The warrior who came running for help was named Aika. Ethan remembered that he and Thorn were both from the Norrey clan and appeared to be cousins.
Ethan hurried after him and asked:
"What happened?"
Aika answered urgently:
"Just now while Thorn was collecting spoils a body on the ground suddenly sprang up tackled him pulled out a dagger and drove it straight into his right chest—right here!"
Thorn's accident had occurred on the main road of Wisteria Village very close to the square—it took only a few hurried sentences to reach the spot.
Ethan quickly arrived beside Thorn and saw him lying flat on his back a short dagger protruding from his chest blood bubbling from his mouth and nose rising and falling with his shallow labored breaths.
His Silver Hand comrades stood in a tight circle around him eyes filled with grief as they looked down at their wounded brother.
No one believed he could survive; some of the more impatient men were already murmuring prayers hoping he would receive the favor of the Old Gods after death and rejoin his ancestors.
Why the rush?
Ethan had no time for words.
He pushed aside several soldiers crowding too closely squatted down examined the wound and found that although the leather armor had slowed the blade half of it still remained buried in Thorn's chest.
He turned and asked:
"How long ago?"
Conrad answered:
"Just moments ago."
"Where's the killer?"
Conrad jerked his chin toward a mangled wildling corpse lying beside Ethan.
"Right there next to you."
Ethan gave it a quick glance frowned and said:
"From now on one man will be responsible for collecting all spoils.
They'll be distributed evenly afterward—we'll settle the details later.
First let's heal his wound."
Conrad knew Ethan was about to use Light magic; anticipation shone in his eyes.
This was something Ethan had already explained to the officers after returning from beyond the Wall.
"Teacher!"
At that moment Kevin suddenly spoke up:
"Should we call all the brothers over and pray for Thorn together?"
Ethan's eyes brightened—excellent idea.
Seeing the fervent almost fanatical look in Kevin's gaze Ethan couldn't help marveling at what a find he had made.
He nodded immediately:
"Quick—gather everyone here right now or it'll be too late."
Kevin turned and shouted to the remaining soldiers still rummaging through corpses:
"Brothers—over here now!
Thorn needs your help—hurry!"
As Ethan's disciple and second-squad vice-leader Jon commanded considerable respect among the men.
Hearing his call the rest hurried over forming a dense ring around Ethan and Thorn.
Even Roland—who had been directing villagers to move bodies—Nikolas and several other Wisteria veterans rushed to watch.
Seeing the warriors assembled Ethan raised his voice:
"Thorn is wounded—stabbed in the right chest by a wildling and now stands on the threshold of death.
He is our brother.
I will not stand by and watch him die without doing everything in my power.
Whether you follow the Old Gods or the Seven now join me in praying to the Sun God and lend him our strength!"
Ethan then dropped to one knee clasped his hands tightly to his chest and recited aloud a prayer of praise to the Sun:
"Sun God Lord of Radiance
as dawn breaks my heart prays
thank You for Your light that dispels darkness
bringing warmth and giving life.
Guide my path grant me strength
to walk forward bravely and without fear in adversity.
May Your radiance forever shine within my heart
for I am grateful I cherish I love and am loved.
Praise be to the Sun God—may Your grace endure forever!"
After every two lines Ethan paused and Kevin—the most ardent believer—loudly repeated them.
In this life-or-death moment the Silver Hand warriors feeling their shared bond ignored any awkwardness toward the heart tree and joined Kevin in reciting the prayer with rising volume.
When the prayer had been repeated three times clear and resonant Ethan suddenly raised his voice and cried:
"May the Sun God bless this brave warrior!"
He seized the dagger yanked it from Thorn's chest pressed both hands firmly over the gushing wound and poured a full third of his mana into a powerful Holy Light spell.
Amid the thunderous prayers of the crowd a brilliant golden radiance burst into existence enveloping Thorn and illuminating every face in the ring of onlookers.
Thorn's body convulsed violently beneath the light.
