Prisoner Exchange

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(Author Note: This chapter deserves some armor plating right from the start. I swear, I have no intention of disrespecting women here. This is simply one of those helpless choices that come with war… Please don't come blaming me.)

Compared to the letter sent to Winterfell, Clay's request reached White Harbor even earlier.

As soon as Wylis Manderly discussed the matter with his younger brother, who had just returned from leading the fleet's training at sea, the two of them agreed to push this matter forward without delay.

The moment the brothers learned that the Northern army had been almost completely wiped out in a single battle, they immediately realized how grave the situation truly was.

Fortunately, the prisoners were ready at hand — and had been keeping themselves relatively well-behaved during this time. Of course, the ones who weren't obedient had long been dealt with by Clay and his mens. There was no way those troublemakers would be left alive, jumping about and causing chaos this late in the game.

When Clay's letter arrived, Wylis had originally intended to handle the matter slowly and discreetly. After all, White Harbor had quietly absorbed thirty thousand prisoners — bringing that sort of thing out into the open was never going to sound good, no matter how you tried to dress it up.

But now, with the situation so urgent, who had the luxury to worry about appearances? The top priority was to assemble a force as quickly as possible and rush them south to the Twins.

And so, a rather peculiar scene unfolded in White Harbor.

The Manderly family's guards could be seen plastering notices all over the city — along every street, every alleyway — proclaiming that any bachelors in the city who made their way to the Lord's estate would be sent home with a woman of their own.

Of course, this wasn't entirely free of strings attached. Yes, they could take a woman home, but they were expected to do their duty and leave behind descendants as soon as possible.

And what for? Naturally, it was so that these men would then pick up their weapons and prepare to head south to assist Lord Clay Manderly — the very man responsible for giving them wives.

The Manderly brothers had done the math clearly enough. If these women weren't pregnant and the men marched south, only to die in battle, wouldn't that mean all those women had been handed out for nothing?

Sure, the whole matter of "success rates" was a little… uncertain, but as long as the scale was large enough, the outcome should still be reasonably impressive.

What's that? You say the woman you took home refuses to cooperate with you?

Well then, forget it. Bring her back early and let someone else who actually needs a wife have her. If you can't even manage that much, you might as well stay put and spare Lord Clay the embarrassment of dragging you along to the south.

At first, the common folk of White Harbor were filled with suspicion and confusion. They couldn't quite figure out what exactly the Manderly family was up to.

But deep down… what they were really thinking was:

Could there really be such a good thing?

Impossible. Impossible. Absolutely impossible…

Because in the North, what's the most valuable thing? It's not gold, not land—it's people!

Though women might not be as suited for hard labor as men, there was still plenty of work they could do.

The North was a harsh, unforgiving place. Most common folk lived tough, frugal lives. There was simply no chance for delicate, pampered women like those raised in the fertile lands of the Riverlands to appear here.

So, being given a woman… for the countless bachelors in White Harbor who had never managed to find a wife, this wasn't just about solving certain… physical needs, or saving money at the tavern, or finding some companionship to share drinks and laughter with.

It meant the chance to build a proper household, to raise a family, to lift their income and living standards as a whole. An opportunity like that… well, at least in the memory of their generation, across the entire continent of Westeros, not a single noble had ever done something like this.

After the news had circulated and simmered for a while, eventually, someone — clearly unable to contain himself any longer — finally mustered up the courage and strode towards the gates of New Castle.

And once he asked around, he realized… it was all true!

As for the conditions, these unmarried men without wives thought it all made perfect sense. If the lord had been handing out women entirely for free, they might have hesitated, even gotten suspicious. But being given a wife to help the lord fight his wars? That sounded downright generous. Honestly, who could complain about a deal like that?

Later on, even more concrete news came to light. It turned out these women weren't ordinary townsfolk at all. They were actually Wildling captives — brought back by Lord Clay Manderly himself after defeating the Wildling army beyond the Wall.

At that… some folks couldn't help but hesitate again. After all, the reputation of Wildlings across the entire North had always been… less than stellar.

But then again, people always tended to overestimate their own self-control when it came to certain… desires. No matter how much they tried to resist, there would always be bold ones among them, itching to give it a try.

They brought the women home. No one knew exactly what went on behind closed doors, but the very next day, that fellow swaggered out of his house, looking fresh and satisfied, casually tugging at his belt as he hummed an off-key little tune.

In front of the gathered crowd, he offered his verdict with an air of ease:

Not nearly as bad as I imagined… just a little wild in the temper, that's all.

It seemed the woman was especially afraid of Northerners. The moment he showed even a hint of dominance and threatened to send her back, her hands, which had been clutching at his trousers, instantly went weak.

In the end, it all boiled down to one simple truth: As long as a man held his ground properly at home, everything else would fall into place without much trouble.

