Chapter 136: Doubts
Trudging through the snow, Mance rested one hand against the trunk of the tree, feeling the cold, frozen bark against his skin as he looked up towards the Wall. A massive structure of strange beauty, it was a shimmering blue, looking much more enrapturing than the dull grey colour it could appear as, the sunlight shining down upon it.
An impressive sight to behold.
The final obstacle between him and the south, between his people and safety.
Yet now it was more defended than ever before, thirty thousand men lining its walls and ensuring the impossibility of his goals. However, Mance could not retreat, could not fall back because there was nowhere else for him to go.
The creatures that lived here, the monsters that watched them and waited, were here and growing closer. If he could not go beyond the Wall and to the south, his people, the Freefolk would be slaughtered. There was no option for him other than to go south and the time to do so was fast approaching and yet, the Wall still stood in his way.
Stannis Baratheon remained there with his army and every day, news reached him of Freefolk clans that had not surrendered to him, going to the Wall and being invited in. They surrendered not to him, but to Stannis Baratheon.
Why he did not know?
But Mance knew that Stannis' numbers had grown, by how much he was uncertain. He had seen the bodies lining the bottom of the Wall, the thick base littered with bodies that had been thrown from the top or dumped beyond the gates. Each of them were Freefolk, each of them dead and not at the hands of weapons.
Something else had killed them, but what he did not know?
Whatever it was, the Wildings that went to Stannis ended up dead of mysterious circumstances. It was why Mance was hesitant to not do the same, he had agreed to help Jon Stark and his brother, the King, but the longer they waited, the greater the risk they faced. The Others, he knew they were coming, a hundred thousand Freekfolk were under his command and such a force was tempting for them.
If they didn't go south soon, his people would be the next to be killed and Mance would not allow that to happen. However, the longer he waited, the more desperate his situation became and the less Mance knew about what to do.
There was some good news, Robb and his army had arrived in the North, approaching Winterfell. That meant they were no more than a few weeks away from the Wall, but whether they could take the Wall, Mance was uncertain. He knew better than most that the defences of the various keeps and castles lining it had been destroyed save those to keep the Freefolk out. However, Mance also knew the foundations were still there and that Stannis had been working to rebuild them.
With other Freefolk clans joining him, Stannis' army of thirty thousand could have swelled to an even larger number. How many they numbered now was uncertain, but what was, is the fact that taking the Wall will be even more difficult.
Mance now had a decision to make, did he keep on the course he was on now, or change it?
-X-
"The army of Robb Stark has entered the Barrowlands." The report continued, Stannis looking out over the courtyard as his soldiers continued their daily training. Once they were common civilians who had barely seen a sword let alone wielded one, young men that had only ever heard tales of battle. Now they were trained soldiers, fanatically loyal and each a follower of the one true god, R'hllor.
"How many?"
"Overall, your grace." The young man hesitated, Stannis turning to look at him out of the corner of his eye, a firm request. "...Seventy-five thousand." He bowed his head, Stannis dismissing his apology as he turned to look back out at the courtyard.
Seventy-five thousand men was a truly large number.
Even with the reinforcements of the Wildlings, he was still heavily outnumbered by the Starks. His defences were also not near completion, even in the few weeks, it would take for Robb Stark to reach them, the chances of them being able to complete everything in time was small.
"Order the men stationed at Karhold, Last Hearth and Northern Mountains to hold their positions," Stannis ordered. "They are to buy as much time as they can by holding out, fighting to their last breath. R'hllor will bless them with strength and their sacrifice shall earn us victory in this war."
The young man bowed his head but hesitated to leave.
"What is it?"
"The Wildlings, a number of the newer clans are discontent with the tasks they have been given."
"Rebuilding the walls of the southern fortifications is vital to defending the Wall and defeating Robb Stark. Even if it kills them, they must continue to work and build these defences stronger." Stannis responded calmly. "But if they insist on refusing, make an example of a few, sacrifice them to R'hllor. They should serve to bless the others with the strength to finish the task."
"Yes, your Grace." The young man bowed, turning on his heel and leaving.
"Seventy-five thousand men is a truly large number." A man spoke from the side of the room, a man with a thick neck and strong jaw, and red teeth revealed to the world as he spoke. "I am interested to see how the ancient Ghis magics hold up to the armies of King Robb Stark."
"The boy is no King." Stannis snapped, turning to look upon the man, the red-dressed woman pausing as she wandered around the room. "Just a traitor and he shall suffer a traitor's death."
"Nonetheless," the man continued. "The defences shall be tested, I wonder if they can hold."
"You are blessed by R'hllor, Maester Marwyn." The red-haired woman spoke, her voice was alluring and enchanting. "The Lord of Light will guide us to victory and see the Wolf King defeated and Azhor Azhai victorious as was foretold."
Marwyn hummed. "Yes, well, it will be tight." He said. "We are running short on lime and ash, key ingredients to the alchemical recipe I'm using. If we want to finish the fortifications of the keeps we have in time, we will not only need more of those but also more workers. Perhaps, you could once again venture to the land Beyond the Wall and convert more Wildlings to your religion. And arrange a new shipment with your supporters from across the Narrow Sea. Unless you would like to see weakness in your defences that can be easily exploitable."
Stannis grit his teeth, glaring at the Archmaester who remained calm as he smiled amicably. With a wave, Stannis dismissed Marwyn who bowed and left, leaving Stannis alone with the red-haired woman.
"Though he is not a believer, Marwyn is not wrong," Melisandre spoke. "Without those fortifications finished, victory will be the Wolf Kings, not yours."
"Even you call him king?"
"Because he is one," Melisandre replied. "But not the one true king. That is you, I have seen it in the flames. The crowned wolf impaled upon the antlers of the burning stag. That is the vision I have seen."
"It is different," Stannis noted. "Your vision has changed."
"Only the contents, but the result is the same," Melisandre said. "You are destined to win, to lead Westeros as Azhor Azhai against the forces of the Great Other."
"And yet, it was Robb Stark's destiny to die, the flames showed you that, did they not?" Stannis questioned, Melisandre going silent. "He was destined to die to lions, to blue towers, to flayed men, to krakens and to dragons. Yet he still lives and is stronger than ever, how do you explain that?"
"...Robb Stark's survival is unforeseen," Melisandre admitted, but her gaze was firmed. "Yet there is more than one way to ensure victory. One you have already done before and can do again."
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