Chapter 496: The Wildlings Kneel

The tunnel within the Wall was narrow and winding, and many of the wildlings—whether too old, sick, or injured—moved painfully slow.

Eddard Stark frowned as he gazed out at the seemingly endless line of wildlings, a black serpent winding its way beyond the Wall.

"Your Majesty, it will likely take two to three days for all the wildlings to pass through the Wall. We need to set up defenses outside to prevent another attack from the White Walkers."

"Good. Make the arrangements," Samwell replied. "Be sure to gather plenty of firewood and other flammable materials. The wights fear fire."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

After Eddard left, Samwell observed the wildling horde for a moment longer before turning to the others.

"How much food do we have in Castle Black?"

A brief silence fell over the group before Steward Eddison Tollet stepped forward, presenting a scroll to the king.

"Your Majesty, this is the inventory from three months ago..."

Samwell accepted the scroll, skimmed it, then fixed Edd with a long stare.

"Take me to the storerooms."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

The two descended from the Wall via the iron lift. Eddison fetched a torch and led Samwell into the underground passages of Castle Black.

Known as the "wormways" by the Night's Watch, these tunnels were pitch-dark and maze-like. It is of little use in the summer, but when the cold winter wind blows, this becomes the most convenient and safest passage between buildings.

At the same time, this is also the best storage space.

Their footsteps echoed as they walked through the narrow wormways, until they reached a junction where four tunnels met. There, they encountered the storehouse keeper, Vic.

After bowing to the king, Vic retrieved the keys hanging from his chest and unlocked the heavy oak door of the first storeroom.

"Your Majesty, this is where we keep oats, wheat, barley, and barrels of coarse flour."

Samwell stepped into the storeroom and took a sweeping glance. The large room was packed to the rafters, with onions and garlic hanging from the beams.

Vic then led the king to another storeroom.

"This one is for vegetables—carrots, dried peas, potatoes, apples, and pears."

"And this one," Vic continued, opening another door, "is for meat. Beef, pork, mutton, cod—all frozen solid. We also have some hams and smoked sausages."

"This room holds spices, nuts, and olives…"

Samwell inspected each storeroom silently, his expression unreadable, which made the others uneasy.

Finally, after they had seen everything, Eddison hesitantly ventured,

"Your Majesty, as you can see, Castle Black is well-stocked with provisions."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Vic chimed in. "Thanks to the bountiful harvest of the long summer and the generosity of the lords, our supplies should sustain the Night's Watch for three years."

"But what if we include the wildlings?" Samwell asked.

"The wildlings?" Eddison frowned. "Surely they don't expect us to feed them?"

"Most of them won't need us to," Samwell replied. "I'll send those willing to become subjects of the Seven Kingdoms south to the Stormlands. The ones who refuse to kneel will be sent to the Wolfwood, where they can hunt and forage for their own survival.

However, I plan to keep around seven to eight thousand wildling warriors here to help defend the Wall. Their food will need to come from the Night's Watch."

"Seven to eight thousand?" Edd's jaw dropped. "If that's the case, we'll be down to nothing but turnips and oatmeal within five months. After that, we'll have to drink horse blood!"

"Horse blood isn't so bad," Vic quipped, attempting to lighten the mood. "There's nothing like a warm cup of horse blood on a freezing winter night. Maybe with a sprinkle of cinnamon on top."

"People will get sick, Your Majesty," Eddison ignored Vic, turning back to Samwell. "Soldiers need proper nutrition during wartime, or they'll start losing teeth and bleed from their gums.

If you permit, I suggest we immediately implement a winter rationing system. With careful planning, we could stretch our supplies a bit further.

But the best solution would be to request aid from King's Landing."

He looked at Samwell expectantly.

The King did not disappoint him.

"King's Landing will, of course, send support," Samwell assured. "Before I left, I ordered supplies and dragonglass weapons to be prepared. They will be shipped to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, where you can send men to collect them."

"That's excellent news!" Eddison exclaimed. "With your help, we can handle as many wildlings as needed."

"Don't get complacent," Samwell warned. "It's not just the wildlings—troops from King's Landing will also arrive to support the Wall. And they'll need food, too."

"How many soldiers are you sending?"

