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"Two laws? What does His Grace mean by that?"
"Does His Grace mean to tax us once under each law?"
"Laws? Do the free folk have laws?"
"Of course. Whoever is strongest gets obeyed."
Robb had only just announced that the North would use two forms of rule when the Shieldhall filled with low, noisy muttering.
He waved his right hand, dispersing the ice spike in his palm, and began to explain.
"All of you understand the North's laws well enough, so I will not waste words on them. I will mainly speak of the rules for the free folk in the Gift.
"First, the free folk inside the Gift will set their own rewards and punishments. The right to enforce those rules will belong to you.
"But if a free folk steps beyond the Gift and breaks the law in the North, he will be punished under northern law.
"Likewise, if a northman enters the Gift and breaks your rules, he will be punished under the rules of the free folk.
"And yes, most of the free folk who slaughtered innocent villagers before have already been killed by my hand to uphold the law.
"With the army of the Others before us, I do not want to hear any more talk of ancient blood debts between the Night's Watch and the free folk. You have been killing one another for thousands of years. Who can still say who was right and who was wrong?
"From now on, these two laws will decide right and wrong."
His voice carried through the hall. The free folk leaders exchanged looks, and the senior men of the Night's Watch listened with rigid faces.
"Second, the harvest the free folk raise inside the Gift will pay half to the Night's Watch as tax.
"Autumn has not yet come. The North is colder than the south, but if you hurry, there is still time for at least one round of planting. With more than a hundred thousand people, every idle field in the Gift can be put to use.
"Of course, if this winter lasts too long and the harvest inside the Gift is not enough to carry you through, I will bring southern grain north and lend it to you.
"When the next long summer comes, you can repay it through farming or through labor."
Robb turned toward Mance as he spoke this second point. This part was mainly meant for him.
The commanders of the Night's Watch, who had been stiff with displeasure, eased a little.
In truth, the number of sworn brothers had grown smaller year by year. With the free folk constantly harrying them, the Gift had long since fallen empty and barren.
Robb had now taken that land by force and given it to the free folk, but half the harvest of more than a hundred thousand people would be enough to fill the Watch's bellies and leave plenty besides.
"Your Grace," Mance said, "we know little of farming. I only want to ask whether the grain left after paying half will be enough for us to survive."
He had no objection to paying part of the harvest. He only cared whether the free folk could live.
"The Gift is one of the few places in the North truly suited to farming. Even after paying half, the grain left to you should feed your people for more than a year.
"But no one knows how long this winter will last. That is why I spoke of lending you food to pass it.
"When winter ends, you may repay the debt by farming or by working for it."
Mance's question was exactly what Robb had expected, so he answered without hesitation.
"I understand. When the harvest comes, we will pay half to the crows... to the Night's Watch."
"Good. Third, when the army of the Others comes, the free folk must gather every fighting hand to resist them. We will gather every force we have and fight beside you.
"Beyond that, in ordinary times, I also have the right to call you to war for me."
Seeing Mance agree to the grain tax, Robb nodded and continued.
"Your Grace," Mance said, "the first half of that third point is no problem. But forgive us, we cannot agree to the rest.
"We came south to survive. If we answer every call to fight your wars, it will not take long before the free folk vanish into the wars of the Seven Kingdoms."
Robb gave a low laugh. He had known Mance would challenge that clause, and he had already decided to demand more than he needed so he could concede later.
"Then let us put it this way. I will not call you to war without payment. I will provide grain, equipment, coin for the campaign, and other compensation. The leaders of the free folk may judge according to the situation whether they will answer."
"We may decide whether to answer?"
Mance hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Compared with an unconditional levy, this was far easier to accept.
"Good. Those are the three main points of the free folk's law. If anything else is needed later, it can be added."
With Mance's agreement, Robb fixed the matter in place.
This journey to Hardhome had achieved what he wanted. Among these hundred thousand free folk, at least tens of thousands could become soldiers in reserve.
