“Your king wants to see ?” Lynd frowned slightly as he regarded the envoy standing before him.
Even before eting this wildling ssenger, Lynd had already surmised that he could not be from one of the tribes that had sworn allegiance to him. That left only one possibility—the Wildling King.
What surprised him, however, was the ssage itself. The envoy had co to tell him that the Wildling King, Hamir, wanted to et with him.
The power structure of the wildling tribes was loose, entirely centered around their leaders. A strong leader could make a tribe formidable, but if sothing happened to that leader, even the mightiest tribe would crumble in a short ti.
For Hamir to have risen as the wildling king of the northeastern Red Mountains, he had to be more than just brave—he had to be intelligent. And if he was intelligent, he would surely recognize the danger of eting Lynd.
Yet he had still sent an envoy to arrange the eting. Did the wildling king have absolute confidence in his own strength, or was he simply arrogant?
“Yes, the chieftain will et with you alone, Ser Lynd, at Lake Handle, three miles from here. I believe you will not be bringing anyone with you,” the wildling envoy stated with grave seriousness.
Lynd ignored his words and instead summoned the officer stationed at Gale Tower. Once the officer arrived, Lynd inquired about the location of Sword Handle Lake.
“It’s easy to find. It’s at the end of the path outside the camp,” the officer replied. “It’s not very big—just a slightly larger pool of water.”
Lynd nodded and dismissed the officer before turning back to the envoy. “And how does your king guarantee that he will go to Lake Handle alone?”
The wildling envoy replied calmly, “Just as you cannot guarantee that you will go alone, our chieftain cannot either. It depends on which of you is the more trustworthy.”
Lynd studied him with interest. “Your words and mannerisms do not resemble those of a wildling.”
The envoy straightened with pride. “My teacher was Duren, a maester with profound knowledge. He lived among the wildling tribes for over ten years to study their history, and he taught everything I know.”
“Maester Duren? Studying the history of the wildling tribes?”
Nyria, who had been sitting quietly nearby, suddenly sat up, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “Does this Maester Duren have a birthmark the size of a seal on his face?”
“Yes, Lady Nyria. My lord, do you know him?” The envoy looked at her, puzzled.
Nyria did not answer imdiately. Instead, in a detached tone, she asked, “What happened to him?”
The envoy sensed no warmth in her voice and felt a prickle of unease. Still, he answered truthfully, “He is dead. He was killed in a sneak attack a few years ago.”
“Already dead? That’s a relief for him.” Nyria let out a cold snort.
Lynd frowned slightly. “Did this Maester Duren have a grudge against you?”
Nyria’s expression was heavy as she replied, “Before Maester Yves, this Maester Duren was my mother’s advisor. He was the one who sold her to that man, and when she needed help the most, he stole everything she owned. My mother—the Lady of Tumbleton—could not even afford treatnt and eventually died of illness. All because of him.”
Though her face remained expressionless and her tone flat, the hatred in her words was unmistakable.
The wildling envoy, too, felt the weight of that hatred. Beads of sweat ford on his forehead as he began to regret revealing the source of his education. What he had intended as proof of his distinction now felt like a grave mistake.
At that mont, he realized he might be in trouble.
"You don't need to worry. I won't take out my hatred for Maester Duren on you." Nyria looked at the visibly nervous Wildling envoy. As his tense expression eased slightly, she continued, "However, Lord Lynd has no intention of accepting your Wildling King's invitation because we do not trust him. If your king wishes to et Lord Lynd, then he should co himself—we can guarantee his safety."
"In that case, how can we trust you?" the Wildling envoy asked, his concern evident. He seed wary of the possibility that any bla might fall upon him.
"You’ll simply have to take a chance on whether we keep our word," Nyria responded bluntly. "And let remind you—it is your Wildling King who seeks an audience with Lord Lynd, not the other way around. If anyone needs to take a gamble on trust and integrity, it is you."
The Wildling envoy hesitated for a mont before turning to Lynd. "Lord Lynd, is this your decision as well?"
"Yes, it is," Lynd confird with a nod, then cast a glance at Nyria. He had to admit, he was both surprised and impressed by her handling of the situation.