"The vanguard consists of seven thousand men. The scale of subsequent support will be adjusted according to the situation of the Wall. That's why Castle Black's food supply is critical." Samwell paused. "How often do you inventory your stores?"

"Every six months."

"That's too long. From now on, conduct inventories every month. And start a new count immediately."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Samwell then left the warehouse and returned to the surface.

When Samwell emerged back above ground, the sun was already low in the sky, casting long shadows. The overcast sky looked like tattered banners of gray and white.

"It's barely past noon, and it's already getting dark," Samwell remarked.

"Yes, Your Grace," Eddison replied. "Since winter arrived, the days have grown shorter and the nights longer. Some say the sun may one day stop rising altogether, ushering in an eternal long night for Westeros."

Samwell stared at the dim sunset in silence.

---

Three days later, the wildlings had finally crossed the Wall. During that time, there had been no sign of White Walkers or wights.

However, a new group arrived at Castle Black—Bran Stark and his companions, returning from their journey to the lands beyond the Wall in search of the Three-Eyed Raven.

Eddard Stark was overwhelmed with emotion at seeing his son again. Robb Stark and Jon Snow were equally elated, hoisting Bran into the air and shouting at the gates.

Bran, however, remained calm. Though he smiled, it was clearly a polite smile, not one of genuine joy.

Eddard and his sons, caught up in their reunion, failed to notice. But Samwell, watching from the sidelines, saw it all clearly.

And he knew why. Bran Stark was the chosen heir of the Three-Eyed Raven.

Samwell's suspicions deepened as he recalled the Three-Eyed Raven's mysterious interference during his encounter with Euron Greyjoy at Blackwater Bay. He felt that the other party might have some plan

After the Stark's finished their emotional reunion, Samwell approached.

"Your Majesty," Bran, seated in a basket on Hodor's back, lowered his head. "Please forgive me for not kneeling."

"No need," Samwell said, waving it off. "Why didn't Brynden Rivers come with you to the Wall?"

"Brynden Rivers?" Jon Snow exclaimed. "The bastard son of Aegon IV? The Bloodraven? He's still alive?"

Jon, himself a bastard, had once admired the legendary figure, even considering him a role model.

"Yes and no," Bran replied. "Brynden Rivers couldn't have lived so long. He's now part of the weirwoods, existing between life and death, unable to leave the caves of the far north."

"Why did you go to see Brynden Rivers?" Eddard asked.

"It's a long story, Father. I'll explain later," Bran deflected. Turning to Samwell, he added, "Your Majesty, the Three-Eyed Raven wanted me to warn you about the Horn of Winter."

Robb immediately agreed,

"Yes, Your Majesty. I also think it is not a good idea to let the wildlings keep the Horn of Winter. If they blow the horn and cause the Wall to collapse..."

"They will not blow the Horn of Winter casually," said Eddard.

"Remember, they are now south of the Wall just like us. If they blow the Horn Of Winter, what do they have to stop the White Walkers?"

"But this is still a hidden danger," Jon Snow also spoke up.

"If I could, I would want to retrieve the Horn of Winter too," Samwell shrugged helplessly. "Unfortunately, our previous plan went awry because of the White Walkers' appearance. The Queen Beyond the Wall was particularly perceptive and noticed my unusual behavior, hiding the Horn of Winter.

Now that they are on guard, finding the Horn of Winter won't be so simple."

"I can find the Horn of Winter," Bran Stark said with certainty.

"You?" Eddard looked at his son with a doubtful gaze, "How do you know where the Horn of Winter is hidden?"

"The gods opened my eyes, Father, allowing me to see what ordinary people cannot."

Samwell did not doubt this.

The "Three-Eyed Raven" could be said to have a sort of x-ray vision, so knowing where the Horn of Winter is located was not surprising.

"Can you retrieve the Horn of Winter?" Samwell asked.

He was actually not at ease with letting the wildlings keep the Horn of Winter; who knew if they would suddenly go mad?

"At your service, Your Majesty." Bran placed his left hand on his chest and said respectfully.

"Very well, I look forward to your surprise." After Samwell finished speaking, he turned and left, allowing these fathers and sons to catch up.

Eddard frowned and asked, "Bran, are you really confident you can retrieve the Horn of Winter?"

"Of course, Father." Bran's left eye flickered with a blood-red glimmer, "Though the gods took away my legs, they gave me a third eye."

