After thinking it over for a moment, Bran Stark decided to go with the wildling girl to her camp. Until Brynden Rivers contacted him again, Bran had no idea which direction to head anyway — and having more people around might make things easier.
As for safety? With the "Storm Sword Saint" at his side, Bran figured that everyone else present might as well be trash mobs.
Once Bran nodded, Aedric reached beneath his cloak and quietly pulled a large piece of hard bread from his spatial storage. He tossed it to Ygritte and said calmly, "That's your payment."
Better to settle debts clearly — he didn't like owing favors.
Wildling supplies were notoriously scarce; even hard bread was a feast to them. Ygritte swallowed hard, pocketed the bread, then shook awake her dazed companions and explained the situation. After that, she led Aedric and Bran toward their camp.
As for whether the others agreed or not — well, they could always object… if they didn't mind getting smacked in the head again.
After half a day of trudging through endless snow, they finally arrived at the wildling camp — hidden deep within a massive valley, just like in the TV series.
Watching countless figures moving about in the freezing wind, Aedric couldn't help but feel a trace of melancholy. This, after all, was where Jon Snow would ultimately end up in the show — his final home in a desolate, icy wilderness. No wonder the man had fought so hard for freedom, even at the cost of everything else. Spending the rest of one's life here… was simply too tragic.
Seeing Aedric standing silent and frowning, Ygritte smirked teasingly. "What's wrong, Lord Fancy-Coat from south of the Wall? The cold scaring you already?"
"Yes," Aedric said matter-of-factly. "I'm terrified. I truly admire how you all survive out here. If it were me, I'd go mad after a few days."
Ygritte blinked, caught off guard. It was the first time anyone from the south had ever openly admired them. After a moment, she murmured, "You're… not like the black-cloaked crows. They only ever want us dead."
"That's their duty," Aedric replied evenly. "They chose to give up everything — honor, wealth, even family — to guard the realm and fight in a land that doesn't belong to them. That makes them heroes too."
"They're executioners! Devils!" Ygritte snapped, anger flaring. "They've slaughtered so many of us!"
"And you've killed about as many of them," Aedric said, unfazed by the stares gathering around them. "Different sides, that's all. No need to moralize it."
Then he gestured to the crowd of wildlings who'd begun closing in and said calmly, "Now, can you help me find what I'm looking for? That bread wasn't a free gift."
Ygritte glared at him, took a few deep breaths, then spun on her heel and stalked away into the crowd, leaving him and Bran standing there.
"What a petty woman," Aedric muttered.
If it were Jon Snow or any other member of the Night's Watch standing here, suddenly surrounded by hundreds of wildlings, they'd probably be trembling with fear. But Aedric? He was perfectly calm — even a little amused — as he studied a towering giant among them.
"Damn," he murmured. "That frame… Shaquille O'Neal would kneel and call him daddy."
Because he and Bran weren't wearing the black cloaks of the Watch, the wildlings were more curious than hostile. But the giant noticed Aedric's blatant stare and frowned, lumbering closer until his massive shadow swallowed them.
His glare said plainly: What are you looking at, little man?
"Wow," Aedric whispered. "Even more impressive up close. So majestic."
Already, he was plotting — maybe he could recruit himself a giant follower.
But the giant, insecure about his size and fed up with being gawked at, roared and swung a massive fist the size of a millstone at Aedric's head.
Everyone around gasped — they were certain the stranger was about to be reduced to paste.
Instead, Aedric simply extended one hand, caught the blow, shifted his weight, and with a graceful flick — the giant was hurled backward through the air, crashing heavily into the snow and twitching on the ground.
Heavenly Reversal Technique plus Taiji Deflection. Four ounces to move a thousand pounds. Classic.
Ignoring the horrified stares, Aedric took Bran by the hand, walked over to the stunned giant, and smiled down at him. "Want to come with me? We can discuss your salary later."
"What have you done, southerner!"
A gruff voice broke through the murmurs. Through the crowd pushed a burly, red-bearded man — Ygritte trailing just behind him. It was none other than Tormund Giantsbane himself.
"Nothing serious," Aedric said lightly. He grabbed the giant's arm, channeled a surge of Heavenly Shift power, and with a single effortless motion, helped the hulking creature back to his feet. The poor thing looked utterly confused, as if unsure what had just happened.
Yes — Aedric was establishing dominance. Without showing a little power first, these wildlings might get ideas. Respect always came to those who could back it up — in every world.
"Think about my offer," Aedric said, patting the giant's hip — it was the highest point he could reach. "Before I return south of the Wall, the offer stands."
Then he turned to Ygritte and Tormund, who were both staring at him like he was some kind of god. "So," he said with a pleasant smile, "this is the man who knows where to find the Three-Eyed Raven? Thank you, Ygritte."
"Th-Three-Eyed Raven?" Tormund stammered. The fierce wildling leader visibly shrank, rubbing his beard nervously. "What… what are you talking about, my lord?"
My lord, huh? Nice. The intimidation was working.
Still, appearances had to be kept up. Aedric's expression darkened, and his tone turned cold as he glared at Ygritte. "I came here for the Three-Eyed Raven. And you bring me someone who knows nothing? Are you wasting my time, Ygritte?"
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