New students start from 'Game of Thrones'

Chapter 66 A Clash of Wills

Owen fixed his gaze on Mance Rayder and spoke slowly: "Mance Rayder, I know you want to lead the wildlings beyond the Wall to escape the White Walkers' slaughter. The lords of the North will fight the White Walkers to save the living—and I can persuade them to let you through. But you must show us your stance in return."

Owen had no patience for delays; he got straight to the point.

"You can convince the Night's Watch to let all of us Free Folk cross the Wall?" Mance asked, skepticism in his voice.

"I, Jeor Mormont, Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, agree to let you enter," Jeor said, stepping forward to face Mance. "But you must swear allegiance to the Warden of the North."

"The Free Folk bow to no one! We'll never kneel to a lord!" Orell snapped, speaking before Mance could respond.

"The North has vast lands for farming, and dense wolfswoods for hunting—but these lands have owners. We won't let you take them for free," Owen said, his eyes still on Mance. "You want to cross the Wall to save your people from the White Walkers—and that's understandable. But you can't do it at the expense of the people who already live north of the Wall."

"You have a large group, but do you have more men than the Seven Kingdoms? You're just a band of unorganized fighters. Compared to the well-equipped, disciplined armies of the south—with their cavalry—you don't stand a chance," Owen added.

"How will we know if we don't try?" Tormund finally spoke, stepping forward. His eyes glinted with the desire to fight.

"Ha! You lot wouldn't even be enough for him to kill," Jaime scoffed, nodding at Owen.

"Mance Rayder—what's your choice?" Owen ignored Tormund's provocation, his gaze boring into Mance. "Will you cross the Wall safely and become farmers under the Warden of the North? Or will you choose war—until the North's armies wipe out every last one of you?"

"The Free Folk have never bowed to a lord, and we never will," Mance said, his face darkening.

"So you choose war?" Owen's voice turned cold, his eyes sharp. "Are you sure you're ready to face fear?"

"I think you should be the ones fearing us," Mance said, smiling as he glanced at the small Night's Watch group and then at his own large band. "We outnumber you by far."

"What makes you think you can defeat us? Who gave you the courage—the White Walkers?" Owen sneered.

"You survived the White Walkers only by luck. But when you face us, there will be no escape," Mance insisted, his confidence unshaken. He couldn't fathom losing—with so many more men, how could he?

As soon as Mance finished speaking, the wildlings drew their weapons. They glared at Owen and his group, ready to fight. The air turned icy; battle was moments away.

"Mance, we don't have to fight!" Jon urged, panicking at how badly the odds were stacked against the Night's Watch. "We both want to defeat the White Walkers—we can work together!"

"Jon, you're one of the Free Folk now. You should stand with us, not these southerners," Mance said sharply.

"Jon, get over here!" Ygritte called, anxious.

"Kid, step back. You don't want to get hurt when the fighting starts," Sandor said, pulling Jon behind him and shoving him into the Night's Watch ranks.

Seeing Jon pushed to safety, Mance drew his sword. He glared at Owen, ready to attack.

"Mance Rayder, you still have a chance to reconsider," Owen said, one last attempt to reason.