Early the next morning, Lynd parted ways with the elven White Walker, Peinan. Over the course of the night, Peinan had taught Lynd how to use carriers of the Ancient Bloodline as bait. Lynd also picked up some additional ancient knowledge from him, particularly the use of sacrificial stone tablets and the runes associated with them.
At no point did Lynd inquire about Peinan's status among his own kind. However, based on Peinan's ability to use the holy coffin, the garments he wore while lying inside it, and the profound knowledge he possessed, it was clear that his position was extremely high—perhaps even second only to that of the White Walker Queen.
Lynd could sense that Peinan was still hiding many secrets, such as how to kill the White Walker Queen. Yet despite the omissions, he was certain that Peinan's desire to destroy the White Walkers was genuine.
Even so, Lynd had no intention of staking everything on Peinan, no matter how confident Peinan seemed about his methods to bring down the White Walkers.
Lynd had already decided that there was no need to alter his own plans. He could carry out Peinan's method in parallel with his own. If either succeeded, it would only work to his advantage.
After leaving the Fist of the First Men, Lynd did not return to the Wall but instead headed east toward Storrold's Point.
At that moment, Stannis had already pushed the Free Folk coalition back to Hardhome at the tip of Storrold's Point. Mance Rayder's plan to cross the sea had collapsed due to the intervention of Lynd's secret fleet from Skagos. Now, the Free Folk coalition was cornered with nowhere to run.
Lynd judged that the situation had reached its tipping point. It was time to bring the Free Folk tribes under his control.
Although Stannis was capable of handling the integration himself, competence alone did not guarantee success. Given Stannis' rigid and inflexible style, there was a far greater risk of him ruining the process than carrying it through smoothly.
To avoid such a disaster, Lynd decided to handle it personally. Once the matter of the Free Folk was settled, he planned to head straight to Braavos to deal with that lingering threat.
Flying at full speed over the Haunted Forest, Lynd crossed the distance in about an hour before spotting, in the distance, a sprawling array of military camps covering the hills. Rows of checkpoints and wooden barricades completely sealed off the routes leading from Storrold's Point to the outside world.
Well-equipped Night's Watch warriors bustled through the camps, bonfires blazing to drive away the chill. Flags representing different castles along the Wall were planted throughout the encampment.
Farther away, the Free Folk's own camps sprawled across the hills. They outnumbered the Night's Watch by a wide margin, but their overall equipment was vastly inferior. Most Free Folk warriors carried nothing more than sharpened wooden sticks and polished stone axes, wearing crude garments of animal hide and bark that offered little protection.
Judging by the situation, the Free Folk had likely mobilized every warrior from every tribe, preparing for one last desperate attempt to break through the blockade.
There was no doubt that Mance Rayder understood staying put at Hardhome meant certain death. Better to fight while they still had strength than to wait passively for annihilation.
However, Stannis was a seasoned commander. He easily saw through Mance Rayder's intentions and knew that when the enemy was eager to act, the best course was to hold fast and wait. So, when Mance Rayder pressed for a decisive battle, Stannis chose to fortify and delay, bleeding the Free Folk's strength instead.
The corpses littered around the Night's Watch fortifications made it obvious that the Free Folk had launched several fierce assaults. Yet, thanks to his deep experience in siege defense, Stannis had repelled each and every one.
At this rate, unless the Night's Watch turned on itself, there was no chance for the Free Folk coalition to turn the tide.
Their supply situation was dire. Within a day or two, they would run out of food. Once starvation set in, morale and combat effectiveness would plummet.
Moreover, despite Mance Rayder's title as King-Beyond-the-Wall, he actually commanded relatively few loyal followers. Most of his forces were made up of allied tribes. While such alliances held firm in victory, defeat would cause them to unravel swiftly. When that happened, Mance Rayder would likely become the scapegoat for the wrath of the tribal chiefs.
Mance Rayder was undeniably a man of great talent. In a short time, he had risen from a Night's Watch deserter to King-Beyond-the-Wall, managing to unite so many tribes that had long been enemies. Such ability would rank among the best even in the Seven Kingdoms. Losing someone like him would be a true waste. Thus, Lynd's journey was not only for the sake of the tribal warriors but also for the talents that Mance Rayder's coalition represented.
Lynd made no effort to conceal his movements, flying directly over the Night's Watch camp. Thanks to the clear skies and lack of snow, not only could the Night's Watch clearly see him, but so could the Free Folk tribes on the opposite side.
A wave of commotion spread through both camps as everyone instinctively looked up at the figure soaring overhead.
The Night's Watch quickly recognized Lynd by the distinctive armor he wore. One after another, they dropped to their knees, shouting, "Long live His Grace, Lynd!"
In the Free Folk camp across the way, many wildlings also fell to their knees, praying as if in the presence of a god. Those who remained standing wore expressions of shock, and a few even screamed in panic, as though they had seen a monster.
Inside a tent where Mance Rayder and various tribal leaders were discussing their next move, the sudden uproar outside made them fear the Night's Watch had launched a surprise attack. Grabbing their weapons, they rushed out, ready to rally their warriors.
But they quickly realized their mistake. All eyes turned upward to Lynd, who was descending slowly over the Night's Watch camp. Although most of them didn't know exactly what connection this mysterious being had with the Night's Watch, the cheers rising from the camp below made it clear enough—this god-like figure was likely reinforcements for the Night's Watch. Already disheartened by the state of the war, the Free Folk leaders now felt their hopes dim even further.
"Lynd Tarran!" Mance Rayder, who had spent days in close contact with Lynd, immediately recognized him by the unique design of his knightly armor. In that instant, he understood—there was no longer any chance of turning the tide.
