Ygritte stood with her hands on her hips, her voice wild.
However, the surrounding wildlings burst into laughter and whistles.
They did like this fiery red-haired girl.
But making her the leader?
That seemed more like an amusing joke.
"Hold on a minute!"
"I, Tormund, am the first to disagree!"
A thunderous roar exploded.
Tormund's massive body squeezed out of the crowd like an angry brown bear.
His signature red beard bristled with excitement, and a thick finger almost poked Ygritte's nose.
"Her? Be the boss?"
Tormund glared at Lynn, his expression seemingly saying, "Did you get your head caught in a door?"
"Lynn, she's just a little girl!"
"Doreah told me she hasn't even grown hair down there yet; she saw it with her own eyes!"
"You absolutely cannot entrust such an important task to her!"
"My arrow can shoot through your left nut from a hundred paces, Tormund."
Heaven knows why she hadn't grown hair yet despite her age, but Ygritte retorted without showing weakness.
"Want to test if this little girl's arrow is hard enough?"
"I am a leader of the Free Folk! I've wrestled giants! I've climbed the Wall!" Tormund thumped his solid chest, making dull thuds.
"You want this red squirrel to lead us?"
"She'll probably lead everyone to chase a real squirrel and dive headfirst into a swamp!"
"At least I know what a swamp is!"
Ygritte retorted sharply.
"Unlike a certain fool who sees a female bear and thinks she's a pretty woman just because she has lots of hair!"
Boom!
The crowd erupted in laughter.
Tormund's rugged face turned liver-red instantly.
His romantic affair with the she-bear Sheila was a hurdle he could never overcome in this life.
But he did indeed like lots of hair.
Myrcella stood aside, still wrapped in Lynn's thick bearskin cloak.
She watched this crude quarrel with novelty in her green eyes.
In King's Landing, noble struggles were poisoned needles hidden under silk gloves and daggers behind smiles.
But here, everything was so primitive, direct, full of wild vitality.
"Enough."
Lynn's voice instantly extinguished the anger between the two who were about to fight.
The entire camp quieted down instantly.
After all, face still had to be given to the King Beyond the Wall.
"Tormund,"
Lynn turned to the big guy, a smile on his face.
Tormund turned his head, looking at Lynn, his face full of grievance.
Like a child who didn't get candy.
"Lynn, you can't do this to me. This is fucking unfair!"
"Who said it's unfair?"
Lynn walked to Tormund, patted his thick shoulder, pulled him aside, lowered his voice, and said mysteriously.
"Letting her be this bandit leader is just putting on a show for those fools in the south."
"Acting isn't real fighting and killing; what fun is there?"
"As for why I didn't let you participate, it's because I have a more important, and more confidential mission to give you."
"You misunderstood my good intentions. Not giving you a mission is false; wanting you to do a more important mission is true!"
"More important mission?"
Tormund's eyes lit up instantly.
The little grievance in his heart dissipated immediately.
"Of course, I, Lynn, never speak false words."
Jokes aside, Lynn's expression became serious when speaking of business.
Seeing Lynn's expression become serious, Tormund also began to listen carefully to what Lynn said next.
"Only you, Tormund, my most trusted brother, can accomplish this matter."
"If it were anyone else, I wouldn't give them this mission even if they wanted it!"
This sentence hit Tormund's itch precisely.
He immediately puffed out his chest, thumping it loudly.
"Speak, Lynn!"
"What mission?"
"Even if it's poking a dragon mother's ass, I'll do it for you!"
Lynn was choked by his crude metaphor, then took a piece of parchment from his tunic.
"I need you to lead your most elite scouts to find some things."
Lynn drew on the parchment, not words, but pictures wildlings could understand.
"First, a type of tree. The liquid boiled from its trunk becomes very elastic when dry and can be stretched very long."
"I've seen a lot of this stuff at the Wall; it's not hard to find, used for repairing tools."
Of course, this thing certainly wasn't a species from Earth before his transmigration. This stuff was very cold-resistant, similar to rubber. Lynn had seen Maester Aemon use it, wondering if it could replace rubber.
"Its sap is very useful to me, and the trunk can also be used to build ships for me. I want you to collect a lot."
"Second, sugar beets. The North probably doesn't have this stuff. check if it's here; if not, forget it. I have substitutes for this."