When the day came that he truly needed them, Robb could think of countless ways to make refusal impossible.
"That is enough for today. Mance, you may begin moving the free folk outside the Wall. For the resources you need at the start, ask Jon.
"If Castle Black cannot provide them, tell Jory. I will have him draw what is needed from Winterfell."
"Thank you, Your Grace!"
Mance thanked him loudly, and this time the gratitude was real.
The free folk still outside the Wall at least had tents and many other supplies. The tens of thousands who had fled Hardhome and come through the Wall had almost nothing.
Robb's promised supplies were exactly the help they needed at that moment.
After the meeting in Shieldhall ended, the leaders left in small groups, murmuring among themselves.
Robb called Jon back and carefully reminded him to manage the relationship between the Night's Watch and the free folk. He especially told him to keep an eye on Ser Alliser's group, and on the little boy named Olly.
Jon was distracted, with too much on his mind, and Robb could not tell how much of the warning had truly reached him.
Robb knew Ser Alliser and those men might one day betray Jon because he had accepted the free folk. Even so, he could not execute them now for crimes that had not yet happened.
Besides, the changes he had already caused were large enough. Even Ygritte had not died at Castle Black. Whether those men would still betray Jon later was no longer certain.
In the end, for safety's sake, Robb decided to leave three thousand Winterfell recruits stationed at Castle Black for the next year to ensure nothing unexpected happened there.
Once the important matters had been handled, Robb felt a rare desire to wander. With Jon accompanying him, he climbed to the top of the Wall.
Looking out over the magnificent world beyond, where snow covered everything beneath the sky, Robb stood atop the vast wall that seemed almost high enough to touch the heavens. For the first time in ages, his chest eased.
The mood took him. He scratched a line into the ice of the Wall, declaring that Robb Stark had been here, and then pissed over the edge.
Jon watched this childish behavior, rolled his eyes, and said Robb looked exactly like Tyrion had looked when he came to the Wall.
Ever since Eddard had died in King's Landing, Robb had lived as if danger were always at his back. He could survive only by moving forward.
Now that the pace had finally eased, Robb and Jon spoke at length about everything that had happened over the past year and more.
"Gods. It has been so long since I could talk like this," Robb said as the sun slanted west. He licked his dry lips. "No time. No one to talk with. This feels good."
"When I first learned Father was dead, I thought of leaving Castle Black too," Jon said.
He looked at Robb, who so rarely showed anything so open, and rested a hand on his shoulder.
"But as you said, we all have our own lives and our own duties. Sometimes there is no way to choose what we want."
"Mm. Thank you for trying to comfort me.
"When I return to King's Landing this time, we may not meet again until the army of the Others comes.
"Oh, and I will soon hold the grandest wedding in the Seven Kingdoms. You will not be able to attend that either.
"Heh. My queen is the youngest daughter of House Tyrell, and she is prettier than your Ygritte."
Robb patted Jon's hand on his shoulder, then deliberately shifted his tone into teasing.
Jon laughed softly.
"I remember when we said we would become heroes known throughout the Seven Kingdoms and marry the most beautiful women in the world.
"Robb, congratulations. You truly did it."
"Tch. Jon, I was mocking you. You have not changed at all. Still no fun."
Robb glanced at the darkening sky.
"Enough. It is about time. Let us go down."
The next day, Robb watched as the free folk outside the Wall, led by Mance, formed long orderly lines and passed through the tunnel into the Gift.
After saying farewell to Jon, Jory, Owen, and the others, he led his soldiers back to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea.
From there, they boarded the Redwyne fleet's warships and set sail for King's Landing.
The Iron Islands, Lordsport.
Ships large and small, some laden with cargo and others carrying passengers, moved in orderly paths through the harbor mouth.
Thanks to the rules Theon had set under Robb's direction, and to the growing prosperity of the town beside Moat Cailin, this former raiders' port had begun to look faintly like it might become one of the great ports of Westeros.
