When Ethan returned to Hardin's Tower and told Kevin he would be riding out beyond the Wall on patrol with Chief Ranger Benjen in three days Kevin immediately complained:
"Teacher—why aren't you taking me again? You didn't take me in White Harbor either and I came back with nine stab wounds nearly dying on the road. You haven't forgotten have you?"
Ethan said helplessly:
"Of course I remember.
But this time it's not that I don't want to bring you—it's that Chief Ranger Benjen won't allow it. He specifically told me not to. How could I refuse him?"
Kevin stood up.
"I'm going to talk to him—"
Ethan quickly grabbed his collar.
"Forget it Kevin—don't go.
He's not even taking his own nephew. Why would he take you?"
Kevin frowned clearly displeased.
"I'm not like that boy. I've killed pirates taken heads. In every sense I'm a true warrior.
Jon? He probably hasn't even killed a chicken."
Ethan was puzzled.
"What's wrong? You two aren't getting along? I didn't see you arguing on the journey here."
"Jon…" Kevin thought for a moment then said carefully:
"He's all right—not a bad person.
But he has this… arrogance that rubs people the wrong way."
Ethan shrugged.
"After all he's the duke's son. It would be strange if he didn't have some arrogance.
As long as he's not malicious it's fine.
Arrogance is like a raw gemstone fresh from the earth. Unpolished it hurts both the wearer and everyone around it.
But once cut and polished it can reflect brilliant light.
Chief Ranger Benjen will probably visit many places on this patrol. I'll likely be gone several days.
You can spend the time here with Jon and experience the martial training of northern nobles."
Though Kevin was reluctant since the decision came jointly from Chief Ranger Benjen and his teacher he could only obey.
"All right Teacher—I won't go.
I'll go prepare your gear."
"Go ahead. Remember to ask the cook for extra smoked meat. I love it and I'm willing to pay."
Before setting out beyond the Wall Ethan had three days of free time.
With so little time there was no room for long-term projects; he could only fill the hours with small everyday tasks—like reading.
Ethan had already finished the few volumes Tyrion borrowed from Winterfell during the journey.
So early the next morning he dragged Tyrion along to Castle Black's library hoping to find something extraordinary hidden among the dusty shelves.
The library was overseen by Maester Aemon—said to be over a hundred years old an age that would be considered exceptional even on Earth.
It was Ethan's first meeting with Maester Aemon: a bald wrinkled hunched blind old man.
Ethan found it hard to imagine how someone so frail could survive in this frozen hell where eggs could freeze solid in minutes.
Out of respect for the elder both Tyrion and Ethan went to the maester's chambers and politely requested permission—only to be gently refused.
According to Maester Aemon the library held mostly old records and annals—chiefly the Night's Watch's own accounts over the centuries—nothing particularly remarkable.
Moreover as guests it was inconvenient for them to come and go freely.
Of course if they were interested the old man could select a few entertaining volumes for them to borrow and read in their chambers.
So leaning on his assistant the frail old maester shakily prepared to shuffle to the library and choose some light reading for his two visitors.
Tyrion and Ethan seeing this hurriedly took their leave.
Outside the maester's room Ethan stroked his chin.
"So… how shall we pass the next two days?"
Tyrion glanced at him and said dryly:
"Two days for you—two weeks for me.
Hm… let's find some amusement. How about Mole's Town?"
Ethan refused decisively.
"No."
Tyrion was quartered in the King's Tower reserved for honored guests.
After parting Ethan began considering whether he should first build goodwill with the Night's Watch.
He had only arrived at Castle Black yesterday. Apart from Benjen Stark Master-at-Arms Bowen Marsh and recruiter Yoren he knew none of the other black brothers.
Moreover his current status was merely a guest's bodyguard—not even a guest proper. Under these conditions doing or seeing anything significant would be difficult.
Since the library was off-limits and he had no particular plans Ethan decided to spend the next three days doing the brothers' "daily chores"—at least enough to become a familiar face.
That way if he ever needed help later no one would ask "Who are you?"
So he wandered Castle Black offering assistance wherever he saw someone working.
He helped the smith pump the bellows helped in the kitchens carry loads helped muck out stables fetched water helped spar with anyone practicing swordplay.
Though some refused thinking he was in the way most readily accepted the help.
After all he was strong quick and free—why refuse?
Thus almost miraculously Ethan blended perfectly into the rhythm of Night's Watch life.
Some who didn't know the situation even assumed he was a volunteer recruit preparing to take the black and kindly reminded him to wear black when leaving his room.
On the afternoon of the third day Ethan had just stepped out of blacksmith Donal Noye's forge when he noticed an old brother loading wooden buckets filled with fingernail-sized pebbles into the iron cage of a crane erected at the corner of the Wall.
His eyes lit up—wasn't this the perfect chance to reach the top?
Ethan stepped forward grabbed a bucket of pebbles placed it in the cage then gathered the others already stacked inside and arranged them neatly in the center.
"Old brother—is this the right way?"
The old brother looked into Ethan's eyes after a moment asked:
"You're the Lannister dwarf's bodyguard—the one who does odd jobs everywhere?"
Ethan nodded.
"Am I that famous?"
The old brother snorted.
"There's a southerner fool who does odd jobs everywhere but is smart enough to refuse the black. Of course he's famous."
"Yes—but this fool wants to do some work for you and perhaps see what the Wall looks like from above. What do you think?"
"What's there to see up top?" the old brother muttered. "Just ice snow… and man-eating wind…
But if you want to see come along. I won't stand on ceremony.
And don't call me 'old brother'—call me Dave."
"All right Dave. Thank you."
Dave rearranged the six buckets closed the cage door and tugged on a rope hanging from the Wall.
