CH-9: Capturing The Frozen Shore

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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.

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"Stephon... Tie them up. Count their numbers and arrange for the injured to be taken back to the Maester. The rest of us will proceed to their tribe. Tonight, we will bring an end to this tribe that has dragged on for generations!"

Jorah issued the command, his voice resonating loudly and startling the wildling woman.

"No... Please, no. There are only children left in the tribe. They haven't done anything wrong. I beg you, don't attack our tribe."

She pleaded, her voice choked with tears. The captured wildling boys stood there, filled with shame and fear. They dreaded these merciless attackers reaching their tribe, for no one would shield their mothers and children.

Every warrior had gathered here, their entire group that could fight, and now only a handful of them remained.

"You attacked. You pillaged. For generations, you brought chaos. Now, it is time for retribution," Jorah declared, dismissing the wildling woman's pleas. Stephon forcefully dragged the prisoners and wounded warriors back to the boats, while the rest of the army pushed forward.

Jorah and his comrades stumbled upon abandoned sledges in the snow, and without a word spoken, the loyal dogs eagerly darted ahead, pulling the sledges along. The biting wind finally subsided, calming Jorah's restless mind as he gazed upon the small village before them.

He had every reason to cut down every person there and end the war that had persisted for generations. However, mindlessly slaughtering children and women was not a war.

"Ahhh!"

"Kneelers!"

"Run!"

As the dogs drew closer to the village, its inhabitants realized that these were not their own people approaching. Instead, they saw their enemies, donned in gleaming metal armour and brandishing swords and shields.

Chaos erupted within the village, and women hurriedly gathered young boys and girls, while older women armed themselves with weapons made from large bones and stood in front to protect them.

Jorah singled out an elderly woman, the one holding a bone spear, and addressed her sternly, "Do you truly believe you can stop my men with these weapons and your people?"

"Take a good look, for once I give the order, they will slaughter every woman, child, and even the dogs. Now, drop your weapons, surrender, and I, Jorah Mormont, Lord of Bear Islands, promise not to harm your people or attack this village."

"We won't kneel!"

"We are free men!"

"Go back, you butchers!"

Many young children, barely seven or eight years old, voiced their defiance, but the women around them swiftly silenced their mouths.

"Consider this your final warning. Drop your weapons, or I will make you drop them. It will be senseless bloodshed but if needed, I will cut you today and ask forgiveness tomorrow from the Old Gods."

The women inside the village reluctantly threw down whatever weapons they held, prompted by a signal from the older woman.

"There. We are now defenceless, Lord Jorah Mormont. Are you planning to cut us down, or would you rather force your justice between our legs?"

"My men are not rapists like you wildings. They are soldiers. If anyone of them has broken the law, he will face consequences."

Jorah spoke, raising his right hand to signal the army to halt, while he alone entered the village.

"Do you enjoy standing out in the snow, or shall we discuss the future of your people?" Jorah asked, and the old woman, who had run out of options, followed him into their village.

It was nothing more than a makeshift settlement constructed from dried branches, bones, mud, and stones. It was worse than he had imagined. Somehow, this group of people had managed to create and survive in this village for generations, enduring the bone-chilling winter and harsh conditions.

Finding a large, clean stone, Jorah seated himself upon it, while the old woman simply sat in the snow before him. Most young women attempted to hide inside their broken homes and watch the scene from small openings.

"I suppose you are someone important in the village when the men are away?" Jorah inquired.

"I am Kazdak's spearwife. Well, I guess I 'was' since you all arrived."

"If Kazdak was the tall man leading the army on the bone sledge, then I suppose you are correct. You no longer have a husband. Now, tell me, do you have children? Because there are a few children who surrendered."

"You killed my husband and now sit before me on a high stone. You must be very proud."

"No, killing you wildlings don't bring me honour or happiness. It's simply killing of men and women who refuse to live honest lives, addicted to looting and pillaging.

Just like killing some wild hogs who threaten people out there in the woods. Nothing less and nothing more. Just beast hunting. "

"Humph. Words spoken by men who reside in lofty castles and green lands."

"Tell me, what would it take for your tribe to move to the island? I must put an end to this mindless war that has spanned generations."

"We won't kneel! We are born as free men and women. We don't fight or serve any southern lord!"

The old woman spat out her words angrily.

"Not even when soldiers stand outside your tribe, armed with swords and shields still dripping with fresh blood?"

"If we kneel today, we become slaves tomorrow, enduring a slow, painful death every day for the rest of our lives. It's better to die in a single day."

"There are no slaves in Westeros!"

"Those who serve their lords like dogs and fight like raging winter bulls are slaves and nothing more. Why else would they fight someone else's war? Why else would they obey your commands? You say sit, and they sit. You say eat, and they eat. And you say die, and they die. That is a slave, no matter how I see it."

Jorah was momentarily taken aback. In this medieval, magical world, there were individuals with such elevated thinking that differed greatly from the rest of the world.

"So, you consider yourselves free people? Really? Then why did the men of your village followed their leader to attack my lands?

There must be some, young boys or someone who must be afraid of dying out there. No? Or are you telling me that all those men wished for this great raid and not a single one opposed it?"

The woman fell silent at this remark. It was true they were "free" men, but how could a village exist without a leader? Furthermore, all the villagers must follow the leader. That was the harsh reality.

If the leader decided to raid, everyone had to comply without complaint. Unless one could kill the leader or defeat them and assume command, they could not establish their own rules.

"No arguments? I suppose you aren't as free as you claim to be, and you are willing to follow a leader if it guarantees food and safety. That's also the offer I present. Moreover, my lands have laws, strict enough to maintain order and ensure no innocent person suffers unjust harm."

"I'll give you time to think and decide what you wish to do. I won't massacre you or your people, but if you choose not to follow me, then you must vacate these lands. I will not tolerate wildlings in my backyard, harassing my people any longer."

"Are you from Bear Castle?" The old lady attempted to gauge Jorah's words and authority.

"As I said before, I am Jorah Mormont. The Lord and rightful ruler of the Bear Islands. Old woman, you have a choice to make, and I shall leave you to it."

Jorah left the village, having spoken about what needed to be said. It was time for the women to make their decision: either relocate to the Bear Islands or seek shelter in the frozen lands or assistance from another tribe.

Jorah waited outside with his soldiers, discussing the future plans for the village with the other soldiers. This location was strategically significant for their safety, and they needed to leave guards behind.

After nearly an hour of heated debates, cursing, shouting, and even crying within the village, a procession of women and children emerged.

Jorah noticed a few elderly women missing from the crowd, including the old lady with whom he had conversed earlier. He ventured back inside and discovered their lifeless bodies lying there on the very stone he had been seated on.

"My Lord, the wildling women are requesting that we burn the bodies of the men we killed. They say it's their tradition."

"Aye! Attend to it. It shall be their final wish as free wildlings. Let us not dwell on it."

Jorah gave the order, and their entire army, save for a small group of twenty men, departed from the icy shore with the women and children who had chosen to follow them back.

This marked the first time in history that the Bear Islands had managed to destroy an entire tribe of wildlings that had attacked them. While there were still other tribes in the area, this would send a powerful message and make them reconsider their raids.