Farwinter, currently the northernmost town in Westeros, is the Land of Extreme Winter. It is a satellite town built by Rhaegar for the wildlings, and its ownership still belongs to Rhaegar. The town is composed of black walls, black roads, black houses, and banners with a black dragon on a silver field, which represents the colors of House Targaryen, clashing with the white and blue of the North's ice.
"This gives me a feeling of 'My World,' with its crazy infrastructure!" Rhaegar was very satisfied with Farwinter. Farwinter is a long, narrow town, nestled between Eastwatch-by-the-Sea and the Haunted Forest, about half a mile away. It borders the Wall to the south, open land to the north and west, and the ocean to the east. The coastal area has been transformed into a simple harbor for convenient material transport and entry. The wildlings also have boats, though very crude ones. They cannot pass the Wall, as the Wall has no gates; only goat paths can be traversed. Only a few tunnels pass through it. These tunnels are blocked by several layers of iron grates secured with heavy chains. Any tunnels abandoned by the castles or in times of danger are permanently sealed with ice and gravel.
"Heave-ho!" "Heave-ho!" Giants carried large stones and logs, moving back and forth. Farwinter was now a hive of activity, with wildlings from Beyond the Wall, accompanied by giants and mammoths. The strength of one giant could equal that of twelve adult men. With the giants' help, Farwinter was quickly laid out. Giants typically stand between ten and twelve feet tall, possessing immense strength, capable of bending iron bars on gates. Their bodies are covered in hair, with more hair below the waist than on the upper body.
"The trenches need to be dug deeper, and prepare the oil barrels!" Rhaegar said to Mance Rayder, the King-Beyond-the-Wall, and Lord Commander Rickard. The most urgent task was to dig deep trenches to prevent the wights from using human wave tactics. The Wall could also have a trench and moat, but the sheer scale of the project was too immense. Large drawbridges would be laid over the city gate trenches, which could be lowered. The North has no shortage of large timber.
"Take some of these dragonglass with you. Others fear dragonglass obsidian, and wights fear fire!" Rhaegar distributed the obsidian arrowheads and daggers found at the Fist of the First Men. There weren't many, but he planned to ship a large batch from Dragonstone to the wildlings and the Night's Watch later.
"Are all the wildlings here?" Rhaegar asked Mance Rayder.
"Some haven't come south with me! But I've left them a signal; they will come when the tide of corpses appears," the King-Beyond-the-Wall said.
Rhaegar thought about it. These things couldn't be forced. The wildlings were not a people who would bend the knee; they were fierce folk from the harsh lands. Now that the phoenix tree was planted, the golden phoenixes would come. Those who didn't want to come could go their own way.
"Lord Rickard, part of my forces are still at Harrenhal. After I return to Harrenhal, I will then construct a new, wide Kingsroad. Beyond the Neck, the North's help will be needed!" Rhaegar said to Rickard. Building the Kingsroad would require manpower and resources from the North.
"I will do my utmost to support the Prince's great endeavor!" Rickard said without hesitation. Winter had arrived, and he truly feared people freezing to death in the harsh winter. Now that someone was providing supplies, he couldn't ask for more. Moreover, the even more terrifying threat of the cold Others from the North loomed in the future.
"Mance Rayder, I'd like to borrow some giants and mammoths from you!" Rhaegar said to Mance Rayder, looking at the bustling construction site. Expanding the Kingsroad from Harrenhal to Winterfell, and even further to Winterfell, was a massive project. Giants and mammoths, though quirky in their own way, possessed the raw power of the Northern wilderness. They were cold-resistant and immensely strong, making them the most suitable laborers.
Mance Rayder thought for a moment, then earnestly said, "Yes, you can, but please understand, Prince, we have no people here who bend the knee. Giants are merely my allies; I can only ask for their opinion!"
Mance Rayder then stood up and went to ask the giant warriors for their opinion. Mag the Mighty was the strongest among them!
"Prince, Mag the Mighty wants to wrestle you? He'll even give you ten moves!" Mance Rayder's face showed an awkward expression.
"Let this giant come! Ten moves? Three moves are enough!" Rhaegar chuckled, such an excessive request. The Lord Commander of the Night's Watch and Lord Rickard exchanged glances, growing nervous. Dueling a giant was highly likely a death wish. Both tried to dissuade him repeatedly. They saw Rhaegar remain steady.
"Prince, if you can't, let me go instead. I'm thick-skinned!" Finally, Jon of Last Hearth said. He was seven feet tall, also the greatest man in the North.
"Thank you, Lord Jon! Watch how I defeat this rogue!" Rhaegar smiled, his carefree and handsome smile radiating undeniable confidence.
Mag, the leader of the giants, was over ten feet tall, with mottled grey and white fur.
The Free Folk, the Night's Watch, and the North's guards formed a circle, watching the Silver Dragon Prince's performance. Everyone felt a bit like they were at a tourney, a rare sight in the world. Mag was not completely muddled-headed and gave the Prince ten moves. The Northern lords, the Night's Watch, and the King-Beyond-the-Wall had all sent a large number of skilled men to prevent the situation from getting out of control.
Mag held a giant log. He had a flat, broad face, square teeth, and horn-like fleshy folds between his small eyes. Giants often had poor eyesight and frequently sniffed, using both sight and smell equally.
