Faced with Shen Mo’s question, Blackhand thought for a moment before answering, “All counted, there should be fifty-some people, though fewer than twenty are young men.” Shen Mo nodded and continued, “If I sent you to gather other Wildlings, how many could you bring back for me?” “I…
I’m not sure,” Blackhand scratched his head.
“Though I’ve heard there’s a fellow named Mance who calls himself the King-Beyond-the-Wall.
They say many Wildlings have gone to join his command.” “Ah, Mance.” Shen Mo tapped his fingers against the tabletop.
“How many do you think he can gather?” “Probably…
a few thousand?” Blackhand thought that was already a staggering number, but Shen Mo knew that the Wildling host Mance could rally was massive—a force ten thousand strong, numbering up to a hundred thousand including camp followers.
Even accounting for exaggeration, tens of thousands were guaranteed.
Seeing Shen Mo’s thoughtful expression, Blackhand hesitated before speaking up, “If you could perform that…
magic from before in front of the other Free Folk, my lord, I don’t think anyone would refuse to join your command.” Performing magic merely to recruit Wildlings was hardly a worthwhile trade for Shen Mo.
He assumed that the natural magic reserves of this world recovered at an extremely slow rate, meaning that casting spells on different battlefields would essentially be a finite resource.
He needed to conserve it.
Furthermore, he didn’t believe displaying a few spells would make those Wildlings offer their absolute loyalty.
He had no use for fanatics blinded by flashy spectacles.
“I will give you a squad of troops.
Go and gather as many of the Free Folk as you can.” Shen Mo shifted his phrasing, no longer addressing them as Wildlings.
“Tell them that under my protection, they will no longer have to worry about food or safety.
They can wear fine, comfortable clothes, eat delicious food, and no longer need to spend every day dealing with snow and wild beasts in the forest.” “If they agree, bring them here.
If they refuse, kill those who object.” Shen Mo’s tone took a sharp, cold turn.
Blackhand lowered his head in fear, hastily voicing his obedience.
When he finished, Shen Mo turned his gaze toward Logan, who sat uncomfortably beside them.
Logan was deeply shaken.
Not only had this man constructed a city in the lands north of the Wall, but he was also planning to gather the Wildlings.
What did he intend to do once so many Wildlings were brought together?
It couldn’t possibly be that this man had been struck by a sudden wave of charity and simply wanted to feed all those Wildlings, could it?
Logan dared not pursue that line of thought any further.
“As for you, Ranger Logan.” “I am here, my lord.” Logan did his best to project humility.
“No need to be nervous.
I am here to discuss a partnership with you.” “A partnership?” “Correct.” Shen Mo picked up a small chest from beside his feet, placed it on the table, and gestured for Logan to come closer.
Logan cautiously stepped up to Shen Mo’s side and watched as Shen Mo opened the chest.
“This is…” “Silk.
I assume you recognize it.” Inside the chest lay neatly folded rolls of silk, of varieties Logan had never seen before—though truth be told, he had rarely laid eyes on such costly luxuries to begin with.
“My lord, what is the meaning of this?” “These are samples.
I need you to take them back to the Wall and hand them over to your Lord Commander.
Tell him…
a lost trading convoy from Cathay wishes to conduct business with the kingdoms to the south while easing the burden on your defenses.” “…That’s all?” “That’s all.” Logan’s eyes shifted.
He felt something was off.
“My lord, I am a ranger.
As you must have heard from Will, our duty is—” “I don’t care what you say after you return.
I only ask that you deliver the message I’ve entrusted to you clearly.
Beyond that, you are free to do as you wish.” Shen Mo raised a hand, stopping Logan mid-sentence.
“May I make a request?” “Speak.” “Can I take that White Walker back with me?
If I do, the Night’s Watch will have sufficient proof to convince the other kingdoms.” Shen Mo looked at Logan, seeing the desperation in the ranger’s eyes.
However, he would not allow Logan to take back that White Walker whose limbs had been severed.
He knew that turmoil would soon engulf the Seven Kingdoms south of the Wall, and that this unrest would persist for a long time.
Shen Mo needed to leverage that time to expand his own strength.
As for the Wall itself?
He didn’t even need to consider how to breach the Wall from the front.
With enough time, he could build Sky Lanterns and fly his forces straight over it.
Of course, all of that depended on having a sufficient workforce.
“You can forget about that,” Shen Mo said, taking a sip from his teacup.
“The only thing you’re taking back is this chest—and, of course, those items over there.” Shen Mo pointed toward a sack sitting nearby.
Logan walked over and opened the sack, discovering that it was packed full of bundled spices.
In a place like this, there were spices?
Astonishment filled Logan’s eyes as he glanced at Shen Mo, only to find the master of the hall sitting there as calmly as ever.
“If your superiors are willing to help facilitate trade with the south, bring someone who can make decisions back to see me.
Understood?” “Understood.” *** Shen Mo personally saw Logan off.
Mounted on his horse, Logan looked back at Shen Mo, who was waving to him from atop the gatehouse.
A sense of surreal unreality surged deep within his heart.
With the sack of spices and the chest of silk samples secured to either side of his saddle, and stocked with rations and water, Logan embarked on his journey back to the Wall.
Once Logan’s silhouette vanished into the forest, the smile on Shen Mo’s face faded away.
“Go.
Shadow him.” As his command fell, an Onyx Crowman soared into the sky from behind Shen Mo.
Black wings flapped, and the Onyx Crowman swiftly disappeared into the clouds.
“I need to accelerate our pace,” Shen Mo murmured, rubbing his forehead.
Relying on mere words would not persuade many Wildlings, and Mance, the King-Beyond-the-Wall, was unlikely to submit to his authority willingly.
In that case, a battle was inevitable.
By crushing his enemies in a swift, overwhelming display of force, he would establish an image of invincibility among the Wildlings, making any subsequent decrees far easier to enforce.
Shen Mo organized the limited intelligence he possessed regarding the land of Westeros.
If he remembered correctly from the original story, the Night’s Watch had maintained a working arrangement with a certain Wildling north of the Wall.
A fellow who had taken a whole horde of wives.
What was his name again?
Cra…
Craster?
Shen Mo opened his eyes and looked up at the gray sky.
When the Onyx Crowman tracking Logan returned, the plan would commence.
Before that, he would send word to locate the exact position of that man named Craster.
With a flick of his cloak, Shen Mo turned and walked down the gatehouse steps.