"I understand. I will relay your ssage to our chieftain as you wish." The envoy offered no further argunt and promptly stood to leave.
As the Wildling envoy disappeared into the distance, the presence of Glory, which had been lingering in the shadows over the past two days, also faded into the depths of the camp.
Once the envoy was gone, Nyria turned to Lynd, curiosity flickering in her gaze. "What do you think Wildling King Hamir wants from you? Could it be that he was intimidated by Dacey and the others wiping out thousands of Wyl soldiers in just two days and now wishes to submit to you, like the other Wildling tribes?"
"It doesn’t feel like that," Lynd said, shaking his head. "It must be for sothing else… Maybe they want permission to pass through the Boneway and move west into the desolate mountains. As I recall, that land is unclaid, aning they wouldn’t be under any lord’s authority if they settled there."
Nyria considered his words before nodding. "That does sound possible. If that is the case, would you allow them to go?"
Lynd's response was imdiate and firm. "No. I have my own plans for that land. Once this territory is secured, I intend to expand into the Red Mountains and claim full control. There is no reason to let anyone else take a share." A faint smile crossed his lips as he added, "Besides, while the Wildling King’s tribe may seem formidable, they are already within my grasp. If I wish to eliminate them, it wouldn’t be difficult. There’s no need to let them go."
Nyria frowned slightly. "And if he does co to et you in person?"
Lynd hesitated, his fingers tapping lightly against the table. "Then he is a man of courage," he mused. "If he can be brought under my rule, so be it. If not, then…"
He trailed off abruptly.
At that mont, his vision rged with Glory’s, and through its eyes, he observed the Wildling envoy reaching a grove beyond a mountain corner. There, over two hundred Wildlings had gathered.
Among them stood a towering figure, nearly as tall as Lynd himself, gripping a massive mace studded with iron thorns. But what stood out most was not his size or his weapon—it was the thick layer of brown hair covering his entire body, including his face, leaving only a pair of piercing eyes visible through the wild tangle.
Compared to the others clad in various animal pelts, this figure appeared even more primitive, yet the surrounding Wildlings displayed deep reverence toward him. There was no doubt—this was the Wildling King, Hamir.
Lynd couldn't help but feel a trace of admiration. For this man to command such loyalty and lead so many so close to their camp without making a sound was no small feat.
Though he had accounted for potential ambushes when establishing the camp at Gale Tower, an attack of this scale could still cause trouble for the sentries.
Even as he considered reinforcing surveillance with additional hidden scouts, he continued watching through Glory’s eyes, studying every move the Wildlings made.
He saw the Wildling envoy approach Wildling King Hamir and repeat Nyria’s words. The Wildling King himself did not appear annoyed, but the warriors surrounding him reacted differently. Their faces twisted with insult, and they raised their weapons, shouting to make their anger clear.
Wildling King Hamir rebuked them in a language Lynd did not understand, though he caught the strong Dorne accent in the words.
The uproar died down instantly at the king’s command, though resentnt still burned in the warriors' eyes. Their indignation had not lessened, but they did not dare to disobey.
Once the group had quieted, Hamir himself fell into thought. He stood in silence for a long mont, considering the envoy’s words.
Then, after what seed to be a decision forming in his mind, he spoke a few short sentences.
Imdiately, his closest warriors tried to dissuade him. Their words and gestures made it clear that they did not agree with whatever he had decided. From their actions alone, it was easy to tell that these two hundred Wildlings were not just ordinary fighters but Hamir’s most trusted inner circle.
Yet, despite their loyalty and persuasion, Hamir shook his head. His decision was made.
He gave his warriors a series of instructions, speaking with particular emphasis to a few of his most feral-looking subordinates. His words were sharp and direct, ensuring they understood the orders given. He did not move on to other matters until he saw them nod in agreent.
Only then did he step forward, leaving the rest behind as he and the envoy walked out of the forest, heading toward Gale Tower Camp.
Once the Wildling King was gone, the more unruly of his warriors imdiately began stirring the others into unrest. Frustration simred among them, their aggression barely contained. But before they could escalate, they were stopped by others in the group. Even so, their anger did not dissipate easily. Furious, they vented their emotions by hacking at the nearby trees with their axes, splinters flying as they struck again and again.