"Get me a log!" Rhaegar also took out a wooden staff. Mag stood still, mumbling in the Old Tongue. Giants could become very ferocious when emotional. Mance Rayder had even found three or four giants to control the situation. Giants had large, sagging chests, twice as wide as their bellies. Their arms hung lower than a human's, with long arms and short legs. Their large, fleshy feet, with nails like sharp claws, feared no cold and thus wore no shoes.
"Be careful!" Rhaegar smiled, then, staff in hand, swung it upwards! Like a silver lightning bolt!
"Mag is going to make his move too, silver-haired boy. You come, I come!" The two logs swung together in mid-air, but the giant only defended. He grabbed the giant log with both hands to block!
"Strength! What great strength! Are you a snow bear, a whale?" Mag was a bit confused, stepping back a few paces. He felt his body tremble from the impact of the staffs. "The first hit, Mag isn't afraid! Keep coming!"
"One more strike!" Rhaegar spun forward. I am silver flame; fire is passionate, fast, and so is the Dragon King. His silver hair shimmered, and the staff swung at a speed like a black line, carrying even fiercer strength. The staff made a dull thudding sound in the air, a pure contest of strength.
"My heavens!" Mag felt mountains collapsing. How could a mortal possess such strength? He felt an electric current, a powerful force pressing in from all directions, his muscles aching all over. Mag was somewhat bewildered! The giant wanted to find a chance to turn the tables but found he could only helplessly resist. Rhaegar swung his arm, his strength building wave after wave, like rolling seas. Mag retreated again and again. Giants had strength but were slow. He never expected a Dragon King with even greater strength and speed.
"Still fighting?" Rhaegar smiled, looking at the King of Giants, who had retreated to a corner tower.
The warriors watching knew their stuff. Rhaegar had no fancy weapons or armor, just the purest wooden staff and raw strength, which made it hard for the giant to contend. In this battle, Rhaegar was completely at ease, truly invincible.
"I have rarely admired anyone in my life, but I admire you! Dragon King!" Mag the Mighty dropped his log and, kneeling on the ground, spoke sincerely. A humiliating defeat, with no excuses.
"We are opponents for this moment; you don't need to bend the knee to me! You are still a proud giant, an opponent I admire!" Rhaegar helped the giant up. To be honest, without runes and magic, Rhaegar certainly wouldn't be his match. Unless he wore steel armor, wielded a sharp sword, and launched a sneak attack.
"He won!" "The Prince won!" The onlookers cheered excitedly. Whether it was the Brothers in Black, the Northern lords, or the wildlings. Even those fierce Northern barbarians dared not speak of competing now; they were savage but not fools. From this perspective, Rhaegar was still holding back. Otherwise, Prince Rhaegar in a Valyrian suit would be in full-on slaughter mode. One Stark duke was even torn apart by a giant in battle, a truly tragic end. Rhaegar dueling a giant was too fierce; he was absolutely unparalleled in the Seven Kingdoms. These were wildlings, individually the strongest in terms of raw power. Killing wildlings was often due to their poor eyesight, lack of armor, and occasional clumsiness, not through direct combat.
The King-Beyond-the-Wall, Rickard, and the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch were speechless. They seemed to be from a different world than Rhaegar; the Dragon King was a monstrous and bizarre warrior beyond mortals. Rickard felt utterly convinced of his defeat.
Amidst the cheers, the cold wind blew from Eastwatch-by-the-Sea to the even more distant Braavos.
In the temple of the House of Black and White, the servants of the Many-Faced God, clad in black and white robes, pulled down their hoods after seating themselves, revealing the face they had chosen for the day. Their high-backed chairs, like the temple doors above them, were carved from ebony and weirwood. The ebony chairs had weirwood faces carved on their backs, and the weirwood chairs had ebony faces carved on their backs.
The Kindly Man said, "Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. Fire and ice, flowing symmetrically. In any case, we cannot allow anyone to bring trouble to the world! Now, the silver flame is too rampant; it is already disrupting the balance!"
The Fat Man continued, "Perhaps we could offer the Silver Dragon the god's grace, but he would not accept it. He and his dragons have not been harmed in multiple wars; he is not like the Targaryen of old. I suspect he has the true inheritance of Old Valyria. We might even need to send out more than two servants!" The Fat Man implied the mission would be very difficult to accomplish.
A strange expression appeared on The Handsome Man's face. "The shining silver flame, I can also hear the evil scent of magic from his stories, the aura of the ancient Valyrian Dragon King of Khorne. If he refuses the god's grace and survives, then he might bring the god's grace to all of Braavos!" The Handsome Man was somewhat fearful, afraid of mission failure and war extending to Braavos.
The Kindly Man thought for a moment, "We are servants of the Many-Faced God; we accept sustenance and bestow grace. I need to ensure the grace is delivered flawlessly. The current situation is obscure; ice is awakening. I think we can find someone to release a message in Qarth. The great merchants at the world's center are resentful of the reopening of land trade routes and the dwindling of sea business. The Regretful of Qarth once sent greetings to the Silver Dragon; I think they should know the dragon's wrath. Moreover, those Warlocks and Shadowbinders will also be fascinated by the demon dragon and fire!" This idea should be good.
"Agreed!"
"Agreed!"
"But what if the Qartheen also fail?" The Fat Man couldn't help but ask.
"The balance cannot be broken. If the Qartheen fail, we will deploy multiple servants to ensure the grace is delivered!" The Kindly Man made up his mind.
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