Far away in the North.
The Shadow Tower began to tremble violently.
"Crack... crack..."
A withered, rotting hand suddenly thrust out from beneath the thick snow!
Then came a second, a third, a tenth, a hundredth!
Thousands upon thousands!
Countless corpses sleeping underground opened their icy blue eyes at the same moment!
They crawled out of the snow and the cracks in the glaciers... one after another.
Among them were corpses dressed in the black of the Night's Watch, corpses draped in Wildling furs, and even the corpses of ancient Giants long thought extinct!
They had no thoughts, felt no pain.
Only one will drove them.
South!
South!
South!
Farther away, near Dragon's Landing Castle north of the Wall.
The same scene was unfolding on an even more terrifying scale.
The black earth split open.
Densely packed corpses covered everything in sight, like locusts pouring out of hell!
A hundred thousand!
Five hundred thousand!
A million!
A full million Wights gathered into an endless sea of death!
They made no sound.
The only sounds in the entire world were the cracking and grinding of bones and the chaotic shuffle of footsteps.
They crossed frozen rivers and climbed steep mountains.
Everything withered in their wake, and even the air took on the chill of a grave.
This army of death surged south toward the Riverlands!
King's Landing.
The Tower of the Hand.
Lynn slowly opened his eyes.
He could feel that his vast army had awakened.
Good.
Lynn walked over to the table and rang the bell on it.
A moment later.
The captain of the Gold Cloaks strode inside.
"My lord!"
"Assemble all the Gold Cloaks." Lynn's voice was calm. "Thirty-one thousand four hundred men. Not one fewer."
The captain shuddered, excitement spreading across his face.
"Yes, my lord!