"Third, find some fruits without wax coating, like raisins, apples, or blueberries."
"The kind without a film on the surface."
"And a special clay; I need to make large clay jars..."
Lynn told Tormund the basic raw materials in the simplest and most direct way.
Tormund listened dumbfounded.
He completely didn't understand why Lynn wanted these weird things.
Rubber?
Was that edible tree sap?
"Lynn, you want these things... for fighting?"
Tormund scratched his head, full of confusion.
"More important than fighting."
Lynn's expression was unfathomable.
"It can let us have endless food in the coming Long Night."
Endless food?
Tormund's breathing became heavy instantly.
For wildlings, nothing was more tempting than this promise!
"I understand!"
Tormund slapped his thigh, a look of realization on his face.
He didn't know what Lynn was going to do.
But he knew.
This must be some magical stuff he couldn't understand but was awesome to the extreme!
"Don't worry, Lynn!"
Tormund straightened his back, as if shouldering the future of the entire race.
"I promise, even if I have to turn the entire North upside down, I'll find these things for you!"
With that, he turned around vigorously, beginning to gather his most capable warriors to set off immediately.
Watching Tormund's energized back, Lynn smiled with satisfaction.
Wildlings didn't have so many twists and turns. Aside from some comprehension issues, they were quite capable.
Having solved the trouble of Tormund, Ygritte's position as "rebel leader" was secure.
She looked triumphantly at the wildlings who dared to laugh at her just now, chin raised high like a victorious rooster.
Lynn's gaze swept over the giants moving heavy objects.
There were about 300 of these giants.
Lynn was thinking.
These giants were excellent at sieging cities and capturing territory. When he had money, he must equip these giants with full armor and a handy weapon for each.
Just then.
A wildling scout responsible for guarding the south rode a fast horse, galloping all the way.
"King! South! A huge convoy is coming from the south!"
The scout dismounted, a trace of panic on his face.
"The wagons have red flags with a golden lion on them!"
Lannister?
All the wildlings present changed their expressions, instinctively gripping their weapons.
Only Lynn's face remained calm.
He knew Cersei's "dowry" had arrived.
Although this convoy set off early, it should have taken half a month to reach the Gift.
Arriving so quickly meant Tywin must have transported it from nearby.
This also reflected Tywin's regard for Lynn.
It seemed Cersei's work was done very thoroughly...
At Lynn's signal, the camp gates opened slowly.
Before long, a convoy stretching out of sight, escorted by hundreds of Lannister guards in red cloaks and fine leather armor, drove slowly into the Gift.
Wheels crushed the snow, making crunching sounds.
Every wagon was fully loaded.
At the front were sacks upon sacks of grain.
The white flour made many wildling children want to stick out their tongues to lick it, but they were held back by their families.
Following closely were neatly stacked weapons and armor.
Fine steel longswords produced by Casterly Rock shone with cold light under the Northern sun.
Brand new plate armor and chainmail made the wildling warriors wearing only tattered furs stare wide-eyed.
Further back were large quantities of cloth, salt, iron tools...
There were even a few wagons of Dornish red wine specially transported for nobles to enjoy.
All the wildlings stared blankly at this massive convoy.
They had never seen so many supplies in their lives!
Especially iron!
Beyond the Wall, iron weapons were held only by the top wildling warriors!
And this convoy had countless iron tools!
They simply thought this was richer than the treasuries of all the lords of the Seven Kingdoms combined!
Myrcella stood behind Lynn.
Watching those fluttering golden lion banners, her green eyes shone with complex and unclear light.
She knew very well.
To make Tywin Lannister, who valued wealth like life and family honor higher than the sky, willingly give such vast wealth to Lynn, how rare it was.
What means did this man before her use?
Night fell.
Bonfires burned more vigorously than ever in the Gift.
Wildlings changed into new grain, eating white bread in big mouthfuls and drinking ale.
The entire camp was immersed in a sea of revelry.
Lynn's tent was the largest and warmest in the entire camp.
Thick bearskin rugs were laid three layers deep by enthusiastic wildlings, completely isolating the ground's chill.
The tent itself was made of a whole heavy elephant hide, enough to withstand any severe cold.
In the central brazier, high-quality charcoal burned without a trace of smoke.
