Winter was coming, and snow fell ever heavier north of the Wall.
Blackhand spread his palm, letting a pure white snowflake land on his dark skin, where it quickly melted.
He touched the cold iron plates on his chest.
This armor, made from numerous small plates tied together—known as lamellar armor—gave Blackhand a bit more confidence for the upcoming negotiation.
Blackhand glanced at his son, Grion, who was riding beside him.
No longer clad in animal skins, Grion looked far more presentable than before.
For some reason, Blackhand even noticed an air of refined grace about Grion.
Was his son always this handsome?
Before Blackhand could dwell on it, the sound of approaching hoofbeats came from behind.
A knight clad in heavy scale armor, draped in a black fur cloak, wearing a full face mask, bearing a round shield on his left arm and holding a long-shafted blade in his right hand, rode up beside them.
The knight rode a fine steed also draped in black horse barding—though this was a real horse, unlike the wingless longma the Jingsei Cavalry rode.
“Blackhand, how much further to your tribe?” Ayush Batur, the captain of the Kheshig sent by Shen Mo to assist Blackhand in gathering his tribesmen, asked.
Two squads totaling 120 Kheshig guards were under Ayush’s command.
At the same time, Ayush was the only one who could seamlessly communicate with Blackhand and the other locals of Westeros.
“Very close.
Normally, there would be scouts posted around here.” Blackhand narrowed his eyes and looked around, spotting several trees he had personally marked.
They had arrived near his tribe’s territory.
“Then why are none of your people out to greet you?” Ayush glanced at Blackhand, his narrow eyes showing a trace of doubt.
Blackhand urged his horse forward to a spot where tribesmen should have been posted on watch.
There was a snow pit containing traces of burnt firewood.
However, Blackhand noticed something amiss—there were drag marks in the snow.
Though softened by the falling snow, Blackhand could still discern clues from the disturbed surroundings.
“My lord, something’s happened to my people!” Ayush’s brow furrowed, and he snapped his visor back into place.
“Lead the way!” “Yes!” Blackhand quickly mounted his horse, pulled the reins, and with a sharp whinny, the horse galloped toward the tribe.
…….
It had been several days since Blackhand disappeared.
Among the Wildling tribes beyond the Wall, the position of chieftain never remained vacant for long.
On the first day Blackhand and his son Grion went missing, several adult Wildlings from the tribe went out to search.
They found the spot where Blackhand, Grion, and another Wildling had been chopping wood.
The messy tracks and a corpse struck down by arrows confirmed their suspicions.
Thus, they declared that the former chieftain Blackhand and his son Grion had been killed by Crows.
After that, a split occurred within the already small tribe.
Two strong Wildling men refused to yield to each other, both wanting to become the new master of the small tribe.
Originally, the two rivals agreed to settle it with a duel, but one of them abandoned all honor.
During the night, while his opponent was fast asleep, he led his men and slaughtered his rival along with all his followers.
It was an incredibly foolish move, as this new chieftain killed nearly a fifth of the adult males in Blackhand’s tribe.
As for the remaining Wildlings, their resentment toward this newly appointed chieftain far outweighed their submission.
This was what had unfolded in just a few short days.
Right now, this new chieftain was preparing to claim Blackhand’s wife—given the living conditions beyond the Wall, the Wildling woman named Bonfire was quite attractive.
Even though she had already been bedded by two men, it didn’t stop the new chieftain from laying hands on her.
And the woman had resigned herself to her fate.
The price of resistance was death; to her, submission was the primary rule of survival.
However, just as Bonfire lay inside the fur-lined tent, her ear pressed against the hides on the ground caught a rumbling vibration.
“Haha, beautiful,” the new chieftain grinned as he slipped into the tent, still immersed in his fantasy of enjoying the woman’s body.
“Someone is coming,” Bonfire said, lifting her upper body.
“What?” “I said someone is coming.
Many people.
On horseback.” Bonfire’s expression was dead serious, but the man didn’t take her seriously at all.
“Oh~ You want to play a game with me, do you?” The Wildling grinned excitedly, peeling off his fur coat as he spoke.
“I’ll play the Crow, and you play the Wildling girl I’m chasing.
I’m going to drag you back to be my whore!” The Wildling lunged forward, only to be met by a sharp slap across his face.
“You dare hit me?!” “Sober up!
Someone is coming!” Compared to being pinned beneath a stranger, Bonfire was far more terrified of having her head chopped off.
But having been slapped, the enraged Wildling couldn’t care less about what she was saying; all he knew was that a woman had struck him.
He roared and lunged at Bonfire, grabbing her hair and shoving her to the ground.
Just as he was about to commit his next act of violence, cries of alarm erupted outside the tent.
Immediately after, the thunderous roar of approaching hoofbeats swept in.
“What’s going on?” Before the new chieftain could finish his words, the tent roof above them was violently ripped away.
The freezing air made Bonfire shiver, while the Wildling scrambled to find the clothes he had just taken off.
Knights in black armor mounted on black warhorses wove through the small settlement, shouting harshly at the panicked Wildlings and driving them into an open area.
Some Wildlings tried to flee into the nearby forest, but the sheer number of black-armored knights surrounded the entire camp.
A few tried to fight back, raising rusty swords, but a knight swept past them in the next second, striking their heads with the flat of a long blade.
“Bonfire!
Bonfire!” Blackhand rode through the camp searching for his wife, quickly spotting her inside the roofless tent.
“My gods, they said you were dead!” Seeing Blackhand dismount, Bonfire threw herself into his arms.
“I’m fine, I’m alive and well.” Kissing his wife’s cheek, Blackhand looked her up and down.
“Did they touch you?
Which bastard touched you?!” Blackhand’s rage flared up.
Releasing his wife, he pulled his axe from his belt and looked around for the bastard who had laid hands on her.