Lynd, observing all of this through Glory’s vision, made a quick decision. He assigned Glory to continue monitoring the Wildlings and to alert him at once if they made any suspicious movents. Satisfied that surveillance was in place, he withdrew his consciousness, his vision snapping back to reality.
Nyria, who had been waiting nearby, imdiately noticed the shift in his expression. "Has Glory found anything?" she asked.
Lynd’s response was simple. "We have guests. Prepare salt and bread."
Wildling King Hamir walked toward the camp, an unshakable sense of unease nagging at him. He knew that he could not turn back now. If he did not take this step, his long-held ambition would remain forever out of reach.
As he reached the entrance to the camp, his eyes fell upon one of the servants already waiting there, holding salt and bread.
Realization struck him instantly.
He was being watched.
The thought imdiately led him to the Skinchangers.
His own tribe had once possessed an old Skinchanger, a man who could inhabit ravens and use them to spy on enemies. That advantage had been invaluable—until the day the old Skinchanger scread in agony and died, just monts after possessing a raven. The loss had been devastating. Without him, Hamir had been unable to monitor the other tribes as he once had, leaving him in the precarious situation he now faced.
Rembering this, he glanced around, searching the sky, the trees, any vantage point from which a creature might be watching.
But there was no raven. Nothing unusual at all.
Though the realization left him unsettled, he did not dwell on it further. There was no point in searching for a spy he could not see. Instead, following the envoy’s guidance, he moved forward, took the offered bread, dipped it into salt, and ate it.
The guards and servants at the gate watched in stunned silence.
They had heard of the Wildling King, but none of them had expected to see a man covered head to toe in thick brown hair, his entire face hidden save for a pair of piercing eyes. Shock paralyzed them even as he passed.
Asha and Brienne, however, did not react in the sa way. Unlike the others, they rely glanced at Hamir before turning to lead the way toward Lynd’s tent.
Hamir was no stranger to such reactions. He had lived his whole life under the scrutiny of others, their stares filled with curiosity, fear, or unease. The expressions of the servants and soldiers here were nothing new.
But Asha and Brienne’s reaction was.
Their lack of surprise—that was abnormal.
"Aren't you two afraid of seeing ?" the Wildling King couldn't help but ask, his curiosity piqued.
"Why be afraid? You just have more hair on your body," Asha replied, her expression filled with disgust and disdain.
"Glory is much more terrifying than you," Brienne added without hesitation.
As they spoke, the group arrived at Lynd’s tent. Asha lifted the curtain, motioning for the Wildling King to enter on his own, while she and Brienne remained stationed at the entrance.
Inside the tent, Nyria was montarily taken aback by the Wildling King’s appearance. But her surprise was fleeting, and she quickly regained her composure. Lynd, in contrast, showed no reaction at all, treating Hamir as if he were no different from any other visitor.
Hamir noticed this and was equally surprised by their lack of a response. He almost wondered if he had t these two before—only people familiar with him would refrain from reacting to his appearance. However, he knew this was not the ti to dwell on such thoughts. Pushing aside his doubts, he stepped forward toward Lynd and Nyria and introduced himself.
"My lords, I am the leader of the Stone Mountain Tribe and the Wildling King Hamir, elected by the Red Watch Clan. I presu you have heard of my na."
Lynd studied the Wildling King for a mont before giving a slight nod. "I have indeed heard of you. You’re already sothing of a legend in the northeastern Red Mountains. After all, you seem to be the first Wildling King to appear in this region in many years."
"I can hardly be considered a legend in the presence of the Chosen One," Hamir responded, his voice carrying the distinct accent of Dorne.
Lynd did not entertain further pleasantries. "What did you co to see for? Surely, it isn't just to exchange complints," he said bluntly. "You should be my enemy. Once I finish inspecting my territory and solidify my control here, I intend to eliminate every force that stands in my way. That includes bandits—and your Wildling tribes. You should already be well aware of this. So why risk your life to et with ?"
Hamir remained calm in the face of Lynd’s directness. Without hesitation, he answered, "I have co to offer you Wyl Castle."
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