After a few heartbeats he struggled upright coughed up several thick mouthfuls of blood then rubbed the torn hole in his breastplate murmuring in disbelief:
"I'm healed… the wound is gone."
Witnessing this impossible scene the entire crowd fell utterly silent.
Everyone had assumed Ethan had merely gathered them to offer last rites for a dying man—yet the commander's mysterious magic had pulled a soul back from the very edge of death.
Kevin dropped to one knee and cried aloud:
"Sun God—what a miracle!"
He began the prayer once more this time with far more fervent support from the warriors.
After all any one of them could be the next to lie bleeding on the ground.
Thorn now fully conscious stared at Ethan with dazed gratitude and stammered:
"Captain—I didn't die… I'm alive!"
Ethan clapped him on the shoulder.
"Rest now regain your strength—and do not waste the Sun God's grace."
Under the reverent gazes of the crowd Ethan feigned exhaustion staggered to his feet then walked slowly toward the garrison commander's keep—there were tables and chairs inside the hall; he needed to sit down.
As he passed through the village square a bound wildling woman suddenly surged to her feet and rushed toward him—only to be tackled and pinned by the village militia guarding the prisoners.
Though held face-down and unable to rise she struggled to lift her head and cried desperately:
"Wizard—please!
Save my brother!
I saw you cast the spell—please!"
The square lay directly in front of the keep gate and Thorn's attack site had been on the main road—the two places were not far apart.
In the darkness a sudden golden light blazing in the night sky had been impossible to miss.
Ethan stopped turned and asked:
"Your brother?
What happened to him?"
The woman pleaded frantically:
"His stomach was pierced!
Please—save him—please!"
The guards watching the prisoners were fresh men Nikolas had brought back from outside the village.
Seeing the commotion Nikolas hurried over worried something might go wrong and witnessed the scene.
He immediately tried to intervene:
"Captain Ethan—these wildlings are murderers and rapists.
They don't deserve the Sun God's blessing."
Nikolas clearly did not wish the prisoners to receive Ethan's healing.
But Ethan had already formed plans for these twenty-odd wildling captives.
If he could use this moment to demonstrate the Light's power and reduce their hostility it would be greatly advantageous.
So he ignored Nikolas's protest turned to the bound prisoners—some cowering others glaring defiantly—and asked loudly:
"Which of you is this woman's brother?!"
A man with dry yellow hair and a gaunt face raised his head.
"It's me—leader—"
His face was deathly pale his body twisted in obvious agony.
Ethan walked to him placed a hand on the injured man's head and roared to the other captives in the square:
"If you want your comrade to live—pray with me!"
Then he began the prayer once more.
The Silver Hand warriors immediately joined in loud and fervent—but the prisoners remained stubbornly silent not one voice rising.
Seeing their refusal Ethan swept his gaze across their faces with visible disappointment.
"So this is the pride of the free folk?
So proud you would rather watch your brother die in agony than open your noble mouths to pray for his life?"
Hearing this the woman who had first begged Ethan cried out to a bearded brown-haired prisoner:
"Raelin—please!
Don't you remember when you were starving it was my brother who shared his last food with you?"
Then she turned to a thin young man:
"Ras—don't forget who saved your life from Gould—have you forgotten already?"
The bearded prisoner hesitated a long moment then shouted:
"Morse—I owe you nothing!"
His rough voice joined the warriors' rhythmic prayer.
Gradually one by one the captives began to recite until every bound wildling was praying to the Sun God.
Ethan once again unleashed Holy Light.
The radiance erupted even brighter than the crackling torches ringing the square.
The wildling Morse clenched his teeth neck hunched eyes fixed as his torn stomach closed and healed beneath Ethan's hands.
For a moment he was speechless then whispered:
"If… if Lina were here—"
Who was Lina?
Ethan didn't know and didn't particularly care.
Everyone carries their own past their own unresolved regrets—one can only keep moving forward.
