Moving the Capital to Harrenhal

The North, beyond the Wall.

First Men's Fist.

The soft crunch of footsteps in the snow.

Three black-cloaked Night's Watchmen led their skinny horses along the foot of the snow-covered mountain.

"I'm telling you, we should find somewhere to warm up."

A lean young man spoke, shivering from the cold.

He already had a shifty, ratlike face, and hunching his shoulders with his arms wrapped around himself only made him look more pitiful.

"Shut your mouth and save your strength."

The burly Night's Watchman snapped back, continuing to lead his horse.

This was Wildling territory. They could run into a migrating Wildling tribe at any time.

There was no place for the Night's Watch beyond the Wall. They were despised as "crows."

"Keep quiet. We need to find shelter before dark."

The last young man patted his companion on the shoulder, then pulled a piece of moldy jerky from his coat and handed it to him.

Food was running low, and they were all starving.

They were all wretched souls. They had to help one another to make it through these hard times.

"Thanks."

Gratitude showed in the lean young man's eyes. He hesitated, then tucked the jerky into his coat.

Apparently still unsure, he patted his chest.

Before joining the Night's Watch, he had been a prisoner in the Red Keep's dungeons, arrested for theft.

The damned Master of Laws had locked him in the dungeon without even asking what had happened.

Clip-clop...

Suddenly, the sound of hooves came from the distance.

The three men hurriedly looked up, then threw themselves into the snow to hide.

They thought they'd had the bad luck to run into a Wildling tribe.

They were rangers, sent beyond the Wall at the Lord Commander's orders to observe the Wildlings' migration routes.

Unfortunately, rangers