Lynn was moved by Mance's story. He sat up straighter and asked, "Before I got here I heard you wanted to reorganize the camp?"
"No, that was just an excuse. No amount of clever planning can control men who refuse to obey orders. What I really want to talk about is the future of the free folk."
Mance reached over and unrolled a map drawn on sheepskin. It showed mountains, rivers, and little marks for castles.
"I'll be honest with you. Taking the Wall isn't the hardest part. The hard part comes after."
"Up here the free folk scrape by on foraging, fishing, and hunting. It's a hard life, but we survive. Once we cross south… the game is scarce, and trying to teach free folk how to farm is a fairy tale."
His finger traced the map across ranges of mountains, forests, and rivers.
"They'll rob and kill, but they'll never pick up a hoe. The North is huge and empty. They'll starve alongside the farmers in the fields or rot at the foot of castle walls."
"The free folk might slip past a lightly guarded Wall—it's too long, too empty, too thinly manned, full of holes—but storming a well-stocked castle defended by soldiers is another story."
A bitter look crossed Mance's face.
"I lied to them before. I gave them hope and told them the castles would fall easily. Once they actually see those stone walls they won't be so sure."
"In the end only a handful may survive. All I'll have done is drag them from an icy hell into a starving one."
Lynn said slowly, "You should be talking about this with your advisors, not some outsider like me."
Mance gave a self-mocking laugh. "I left something out earlier. I said I'm my own warrior, my own fool, and my own bard. Add one more—I'm my own advisor too."
"The free folk don't stay calm when big things are at stake. They're better at doing whatever the hell they feel like, even when they know it'll turn everything to shit. And their leaders are usually the worst of the lot."
"But you're different. I've heard clans singing about your fairness. You kept an entire column in good order on the march here."
Lynn shrugged modestly. "That was the Thenn warriors. I only offered a couple of suggestions."
"That's exactly the problem!" Mance's voice rose. "Disciplined soldiers plus a brain that actually works—that's how the southerners operate. That's how they grabbed the best land and shoved us into the snow and ice."
"After all that talk, what's your plan? You want me to be your Hand and do all the thinking and governing for you?"
Lynn's tone was half-teasing.
"No," Mance said. "I want you to lead the free folk."
For the first time in front of any wildling, Lynn looked genuinely surprised. He had assumed Mance only wanted to keep him close out of fear of the dragon and his influence over the Thenns, to stop the army from splitting.
He never expected the man to offer up the crown of King-Beyond-the-Wall. Mance didn't look like he was testing him, and there was no reason to fake it.
"That's not realistic, and I—"
Mance raised a hand. "Hear me out before you refuse."
Lynn nodded.
"I won't deny I once dreamed of copying the old Kings-Beyond-the-Wall—Redbeard Raymun, the Bard Bael, Joramun and Gendel, the Horned Lord, and Joramun. They all led the free folk south to conquer the Seven Kingdoms."
"But after the Others appeared and Dalla became pregnant, everything changed. All I want now is a quiet life in a place where a man can choose the color of his own cloak."
Mance's mouth curved into a small smile. His gaze softened as it flicked to Dalla's rounded belly, then hardened again.
"Winter is coming. The Others are closing in on the Wall. There's no future left beyond the Wall. Even if we cross, the free folk won't fare any better. The North can't feed everyone, and the southern armies will march home sooner or later."
"History proves undisciplined free folk are no match for lords' armies. All that waits for us is a feast of death."
"And me…"
Mance tapped his own chest.
"As King-Beyond-the-Wall, the man who brought ruin to the North, I'll be the prime target for the nobles' revenge. My wife and child will suffer for it—maybe die for it."
"But your arrival gave me hope. 'Son of the Stars' Lynn… maybe the gods really did send you to save us."
"You brought a dragon—the symbol of conquest. Kneelers fear dragons. It's small now, but it will grow. The free folk will fight for you. Whether we conquer or negotiate, as long as the lords stand down and give us land to live on, that's enough."
Mance's view on the dragon lined up exactly with Kuna's, Lynn thought.
They also shared one other thing: both had lived on or south of the Wall.
"I thought you were a Targaryen exile with some grand plan. Now that you say you're not, that's even better."
The corner of Mance's mouth lifted.
"You show more respect and mercy than any southern lord. You listen to the free folk and hand down fair judgments."
Lynn felt a little embarrassed. "They were just small rulings. Any decent person could do the same."
"Maybe," Mance said with a nod. "But decency is rare these days."
"On top of that, you tell a damn good story—better than my harp. Don't think that's a small thing. Free folk worship knowledge and clever words because they don't have much of either. Where do you think all those songs come from?"
Lynn hadn't thought of it that way.
"Bottom line: you have legends, a reputation, the Thenns, a dragon, and you're even a skinchanger. All I've got is smooth talk and a poor imitation of the Bard Bael. By any measure, you look more like a King-Beyond-the-Wall than I do."
It was clearly humble talk. The wildling chiefs still obeyed Mance without question—that took more than ordinary skill.
"If you're willing, I'll help you become their king. They'll follow you, cheer you, fight for you, bring you gifts, and sing your name for generations."
Mance laid out the rewards first. Then he looked straight into Lynn's eyes and added slowly,
"There's only one condition: don't make them kneel."
For Lynn that wasn't even a condition.
Right now, if any lord or king demanded he kneel, he'd politely tell them to fuck off.
"In my homeland…" Lynn pointed at the roof of the tent, "we never win respect by forcing people to their knees."