With the Iron Fleet and the northern fleet away on campaign with Robb, the nearby waters were guarded by a temporary fleet formed by ironborn captains who profited from Lordsport's prosperity.
A long, narrow single-masted ship broke through the waves and sped toward the harbor. It carried a black sail painted with the kraken of House Greyjoy, and its hull had been painted an ominous dark red.
As the ship drew closer, the figurehead at its prow came clearly into view: a woman wrought in black iron, with long legs, a narrow waist, and high breasts. Her eyes were mother-of-pearl, but she had no mouth, as if to proclaim that the ship's crew were all mute.
On the deck of the red ship sat a pale, handsome man with black hair and beard. An eyepatch covered his left eye, and his right eye was bright blue.
He was dressed unmistakably as an ironborn, and in his hand he held a cup filled with a deep blue drink that flowed as thickly as honey.
Looking at Lordsport, so different from the place he remembered, and at the patrol ships around it, the man drained the blue drink in one swallow and licked his lips.
"Look at that. My dear nephew has managed the Iron Islands rather well for me."
The crewmen around him nodded eagerly. None of them spoke.
"Have Silence follow the ships ahead into Lordsport. Wait aboard. I will go ashore and gather news."
Aside from the man's voice, the ship named Silence made no sound at all. It truly lived up to its name.
After Silence docked in the ever-larger, ever-busier port, the man swayed down from the ship and headed straight for the largest tavern in the center of town.
Essos, Braavos.
Past the Titan of Braavos lay the many narrow waterways carved by the bay, and the countless stone arch bridges that bound the city together.
Water lay everywhere in Braavos, and almost any edge of stone could serve as a landing. Even so, the city still had two main harbors, one in the north and one in the west.
The northern one was the Purple Harbor, reserved for Braavosi ships. The western one was the Ragman's Harbor, crowded with foreign merchant ships, passenger ships, cargo vessels, and fishing boats.
Today the Ragman's Harbor was as busy as ever. Fishermen returning from the water haggled with buyers, and porters hauled cargo from ships.
From a passenger ship that had sailed from King's Landing, a middle-aged man in common clothes came down with a longsword at his waist. His arm was tight around a boy with messy golden curls and a face blackened with grime.
After leaving the ship, the man looked roughly toward the city center and led the golden-haired boy away.
"Oysters, clams, and cockles!"
A girl pushing a wheelbarrow filled with oysters and shellfish called out through the harbor. Her head turned left and right as she searched for possible customers.
Beside the entrance to the Ragman's Harbor, a thin-haired old man sat at a worn long table with several strong, broad men around him.
He gathered the Braavosi iron coins on the table, looked at the fresh oysters in the girl's wheelbarrow, swallowed, and called, "Are those oysters fresh?"
"Of course. Mine are the best and freshest in the city."
The girl stopped her wheelbarrow and answered him.
"Heh. You would not lie to an old man, would you?"
The old man laughed softly. From the way he stared at the oysters, he clearly wanted one for free.
The girl understood him perfectly. She picked up an oyster from the wheelbarrow and was about to open it with the small knife in her hand.
Then her movements stopped.
Her gaze fixed on the middle-aged man ahead, the one holding the little boy.
The man seemed to sense something. He turned his head toward her.
The girl quickly opened the oyster, turned, and handed it to the old man.
He slurped it down greedily.
"Very good. Four for me, with vinegar."
By then, the middle-aged man and the golden-haired boy had already passed them and were about to vanish into the crowd.
The girl suddenly seemed to lose all interest in the sale. As she turned the wheelbarrow around, she told the old man, "Sorry. Something urgent came up. No more business today. I will come back tomorrow."
"Hey, what sort of trick is this? If you come tomorrow, I will not buy then either!"
The girl did not seem to hear his complaint. She pushed the wheelbarrow quickly after the middle-aged man and muttered under her breath, "I do not know why Meryn Trant is in Braavos, but this is the perfect chance to avenge Syrio."
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