Lynn sat at the desk, refining the action plan for the fake "rebellion" by candlelight.
He needed to ensure this play was realistic enough.
To give Catelyn ample reason to stay in the North, without truly hurting innocents and arousing the resentment of House Stark and other Northern lords.
Moreover, his experience points hadn't been touched. He remembered his agreement with the Three-Eyed Raven.
As long as he could find a new body for him, he could obtain sound magic and nature magic.
It seemed he had to put all experience into Greensight, which would also facilitate him finding a suitable candidate as soon as possible.
After all, nature magic promoted plant growth, which could make deeper preparations for the coming Long Night.
Just then, the tent flap was lifted slightly.
A fiery red head peeked in.
"Lynn... are you asleep?"
It was Ygritte.
She wore only a thin linen nightgown, holding a thick fur blanket.
"Something the matter?"
Lynn looked at her.
"I... I'm cold."
Ygritte's voice was as thin as a mosquito's, an unnatural blush on her face.
This excuse was laughably clumsy.
Her tent was equally warm.
Because all wildlings knew her relationship with Lynn was somewhat unusual, her tent, like Myrcella's, was of the highest standard.
Under the thin fabric on Ygritte's body, exquisite curves loomed.
There was even a fine layer of sweat on her skin.
Cold?
Who was she fooling?
Lynn looked at her leisurely.
"So?"
"Can... can I sleep with you?"
Ygritte finally mustered the courage to state her purpose.
Holding the blanket, she stood there uneasily like a little fox caught stealing food.
"My tent really isn't as warm as yours."
Afraid Lynn would disagree, Ygritte added quickly.
Lynn looked at her and suddenly smiled.
He didn't speak, just walked to his bed, lifted the fur quilt, and patted the empty half.
Ygritte's eyes lit up instantly.
She almost pounced over cheering, like a swallow returning to its nest, drilling agilely into Lynn's quilt.
Her body was instantly wrapped in warmth.
Ygritte curled up beside Lynn like a kitten, resting her head on his arm, feeling his strong heartbeat.
The tent was quiet, save for the slight popping of charcoal in the brazier.
Ygritte didn't sleep.
She opened her blue eyes, staring unblinkingly at Lynn's chiseled profile.
"Lynn."
Ygritte spoke suddenly.
"Hmm?"
"Myrcella... is she going to sleep with you too?"
Lynn's body stiffened.
"Why do you ask?"
"I saw it."
Ygritte's voice carried a trace of imperceptible sourness.
"On the dragon's back, you gave your cloak to her."
"She was freezing." Lynn said.
"I was cold too!" Ygritte retorted unconvinced.
Lynn sighed, not knowing how to explain to this wildling girl with peculiar logic.
"She is different from us, Ygritte."
"What's different? Isn't it one head and two legs?"
"How should I put it, she is more... fragile, not as tough as us."
"Bullshit fragile!"
Ygritte sat up abruptly in the quilt.
Her thrilling curves loomed in the dim candlelight.
"She must be doing it on purpose!"
"She wants to pretend to be pitiful on purpose to make you feel sorry for her!"
"You were fooled by her, Lynn!"
"You fool! You know nothing!"
Lynn looked at her angry appearance, somewhat amused.
He reached out, pulling this bristling little wildcat back into the quilt, holding her tightly in his arms.
"Alright, stop making a fuss."
The warm chest and strong arms gradually calmed Ygritte's struggles.
She buried her face in Lynn's chest, saying muffedly.
"I don't care."
"Anyway, I want you to sleep only with me."
"If you dare sleep with Myrcella, I'll... I'll shoot an arrow through her butt!"
Hearing this, the corner of Lynn's mouth couldn't help twitching.
"Aren't you good friends with Myrcella?"
Ygritte muttered.
"That's different..."
"I don't want her to marry you..."
Lynn looked down at the wildling girl in his arms, full of tiger-wolf words yet domineeringly cute, a trace of helplessness rising in his heart.
"Go to sleep; your task tomorrow is heavy."
Lynn gently patted Ygritte's back, like soothing a wronged pet.
Ygritte rubbed against his chest, finding a more comfortable position, her breathing gradually becoming steady.
Just as Lynn thought she had fallen asleep.
"Lynn..."
The person in his arms murmured dreamily again.
"Can you control my body again? I want it..."