Back at the Fist of the First Men, Mance had personally witnessed Lynd unleash godlike power, annihilating White Walkers and wights alike. Lynd had already been as mighty as a god then, and now, after so many years, Mance could not even begin to fathom how much stronger he had become. All he knew was that the army under his command could not possibly hope to defeat the Night's Watch led by Lynd.
"Is that the Storm God?" asked Tormund Giantsbane, standing beside Mance, his eyes following Lynd as he disappeared into the Night's Watch camp. Hearing Mance's words, he posed the question for confirmation.
The other tribal chiefs turned to Mance as well, waiting for his answer.
"Yes, he is the Storm God," Mance Rayder said after glancing around at them, letting out a sigh and nodding heavily.
Immediately, fear swept across their faces, wiping away all the bravado they had shown earlier when they had been shouting in the tent about fighting the Night's Watch to the bitter end.
Several years earlier, the worship of the Storm God had spread beyond the Wall through smugglers from Braavos. Given how often devastating blizzards struck Beyond the Wall, fear of such storms had only hastened the spread of the Storm God's faith, making it the dominant religion among the wildling tribes in a short span of time.
Take the tribal chiefs gathered around Mance, for example—at least half of them were Storm God believers, and the rest were loose followers.
They had heard the rumors that the Storm God was none other than Lynd Tarran, and they knew well who Lynd Tarran was. Before the battle with the Night's Watch, they had considered whether Lynd might intervene in the wars Beyond the Wall. Their conclusion had been that it was impossible.
After all, in the past several hundred, even thousand years, no southern lord had ever intervened in conflicts Beyond the Wall. At most, they had provided supplies to the Night's Watch but never troops, and certainly never come personally to fight.
Moreover, when they had received their intelligence, the Seven Kingdoms in the south were embroiled in civil war. The lords' attention was entirely focused on their own conflicts. No matter how chaotic things got Beyond the Wall, they wouldn't spare a thought for it.
Based on this judgment, they had believed they had a real chance to cross the Wall and escape south, and so had united to launch their war.
Now, however, they realized they had been completely wrong. Lynd Tarran had come Beyond the Wall, descending into the Night's Watch camp before their very eyes like a god. If even the tribal chiefs felt fear and dread at the sight, how could the ordinary tribal warriors hope to stand firm?
Under such circumstances, once Lynd led the Night's Watch army onto the battlefield, it would be a miracle if even half of the Free Folk warriors still had the will to fight.
"Let's go. Back to the tent," Mance Rayder said to the surrounding tribal chiefs. "If I'm right, it won't be long before Lynd Tarran comes to our camp to persuade us to surrender. We need to discuss..." He paused, sighed, and added, "how to surrender with dignity."
"Surrender? We still have so many warriors—we can still fight!" shouted a tribal chief clad in bronze armor, stepping forward in protest.
"Enough, Stid. Enough," Mance Rayder said in a low, firm voice. "The army of wights that drove you from Thenn to the Haunted Forest crumbled before him like wild grass. How do you plan to defeat someone like that?" As he spoke, he gestured around them. "Do you see anyone here who will stand with you and fight?"
Stid, the leader of the Thenns, looked around at the other tribal chiefs. None met his gaze; each turned away. Even the fierce Rattleshirt chose silence. There was not a trace of fighting spirit left in the tent. Confronted with this reality, Stid too fell silent.
...
While Mance Rayder and the others discussed how to handle the upcoming negotiations and secure the best possible terms for their surrender, Lynd had already arrived at the Night's Watch council tent, where Stannis and most of the senior rangers were waiting. As soon as they saw Lynd, they all stood up and bowed respectfully.
The rangers addressed him as "Your Grace" naturally, but Stannis hesitated, finding it difficult to call Lynd by that title. It was clear he had not yet fully accepted that the Tyrell dynasty had replaced the Baratheons.
Lynd, however, paid no mind to Stannis's reluctance. He walked straight to Stannis's seat, sat down, and said to the others, "Sit down, everyone. This is wartime—there's no need for all the formalities. You know me, and I know you. There's no point wasting time on introductions. Let's get straight to the business at hand."
At his words, everyone took their seats. An attendant quickly brought over a chair for Stannis and placed it beside Lynd.
Lynd looked around at the gathered officers and said in a steady voice, "I'll soon be heading to the Free Folk camp to persuade them to surrender. This war against the tribes Beyond the Wall will soon come to an end. After that, we'll need to focus on settling the Free Folk within the Gift."
One of the officers, clearly worried, spoke up. "Your Grace, isn't it too dangerous for you to go directly into the Free Folk camp?"
"Don't worry," Lynd said with a smile. "If I really end up dying in the Free Folk camp, well, you can all just surrender."
For a moment, everyone stared at him in stunned silence, then realizing he was joking, they all burst into laughter.
Everyone except Stannis, that is—he remained stone-faced, unmoved by the humor.
Lynd raised a hand to quiet the room again, his expression turning serious. "Even though the war with the Free Folk is ending, it doesn't mean you can relax. A far greater war is about to begin—against the White Walkers and the wights."
He then recounted everything he had seen in the Land of Always Winter, without holding anything back or softening the truth.
When the men heard that the army of wights could number in the millions—possibly even tens of millions—their faces turned as pale as ash. Just a few years ago, the wars they had fought involved only a few thousand men. Now, the enemy's numbers had swollen to incomprehensible levels. The sheer scale of it filled them with a deep and gnawing despair.
Had anyone else told them such a story, they would have dismissed it as madness. But it was Lynd who spoke—and none of them doubted a single word.
The air inside the tent grew heavy, tense, and suffocating. There was no longer any illusion that they were standing on the brink of victory.