Moments later the iron cage slowly rose under the pull of the winch.
He then led Ethan toward the zigzag wooden staircase nailed against the face of the Wall climbing upward.
Anyone who has lived in a high-rise and walked up during a blackout knows climbing sixty or seventy stories is no easy task.
But veterans have their methods.
Every few landings Dave would pause to rest—so Ethan would also sit on the steps until Dave was ready to continue.
Though it took time Ethan didn't consider it wasted.
Each level offered a different view.
Looking south from inside the Wall to the right rose the endless jagged line of northern mountains; to the left stretched a boundless plain.
The afternoon sun shone on snow-covered ground creating a dazzling spectacle.
Castle Black lay at his feet etched in the pale winter light.
Looking down he realized how stark and empty the windowless keeps crumbling walls and rubble-strewn yards truly were.
In the distance half a league south along the Kingsroad he saw the tumbledown houses of Mole's Town and icy streams tumbling from the mountains their surfaces flashing golden like scattered dragons.
Beyond that the world was endless cold-ravaged hills broken cliffs and snow-dusted wilderness.
After nearly an hour of hard climbing the two finally reached the top.
A sudden biting gust struck Ethan sending a shiver through him.
"Look—that's the winch. Supplies go up by crane. Men use the stairs."
The old brother walked to the crane exchanged a few words with the black brother working the mechanism then picked up two buckets of sand and headed the opposite direction.
"Boy—bring me two more buckets of sand."
The top of the Wall was wider than the Kingsroad. Ice and stone fused into iron-hard mass under endless cold wind.
The brothers had spread gravel across the walkway but long use had worn it down frost gradually filling the gaps swallowing the stones.
When the path wore smooth again they would spread more gravel—and that was Dave's task today.
Ethan carried two buckets followed Dave to a smooth ice patch.
Dave upended the buckets scattering sand then took a broom fixed to the Wall and carefully spread it even.
After emptying one bucket Dave handed Ethan a broom.
"Come on—do it like I do.
Now I'm going to find the lads to warm by the fire. I'll come get you when it's time to go down."
With that he left.
Ethan took the broom and spent over an hour spreading the remaining gravel evenly.
When the promised work was done Dave was still resting in the winch hut—so Ethan finally had time to lean against the battlements and properly gaze at the lands beyond the Wall.
North of the Wall stretched endless coniferous forest reaching toward highlands and snowfields in the northwest.
That was the home of the free folk.
The free folk lived beyond the Wall.
South of the Wall they were usually called wildlings.
They called themselves free folk to distinguish themselves from the "kneelers" south of the Wall who bowed to lords and kings.
The free folk believed the gods made the world for all mankind to share—but so-called kings came with crowns and steel swords stole everything and claimed it as their own.
They believed kneelers lacked freedom while the people of the Seven Kingdoms regarded wildlings as lawless uncivilized thieves rapists and murderers.
The free folk—also descendants of the First Men—were cut off from Westeros by the Wall's construction and became orphans of the continent.
They preserved their freedom forming many tribes and clans spreading across hundreds of villages refusing to kneel to any king and freely choosing their own leaders.
Each village held its own customs and they were perpetually at war with one another.
Ethan didn't know whether the free folk were descendants of those left behind by the King in the North when the Wall was raised or fugitives and criminals who fled north.
Perhaps both.
Tomorrow… tomorrow he would see.
But now… Ethan simply wanted to find a spot where his backside wasn't freezing and sit for a while to gather more mana.
The moment he reached the top he discovered his mana regeneration was far faster than on the ground.
If ground-level regeneration was like water dripping from eaves now it was like a downspout after heavy rain—pouring steadily.
In Ethan's perception the entire Wall was one vast spirit-gathering array continuously drawing ambient magic from the air and channeling it into the ice beneath his feet.
Under constant infusion of this power the ice never melted—and through the tireless labor of the black brothers layer after layer of sand and ice was piled higher.
After eight thousand years of effort this colossal wall was complete.
The tiny leakage between the array's strands restored nearly two-thirds of Ethan's mana bar in moments—making him marvel at its sheer power. Perhaps only an ice mage could truly understand its workings.
Though he had no concrete proof Ethan believed the Wall must possess some powerful defensive enchantment that kept White Walkers at bay.
Otherwise no sane person would allow such a structure to stand for eight thousand years.
If Ethan were leading the White Walkers he would have gnawed the Wall down with his teeth.
The only reason they hadn't was that it was simply impossible.
Therefore as long as the Wall endured the North remained safe from the Others.
With the possibility of White Walkers moving south ruled out the most likely northern crisis was large-scale invasion by wildlings from beyond the Wall.
History East and West records many cases of hardy hunter-gatherer peoples from cold harsh lands sweeping south to conquer settled agricultural societies—each time setting civilization back centuries.
But even if the existing order were overthrown by migrating free folk—even if they reached Dorne—what real difference would it make?
In the end humanity would still rule the world.
Ethan couldn't quite grasp the catastrophe everyone feared.
No matter—he would see for himself. He would find the answer.
As the sun sank the long shadow stretched behind Ethan.
The old brother finally emerged from the winch hut. Ethan greeted him:
"I'm finished. Is this all right?"
The old brother barely glanced down shuffled his boots across the surface then nodded.
"It's fine—leave it.
It'll be frosted over again soon anyway."
The next morning at sunrise Ethan had the horses ready and waited in Castle Black's yard for Benjen.
After a while Chief Ranger Benjen arrived with six brothers and asked:
"Sorry to keep you waiting…
Are you certain you want to come?"
Ethan patted Lightning's neck.
"Of course."
"Then ride with us."
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