Seeing the crowd still immersed in the solemn atmosphere of prayer Ethan quietly rose continued feigning exhaustion and staggered toward the keep hall.
Jon—who had been lingering at the edge of the crowd—hurried over and slipped an arm under Ethan's shoulder.
"Teacher—let me help you inside."
Inside the empty hall of the keep Ethan drew the crystal bottle of heart tree sap from his belt unscrewed the stopper took several deep swallows endured the searing bitterness then felt his mana bar refill completely.
Relaxed at last he asked casually:
"Jon—is this the first time you've seen me use Light magic?"
"Yes Teacher.
I only heard from Uncle Benjen that you saved his life with some kind of mysterious spell—but I never imagined it would be so… unbelievable."
"To be honest I didn't expect it either.
Perhaps the people of this continent have gone too long without the light of day."
After a brief silence Ethan continued:
"Jon—I've always felt a certain distance between you and me and between you and the other brothers.
Can you tell me what you're thinking?"
Jon's eyes widened.
He hurriedly shook his head:
"No Teacher—I have no such thoughts!"
Ethan chuckled looked up at the dark beams overhead and said:
"Do you feel abandoned by your father—cast onto the Wall where the Seven Kingdoms dump their trash—then abandoned again by your uncle and thrown beside a strange charlatan like me?"
Jon fell silent neither admitting nor denying.
After a long pause he asked in a dry voice:
"Teacher—am I superfluous?
I've never felt that anyone truly needs me.
Perhaps I should never have been born."
Ethan shook his head.
"I don't know the customs here in Westeros but in my homeland no one is born superfluous.
People do not choose whether to be born—that is their parents' decision.
What can an infant who only cries for milk and warmth possibly understand?
What burden should it carry?
So no one bears inherent sin.
If there is sin it belongs to the parents."
Jon grew agitated.
"But I'm still a bastard!"
"A bastard?
If you stripped 'Snow' from your name right now who would know?
In this company who cares whether you're a bastard?
Those fools who scorn you for being born out of wedlock—do you really need to care about their opinions?
Jon—who you are whether you are superfluous whether you are needed—is decided by your own actions not by the people who gave you life.
That is the true meaning of 'freedom' in the teachings of the Sun God."
After a pause Ethan began to tell a story:
"Have I ever told you about the great monarch from my homeland named Julian Diamond?
He was the founder of the Empire of Light—"
He briefly recounted the tale of Zhu Yuanzhang founding the Ming Dynasty.
"Jon—even a beggar orphan is nobler than a commoner forced into hermitage begging for alms with nowhere to bury his parents right?
Emperor Julian never hid his impoverished origins throughout his life—yet the entire nation still regards him as the greatest hero of his era one of history's most remarkable monarchs."
"Jon—think carefully about the kind of man you want to become.
Next time we form a new squad go down and serve as vice-captain.
Live among true commoners and see how your past hardships compare to theirs."
"—Understood Teacher."
After effortlessly annihilating the attacking wildling raiders the Silver Hand was no longer viewed by the people of Wisteria Village as a band of dangerous armed strangers who might turn on them at any moment—but as powerful and friendly allies.
On the night after the victory Wisteria Village organized a grand celebration banquet.
Originally Nikolas and Roland had planned only a small dinner in the keep hall for Ethan Eddie and a few officers.
But at Ethan's insistence Nikolas lowered the formality turning the intimate gathering into a large bonfire party in the village square.
When word spread the villagers responded with enthusiasm.
That evening as the bonfire roared men women and children of Wisteria Village dressed in their best clothes joined the Silver Hand warriors drinking eating singing and dancing around the flames.
As the celebration reached its peak old Geigar—supported by his daughter Anya—walked unsteadily to Ethan's side.
When silence fell around the fire Geigar spoke to Ethan:
"Captain Ethan—though my eyes are failing I have seen and remembered everything you have done for our village these past ten days.
When Roland sought help in Winterfell and no one would answer you generously accepted our plea and helped us strangle those vile wildlings.
