without even putting up a good fight, made them realise the gap in their skills.