Eddard Stark stared blankly at his son, finally feeling a strong sense of unfamiliarity.

For a moment, he didn't know whether to be happy or worried about Bran's change.

The next morning, Samwell stood in Castle Black's great hall, holding the massive Horn of Winter.

Thanks to Bran's abilities, the horn had been found and retrieved from the wildling.

When Samwell arrived at the castle hall, the wildling leaders, led by Mance Rayder, were confronting the Night's Watch officers.

The atmosphere was colder than a winter wind.

"Samwell Caesar!" Mance shouted, his eyes focused on the huge horn that the king was carrying."You broke your word!"

The Horn of Winter.

Yes, Bran Stark did find the place where the wildlings hid the Horn of Winter, and stole it and presented it to Samwell.

"How so?"

"You promised we could keep the Horn of Winter!"

"I did," Samwell replied calmly. "But you've proven incapable of safeguarding it. To prevent catastrophe, I had no choice but to retrieve it. And now, I will destroy it."

Golden flames erupted in his hand, engulfing the horn.

"The Horn of Winter?" Samwell said, "No, it should be called the Horn of Darkness. If the Wall falls, the Long Night will follow. Humanity will face extinction!

I will never let that happen!"

"No!" Mance Rayder was so frightened by Caesar's words that he watched the horn being engulfed in flames without being able to speak out to dissuade him.

Perhaps, deep down, he too hoped the horn would be destroyed.

The flames were still swirling, wrapping the Horn of Winter in golden silk. The intricate golden patterns melted in the fire, and a chilling aura suddenly spread.

Everyone involuntarily took a few steps back.

In the end, the horn was completely reduced to ashes in the golden flames.

Samwell stood alone on the ashes, facing the people in the hall, transformed into a figure with golden hair and golden eyes.

An even more grand and magnificent divine aura flowed through the hall, evoking an impulse of reverence from the depths of everyone's hearts.

"The Long Night is approaching, and the ancient evil is awakening," Samwell said in a cold and grand tone. "Men and women, old and young, the people of the Seven Kingdoms and the wildlings beyond the Wall, the fate of all humanity will be tested.

At such a time, only I can lead you to overcome the Long Night and welcome an endless summer.

Mance Rayder, and the leaders and chiefs of the tribes beyond the Wall, my previous promise still stands.

As long as you are willing to kneel before me, you can become my subjects."

"I will provide you with food, shelter, and protection, asking only that you work for me, pay taxes to me, and kneel before me.

For those unwilling to kneel, you may temporarily reside in the Wolfwood. Once the Long Night ends, you can return north of the Wall and continue your carefree lives.

Now, make your choice.

Embrace the light or retreat into darkness!

Choose me, or choose death and ignorance!"

As soon as he finished speaking, golden flames surged around the king, swirling and circling like massive golden dragons.

The overwhelming heat surged through the hall, completely dispelling the chill of winter, making it seem as if midsummer had arrived at the Castle Black.

This scene sent a chill through everyone, and they no longer found the King's earlier arrogant words so objectionable.

If anyone could lead humanity to defeat the Long Night, it might only be this King of the Seven Kingdoms.

The first to kneel before the King was Styr the Magnar, the leader of the Thenns. Next came the Rattleshirt, clad in armor made of bones and leather that clinked as they moved. Then two clan chiefs of the Hoornfoots came forward to kneel before the King. Then came an old witch revered by the wildlings along the Ice River Clans, the chieftain of the Crow Hunting Tribe, and even a giant who approached the king with heavy steps, prostrating himself and speaking in a language no one else understood, his loud voice shaking the wooden hall.

More and more wildling leaders knelt before Caesar.

Whether out of genuine respect or a reluctant submission for survival, they would become the subjects of the Seven Kingdoms.

But there were also many wildling leaders who stood aside, unmoving.

They resisted the terrifying pressure emanating from Caesar, stubborn and resolute.

Finally, Mance Rayder stepped forward on their behalf and asked:

"Caesar, what about those who do not wish to kneel? Will you still..."

"Go to Wolfswood." Samwell said, "You will still be free. But you must send no less than one-tenth of your tribe's population to guard the Wall."

"Alright."

(End of Chapter)

[TL: Cuking tired with these long chapters. I bet you guys are enjoying it though.]