Mormont's throat worked. He wanted to say something more, but no sound would come out. Behind him, the Black Brothers exchanged glances.
One looked shocked. He was a young steward who had come to the Wall less than two years ago and had yet to fully adjust to the cruelty of life there.
Others secretly rejoiced that they had escaped unscathed, their fingers unconsciously rubbing the longswords in their hands. These were veterans who had not immediately chosen to swear allegiance to Viserys the last time he was at Castle Black.
Fortunately, they had not been as foolish as those Wildlings from beyond the Wall, who had tried to challenge Viserys Targaryen and his dragons.
Silence spread through the courtyard of Castle Black, until only the wind remained, howling through the gaps between the towers and stirring up tiny snowflakes that had drifted down from the Wall.
Viserys patiently waited for their next move. His expression was calm, his violet eyes betraying no emotion. It was a ruler's patience. He was accustomed to people needing time to accept the reality he brought them.
"Your Grace." Mormont finally spoke again, his tone even more respectful this time, with a barely perceptible trace of awe. "The Night's Watch thanks you for your aid. Without you, we would likely have suffered devastating losses. The Shadow Tower might have fallen, and the Ironborn would have plundered every castle along the Wall and let the Wildlings march south. And once the Wildling army broke through the Wall..."
He shook his head and said no more, but everyone understood what he had left unsaid.
It would have been another invasion like those of Raymun "Redbeard" or Renn, the "King Beyond the Wall": villages south of the Wall burned, common folk slaughtered, and the North drenched in