The flames of revelry lit up the night sky over the Wall.
The Free Folk celebrated the birth of their new king in the most primal way they knew, and with it, the end of their suffering.
Tormund hugged an enormous barrel of ale, drinking against several Thenn chiefs.
His broad face was flushed red, and thunderous laughter burst from him at intervals.
More Wildlings circled the bonfires, performing rough, powerful war dances and singing ancient songs, their voices filled with both desolation and joy.
Lynn did not join their revelry.
He stood alone on the balcony of the Lord Commander's Tower, looking down at the seething sea below.
The cold wind stirred the black cloak that marked him as Lord Commander, yet he felt no chill at all.
An unprecedented sense of satisfaction filled his heart.
This was the taste of power.
"Aren't you going to have a drink with them?"
Jon Snow had come up beside him at some point, carrying a faint smell of ale.
"They need a king more than a drinking companion."
Lynn kept his gaze on the scene below.
Jon fell silent for a moment, the joy on his face gradually giving way to concern.
"Lynn, we're running short of food."
Jon kept his voice low.
"The stores at Castle Black, along with what we brought from Mole's Town, will feed these hundred thousand people for half a month at most."
"And about those stone houses you mentioned-the Manderlys of White Harbor did send a raven back. They're willing to supply craftsmen and stone, but the price..."
Jon winced.
"It would swallow almost an entire year's tax revenue from the North."
"Money and food won't be a problem."
Lynn's tone was calm.
He turned and entered the study, motioning for Jon to close the