Logan was terrified of dying, and so were the Night’s Watchmen behind him.
This stood in stark contrast to the heroic legends of the Night’s Watch—men who supposedly foreswore wives, children, titles, and lands to stand vigil north of the Wall.
But those legends belonged to the Watch’s glorious past.
Today’s rangers were little more than a black-clad legion assembled from landless bastards, lesser nobles, and a sea of criminals.
Perhaps there were still brave men among them, but none were in Logan’s squad.
Faced with Guan Zimo and her Jing Sai Guard—heavy cavalry clad in armor that concealed everything but their eyes—Logan’s bow was good enough for shooting Wildlings, but against these ironclads?
Not a chance.
Especially after Guan Zimo had demonstrated her skill earlier, pinning a tree trunk through and through with her heavy lance.
Being hit by that weapon would end far worse for human flesh than for wood.
So, under Logan’s lead, the six rangers dutifully dropped their weapons, allowed their wrists to be bound with rope, and were strung together in a line.
Their horses were seized by the Jing Sai Guard, with one horse set aside to carry Blackhand and his son, Gryon, bound like tight bundles.
The remaining rangers were forced to follow the column on foot.
Capturing eight prisoners in one go—including an officer—meant the mission was essentially complete.
All that remained was returning to camp to report.
Because of the prisoners, the squad’s pace slowed considerably.
Guan Zimo looked up at the sky.
The pale, ash-gray canopy was darker than before.
They certainly wouldn’t make it back today.
“Make camp here.
We’ll spend another night out.” …
Dry branches crackled and popped in the bonfire, sending showers of sparks drifting up into the cold night sky.
An iron pot sat rigged over the flames, filled with bubbling meat and vegetable broth.
Beside it, over a second fire, another pot steamed with fresh rice.
For the armies of Grand Cathay, ample logistics had always been the key to maintaining formidable combat efficiency.
Imperial quartermasters did everything in their power to ensure the soldiers loyal to the empire enjoyed hearty, varied meals on the trail.
Guan Zimo served herself a bowl of rice first, then ladled a generous portion of meat and vegetable broth over it.
This was her sole privilege as commander—she didn’t have to eat straight out of the communal pot with the rest of the troops.
Will received his portion as well, retrieving his mess kit from his small satchel.
“Hey.” As Will shoved a spoonful of broth-soaked rice into his mouth, a Jing Sai guard walked over and nudged him with a boot.
“My lord!” Will stretched his neck and swallowed hard.
He started to rise to offer a formal bow, but the guard caught him by the shoulder and pressed him back down.
“When you’re done eating, take the leftovers over to those men.” Will couldn’t understand the Cathayan words, but he understood the soldier’s hand gestures clearly enough.
He nodded hurriedly.
Watching the guard turn and walk away, Will gulped down the remaining mouthfuls, wiped his mouth, and walked over to the iron pot sitting in the snow.
It was the rice pot, but inside was a mixture of leftover rice and the remaining broth from the other pot.
Why hadn’t they kept them separate?
Because the soldier responsible for washing the cook pots wanted to clean one first, so he had simply dumped the remaining soup into the rice pot.
“Let them eat one at a time.
Untie their hands while they eat,” Guan Zimo said, watching Will.
This time, Will understood her words.
He nodded, picked up the pot, and headed toward Logan and the others resting against a tree trunk.
…
“Traitor,” Logan muttered as Will approached.
“I’m no traitor, Captain Logan,” Will whispered, squatting in front of him.
He set the steaming pot aside and began unbinding the rope around Logan’s wrists.
“Ser Waymar Royce, Gared, and I ran into White Walkers.
Ser Royce and Gared were killed.
These people saved me.” As the rope fell away, Will placed a wooden bowl and a wooden spoon in front of Logan.
“Lies.
White Walkers are just fairy tales to scare children.” Logan took the bowl and spoon, peering into the iron pot Will pushed toward him.
“I’m telling the truth!
I really saw one!
It killed Royce first, then cut off Gared’s head right in front of me!” “Then why didn’t it chop off yours?” Logan asked, scooping food into his bowl.
“These people saved me, Logan.
They have so many troops—more than the entire Night’s Watch combined!
Their camp is like a small city, and before we left, they were already building a castle!” Will stared at Logan, but the captain seemed entirely absorbed in the joy of eating.
Real salt, savory seasonings…
Logan could even taste black pepper in the warm rice.
“We can escape together,” Logan muttered, lowering his spoon and looking up at Will.
“Tonight, when everyone is asleep, untie the ropes.
We take the horses and ride through the night.
We can reach the Wall before tomorrow night.” Will fell silent.
“Do you think they’ll believe me about the White Walkers?” Will finally asked.
“I don’t know.
You’ll have to tell them yourself.” “Let me think about it…” Will offered no further answer.
He retied Logan’s wrists with the rope—though this time, he left the knots slightly loose.
Unlike the Night’s Watchmen, who received hot meals, the two awakened Wildlings were given only dry, hard biscuits.
Blackhand, bound tightly, swallowed the biscuits without complaint, but his son Gryon nearly bit off the finger of the Jing Sai guard handing him food.
He paid for it instantly.
The guard snapped a backhand across Gryon’s face, a blow so heavy it left the boy’s teeth feeling loose.
“No more for you,” the guard spat.
Blood dripped from the corner of Gryon’s mouth.
Bound hand and foot, the Wildling boy glared furiously at the man with his hair bound in a topknot.
“Hmph.
Tough little bastard,” the guard grunted, turning away without another glance.
Will returned to the fire, instinctively glancing at Guan Zimo.
The female commander hadn’t removed her heavy armor, only taking off her helmet like the rest of the troops.
Will had been terrified that Guan Zimo had overheard his conversation with Logan.
Seeing no reaction on her face, the knot in his stomach eased slightly.
He really was considering Logan’s proposal…
but should he really do it?
Will didn’t know why he hadn’t agreed right away.
He had sworn a solemn oath on the Wall; he belonged to the honorable Night’s Watch.
The crackle of flames devouring dry wood sounded almost like a lullaby, weighing his heavy eyelids down.