I am deeply grateful.
This is the reward Roland promised you on my behalf."
The old man took a platter from Nikolas beside him and handed it to Ethan.
The platter held ten golden dragons.
Then he took a fine longbow from another youth Ethan did not recognize and presented it as well.
"This longbow was a prize Duke Rickard awarded me in a tournament before his death.
I give it to you in the hope that you will continue using it to protect the people of our northern border."
Today Geigar was unusually lucid.
Ethan's gaze passed over the old man's shoulder and settled on Nikolas's face.
Nikolas smiled and nodded.
Ethan understood—the misunderstanding between father-in-law and son-in-law had been resolved in this battle.
To give Nikolas one final push Ethan accepted the bow raised it high and shouted:
"This victory was not only the work of the Silver Hand—it was also thanks to the trust the elders of Wisteria Village placed in us!
It was everyone's cooperation that let the enemy walk so easily into our trap.
In this I especially want to thank Mr. Nikolas Jenkins.
If he had not risked his life to enter the wildling camp alone and deliver false intelligence we could never have won at such low cost.
Let us cheer for Nikolas Jenkins's courage!
Nikolas! Nikolas!"
Ethan led the chant the Silver Hand warriors joined in then Nikolas's supporters in the village and finally the entire bonfire crowd roared his name.
In the fervent atmosphere and shared joy of victory the celebration drew to a close.
The next morning Ethan ordered his men to pack gear and they marched to the outskirts of Wisteria Village.
By then the villagers had already buried the thirty-odd wildling raiders killed in the battle.
The remaining twenty-odd prisoners—starved for two days—were now led by bound wrists to the edge of the farmland outside the village.
Ethan had the captives lined up in two rows then pulled forward two wildlings already confirmed to have committed unforgivable crimes and forced them to kneel facing the crowd.
One was the Night's Watch deserter Ashley—Jabi's advisor who had supplied many wicked ideas.
The other was a sadist who delighted in torturing and murdering young children—Ethan didn't even bother learning his name.
After announcing their crimes "The Beheader" Kevin Turner stepped forward and—with the longsword "Ellie" that Ethan had forged for him—severed their heads.
Ethan kicked the two severed heads in front of the kneeling prisoners and declared:
"Their deaths were the judgment of the Sun God for crimes that deserved death.
As for the rest of you—since the Sun God has spared your lives I will not take them lightly either.
But I cannot simply release you to wander free only to gather again someday and harm the people of the North.
So I offer you a choice: follow me join the Silver Hand as auxiliary soldiers and serve without pay for three years.
During that time I will provide food and safety.
If you work diligently I will give you some pocket money besides.
After three years I will set you free.
You may stay in the Silver Hand as paid mercenaries or lay down your weapons and return to your homes beyond the border."
He tossed a sword onto the ground before them.
"If you refuse to follow me then here is your other choice: continue the unfinished battle from the night before last.
Pick up that sword and kill me—and I will order my men to release you."
Seeing the prisoners' eager expressions Ethan added:
"Of course—if you fail you will join those two."
At that moment a quick-witted wildling shouted:
"But you have only one life—and we still have twenty!"
The Silver Hand warriors burst into laughter.
One kinder soul couldn't help reminding them:
"Our captain once fought more than a dozen of us alone.
The rest of you who didn't even dare step forward—think carefully about yourselves."
The prisoners exchanged glances.
Ethan seemed to hear a dense crackle of electricity in his ears—but in the end no one dared pick up the sword and challenge him.
Instead it was the wildling named Morse—the one Ethan had personally healed—who spoke up:
"Messenger of the Light—if I follow you may I hear the teachings of the Sun God?"
Looking into his sincere fervent eyes Ethan slowly nodded.
"In the eyes of the Sun God—whether free folk northerners southerners or even those across the Narrow Sea—all are His children without distinction."
The wildling pounded both fists against his chest and proclaimed loudly:
"Morse of the Lightford clan is willing to follow you!"
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