Chapter 46 – The Plan
The smile faded from Jory's face. Confusion replaced it.
"White Walkers? What do you mean, Ser Saelen?"
"It's true, Jory," Robb said solemnly. "We saw them with our own eyes."
His gaze shifted toward the corpses scattered across the snow.
"We need to burn the bodies."
Though doubt lingered in his expression, Jory did not argue. He immediately ordered the riders to gather the dead together. Oil and kindling were piled high, and soon a torch was set to the heap.
Flames roared upward, devouring flesh and cloth alike, blazing fiercely against the pale wilderness.
Only after the fire was fully ablaze did Jory lead Saelen and the others away.
---
Eddard Stark and Lord Commander Jeor Mormont had already received word from the outriders. They stood outside the command tent waiting.
"Lord Stark," Jory said as he dismounted, stepping forward to report briefly on what had transpired.
Eddard nodded. "You've done well, Jory."
Jory bowed and withdrew.
Eddard then looked toward the approaching figures—Robb and Saelen.
For a moment, the stern lines of his face softened. He stepped forward and embraced them both in turn.
"Father."
"Lord Eddard."
"You've returned safely," Ned said quietly. "Your mother will be relieved beyond measure."
Benjen removed his helm, revealing his altered features. Though surprise flickered in Ned's eyes, he embraced his brother warmly all the same.
After a few brief words of greeting, they entered the command tent.
---
"Lord Eddard," Saelen began, "Jory mentioned you intend to march for Craster's Keep."
"Yes," Ned replied. "The Lord Commander and I agreed. We would first seek news of you there. If none was found, we planned to continue on to the Fist of the First Men and establish a forward outpost—gather intelligence on the wildlings while searching for you."
Saelen shook his head.
"There's no need."
"Craster is dead."
The words fell heavily.
"He was offering male infants to the White Walkers. I executed him myself. Robb and Benjen were present—we saw the Walker come to collect its tribute."
"Craster's Keep has already fallen," Saelen continued gravely. "It's occupied by White Walkers and a host of wights. They could begin tracking us at any time. Lord Eddard, I strongly advise we withdraw to Castle Black immediately."
"White Walkers…" Ned murmured, exchanging a look with Lord Commander Mormont. "Do they truly exist?" His voice carried uncertainty.
"It's true, Father," Robb said firmly. "They've returned. We've faced them ourselves."
Benjen, Qhorin Halfhand, Ser Rodrik and others all spoke in confirmation. Not only had they encountered the Walkers—they had fought them more than once.
Faced with so many firsthand witnesses, Ned and Mormont could no longer dismiss the ancient terror as mere legend.
Ned frowned, thinking it through. Robb, Saelen, and Benjen had been found—that alone fulfilled the chief purpose of his expedition. He was inclined to agree with a retreat.
But Mormont raised another concern.
"What about the wildlings? They are gathering to attack the Wall."
"Lord Commander," Saelen replied steadily, "the wildlings are the lesser concern now. The White Walkers are the enemy of all living men. If we are to survive, we must unite every human force against them."
He continued, "We've located the wildling host. We've even met the King-Beyond-the-Wall, Mance Rayder. We've already begun negotiations."
Saelen then detailed the proposed terms.
Ned's expression darkened. Cooperation with wildlings? Opening the Wall? Granting them land and food? Even if the Night's Watch agreed, half the northern lords would fiercely oppose such a measure.
"Alliance with wildlings? Letting them through the Wall?" Mormont said in disbelief. "Qhorin, you support this?"
Qhorin Halfhand answered solemnly, "Yes, Lord Commander. Had you faced the White Walkers yourself, you would too."
Benjen added, "It sounds mad at first—but it is necessity. If we refuse them entry, the wildlings beyond the Wall will inevitably be slaughtered and raised as wights. Imagine it—hundreds of thousands of tireless dead gathering outside Castle Black. Could we withstand that?"
"An army of the dead that feels no pain and cannot be slain by ordinary steel…" Ser Rodrik said quietly. "We would not last."
"You've slain White Walkers before," Ned said, puzzled. "How?"
"Yes," Saelen replied. "Only Valyrian steel and dragonglass can kill them and their servants."
He went on:
"Valyrian steel is exceedingly rare—only a few hundred blades exist across the Seven Kingdoms. Noble houses treat them as priceless heirlooms. Unless we sack their castles and seize them by force, they will not part with them."
"As for dragonglass—obsidian—it is brittle. It can be forged into daggers, spearheads, arrowheads. But such weapons break easily. They are nearly single-use. The consumption rate is enormous. The dragonglass arms we carried are already spent."
As he spoke, Saelen drew a dragonglass dagger and snapped it in two with his hands.
The crack echoed softly in the tent.
Ned examined the broken blade. Effective—but fragile. A warrior would need several at a time. Once broken, he would stand helpless before the cold.
"Obsidian…" Ned murmured. "There should be deposits on Dragonstone."
Saelen nodded. "Yes, my lord. I sent word to Lord Stannis regarding this. Dragonstone has yet to respond."
"I will write to Robert," Ned said decisively. "The Small Council must authorize mining operations."
Then he fixed Saelen with a steady gaze.
"And you are certain the wildlings will honor this pact? If we open the gates and they betray us?"
"Mance Rayder is no fool," Saelen replied. "If the Wall falls, the wildlings will not fare better. We will provide them dragonglass weapons and just enough grain to prevent starvation. The rest—they must earn by clearing and farming the Gift."
He added calmly, "And we must station sufficient forces at the Wall. Should the wildlings rebel, we will have the strength to suppress them swiftly."
Mormont spoke again. "How many men would that require? And where would their provisions come from?"
Saelen had anticipated this.
"At first, five thousand men. We divide them into three rotations.
"One division guards the Wall.
"A second clears and farms the Gift.
"A third remains at Castle Black—training and overseeing the wildlings.
"They rotate on schedule. That ensures food production while maintaining military strength."
Several men nodded in agreement.
But Mormont's brow remained furrowed.
"So the Night's Watch must not only admit the wildlings—but surrender portions of the Gift to them? I doubt my black brothers will accept that easily."
"How to persuade them," Saelen said evenly, "is a matter for when we return to Castle Black. For now, we must leave this place before the enemy closes in."
There was no further objection.
Under Eddard Stark's command, the host turned south—marching back toward the Wall, toward uncertain alliances and a colder war yet to come.