Game of Thrones: Second Son of House Targaryen

Chapter 276: Countdown to the Wall’s Collapse

In the snow, a gray hare foraged near an almost withered weed. Eat it, it's not tasty and not very nutritious. Don’t eat it, but I’m really hungry, the hare thought, hesitating.

Just as it lingered, a birch arrow pierced its gray belly. A short woman with fiery red hair stood up.

"Ygritte! This is the third rabbit today, you're amazing."

This woman was Jon's future lover. At the moment, she was teaching two young wildlings the secrets of hunting. However, after hearing their praise, Ygritte didn’t seem pleased. Instead, she responded with a touch of disappointment, "Eating rabbit meat can keep you from getting hungry, but you can't eat it too often."

She remembered an old companion who, despite always catching rabbits, had remained skinny and eventually broke a bone while hunting. Ygritte, who could barely read or write, didn’t know that surviving on only rabbit protein would lead to severe malnourishment. But her experience had taught her that if you keep eating rabbits, sooner or later, you might starve to death.

With the rabbit pinned to their waists, the group returned to the camp in the valley. However, something felt amiss. The atmosphere had become tense, and there were more patrolling soldiers than usual.

Ygritte spotted an acquaintance and asked, "Tubby! What's going on today? Everything was fine when I left this morning."

The male barbarian she called Tubby shrugged and replied, "I don't know. Mance suddenly called a bunch of people together for a meeting, and the Thenns came too."

"The Thenns?!" Ygritte’s eyes widened. She understood the gravity of the situation. To the wildlings, the Thenns were like the people from "big cities"—they smelted copper and were more organized, making them distinct from the other clans.

...

Inside Mance's tent, several braziers flickered, casting light over the prominent leaders of the wildlings seated around them. The average clan chiefs weren’t even allowed to enter. The most conspicuous figure was a man whose skeletal armor clattered with every movement—Rattleshirt, the so-called "Lord of Bones."

Rattleshirt had fashioned his armor from the bones of both humans and beasts, and beside him lay a helmet made from a giant skull, minus the lower jawbone. Despite his striking appearance, it was clear that the room’s authority rested with a brown-haired man of modest height—Mance Rayder, the famous “King-Beyond-the-Wall.”

Once everyone had gathered, Mance spoke, “Since you're all here, Orell, tell us what your animal companion saw.”

All eyes turned to a pale-faced savage with two long braids hanging from his temples. His name was Orell, a Skinchanger. He could bond with his hawk, seeing through its eyes to scout for enemies or prey.

Orell's voice was steady as he said, “I saw a dragon. A red dragon.”

“That’s impossible. Dragons are extinct. Even the Targaryen dragons are long dead,” scoffed a bald man with a clean-shaven beard. He was surprisingly well-groomed for a wildling, with a few shiny brass buttons sewn onto his clothes. This was Styr, the Magnar of the Thenns, a title equivalent to chief or patriarch.

“No,” Mance corrected him, “A Targaryen Dragonlord lives. You all know I was in Winterfell once before, when the King in the South...”

Mance trailed off, the memory still fresh in his mind. He had once crossed the Wall alone and infiltrated the feast Ned Stark had held for King Robert Baratheon. There, he had overheard the southern lords whispering about Viserys Targaryen.

“It’s said that the exiled Targaryen prince has gathered an army across the Narrow Sea, and the Kneelers' Kings is deeply troubled by this.”

A burly man with a red and white beard spoke up, “You say you saw a dragon, but are you sure you weren’t mistaken?”

The speaker was Tormund, known as the “Giantsbane,” the wildling who would later be known for his interest in Brienne. However, here Tormund appeared older, with four sons and one daughter.

“My hawk is afraid of it. No creature has ever made me feel such fear,” Orell replied. What Orell described as ‘fear’ was actually dragon awe. After the dragon hatched, Viserys and Daenerys lived in a place where even mice dared not venture.

“If it really is the Dragonlord, then what’s he doing beyond the Wall?” asked a woman in a dogskin cloak, her voice tinged with fear. The very mention of the Dragonlord riding a dragon struck a chord of dread. Their reputation was formidable.

The Free Folk might despise one another, and they often referred to the Night’s Watch as ‘Black Crows’ or ‘Crows,’ but dragons were another matter entirely. They held a legendary status, and the idea of dragons soaring through the sky left the Free Folk with nowhere to hide and no means of defense.

A cold wind suddenly blew into the tent, causing Rattleshirt, who was sitting closest to the entrance, to shiver. He turned to see a barefooted Hornfoot entering. These Hornfoots didn’t need shoes and possessed exceptional stamina, making them the scouts among the Free Folk.

...

“Your Grace, a Night's Watchman gave me this,” someone said, producing a letter.

It had been nearly ten days since Viserys arrived at the Wall. In that time, he and Qhorin Halfhand had dispatched hundreds of men to search for signs of the Free Folk.

Meanwhile, Viserys himself had ordered his dragon to conduct a wide-ranging search beyond the Wall.

He exercised extreme caution throughout the process—after all, the Night King from the TV series, the infamous “Javelin Thrower,” had left a lasting impression on him. Though he wasn’t sure if the Night King in this world possessed similar abilities, he knew it was wise to be vigilant.

During these days, Viserys focused primarily on mapping the terrain beyond the Wall. Even when visibility was poor, he refused to let the dragon lower its altitude, much less land, to avoid any potential threats.

In addition to searching for the Free Folk, Viserys made another troubling discovery. Initially, the panel indicated that the Wall had a reserve of nearly 100 million points of Magic. However, after ten days, Viserys noticed that the Wall's Magic reserve had decreased by over 200,000 points. At the current rate of 20,000 points of Magic consumed per day, the Wall's reserves would only last for just over ten years.

Once the Magic is depleted, will the Wall collapse? Viserys wondered. He didn’t know the answer, but he understood that within the next ten years, he would either need to find a way to replenish the Wall's Magic or defeat the Night King.

“Your Grace, our scouts have news,” came a voice, interrupting his thoughts.