"Whooo! Whooo! Whooo!" Three horn blasts rang out, signaling an attack by the White Walkers.
The chains rumbled. The trebuchets and ballistae needed to do their work.
Because of the cold weather, these machines all needed oiling to keep them running smoothly and prevent them from freezing up.
"The supplies are in place, Your Grace, but there isn't much wildfire," said Tyrion Lannister, the chief bombardier. "The magical elements are fluctuating, but the pyromancers' output isn't that high."
Back in King's Landing, the Imp had dealt with the alchemists who made wildfire.
Snowflakes began swirling through their hair as the cold ran rampant.
"With all due respect, Your Grace, our best option is to abandon the Wall," The Imp said. "White Harbor and Winterfell are the only castles left in the North, and we can't rely entirely on magic dragons flying back and forth to transport supplies."
Samwell spread his hands. "Giving up the Wall would still be a painful choice."
But Gendry had also considered that the Wall was a natural barrier for either side.
There were also warriors such as the Night's Watch and the wildlings, who had adapted to life in the North. Abandoning it would also deal a tremendous blow to human morale.
The Night's King had the advantage in numbers. Even if he could not win a siege, he could still wear down the human soldiers' morale and numbers.
It was like a mill of flesh and blood, constantly grinding away at the manpower of Westeros.
The wight horde spread again, like mass upon mass of white waves.
In the confrontation along the Wall, the White Walkers had now changed their approach. Their main force still attacked the armies on either flank through the long passage and over the ice at sea level.
Facing blizzards