It was not that he was especially impressive or domineering. The real reason lay elsewhere. Wylis and his brother had quietly set down a rule for these women, who had already been frightened into submission by Clay. If any woman dared to act too aggressive, got herself sent back, or lifted a hand against the man who took her home, regardless of who it was, the punishment was simple and merciless: they would be dragged out and executed without a second thought.

Most of it, of course, was just scare tactics. But there was no helping it. The family was desperate for soldiers now. What should have been done gradually, over time, was being shoved forward all at once like driving ducks onto a perch.

Forget all that talk about equality and rights, about how they were people too. This was war — a battle of life and death. Try preaching rules and fairness to your enemies and you'd end up like Eddard Stark. His fate stood as a lesson for all to see.

Once the first man had enjoyed the… benefits, the number of people following his lead only grew by the day.

The Manderly family made it clear — first come, first served. You could even choose. As long as the woman caught your eye and you had the guts to take her home, she was yours.

That was the final straw that broke the camel's back.

And so, within barely a week, nearly six thousand Wildling women had been claimed and taken home. Well… at this point, calling them "Wildlings" didn't feel entirely appropriate anymore.

As long as they kept their heads down, lived quietly, bore children with Northern men, and gradually changed how they saw themselves, neither Clay nor the rest of House Manderly would treat them as outsiders any longer.

Time, after all, could wash away everything… even memories of Fire and Blood.

Among those six thousand, most were young and attractive, though naturally, there were also those whose tastes… ran a little different. Wylis and his brother, watching all this unfold, could only sigh — but they weren't about to interfere. As long as the men showed up when it was time to report for duty, they didn't care much beyond that.

Half a month later, out of the six thousand women handed out, barely a dozen had been returned.

Once the reasons were confirmed, for those few women who still clung stubbornly to their pride, unwilling to bow their heads, Wylis showed no mercy — blood was shed without hesitation.

By the time the appointed day arrived, over five thousand men had already gathered, one after another, at the military camps outside White Harbor.

Of course, compared to the massive population of White Harbor itself, that wasn't exactly a huge number. But still… this kind of conscription? Across all of Westeros, it was likely the very first time anyone had ever done it like this.

As for the few hundred who still hadn't shown up, Wylis simply sent men door to door to drag them out. It turned out, not many had faked addresses or gone into hiding. After all, everyone lived and worked in White Harbor. Once House Manderly finished dealing with more pressing matters, they'd hunt each and every one of them down. Trying to weasel out of it simply wasn't worth the risk.

And so, in an incredibly short span of time, just within the city of White Harbor itself — without even counting the surrounding villages—had produced a "militia" six thousand strong.

Of course, this kind of trick could only be pulled off in White Harbor. In other places? Hand out all the women you wanted, it wouldn't make a difference. There simply weren't enough people to begin with.

As for the matter of equipment, Wylis waved it off entirely. Anything that could be solved with coins wasn't really a problem at all. These men were nothing more than fresh recruits. First, they'd be handed sticks to drill with, get the basics hammered into them. As for proper armor and weapons… Wylis had already emptied out White Harbor's entire stockpile to equip them.

Naturally, it wasn't top-quality heavy plate meant for elite soldiers. Most of it was chainmail, the kind of armor especially common in the North. It cost far less than a full plate, but still offered reasonable protection. Ever since Clay had departed Westeros for Essos, the Manderly family had been steadily preparing, following his instructions before he left. Now, finally, those preparations were proving their worth.

The armor and steel weapons had already been packed onto ships in advance and sent down to the Twins. Here in White Harbor, Wylis was only overseeing the initial round of training. As for the more comprehensive drills and battlefield discipline, that would have to be decided by Clay himself, the man leading them on the front lines.

Wendel, however, was worried that this whole scheme would bring enormous pressure down on White Harbor's public order. After all, expecting a group of people who had grown up beyond the Wall, completely unfamiliar with life under noble rule, to suddenly integrate into Northern society overnight — that was simply impossible.

Wylis agreed with his younger brother's concerns. He knew all too well that, once the war was over, these people would inevitably bring about all sorts of problems. For one, none of these women had been married in the traditional sense, and their identities were questionable at best. Put plainly, in the North, they were born with a disadvantage. They would never be seen as truly whole or accepted.

What was worse, some of them would undoubtedly suffer abuse and live lives filled with misery.

But there was no other choice. This… was the price to be paid.

The moment they had chosen to follow Mance Rayder, they had already stepped onto a road of no return.

Clay was no saint. He couldn't help them, nor did he have the heart to pity them. There were already far too many tragedies brought about by war in this world.

The only thing he could do was bring the war to an end as quickly as possible. After all, the longer this dragged on, the more people would die.

In these chaotic times, anyone with the luxury to waste time feeling sorry for others… would be better off watching their own back first. Otherwise, by the time the blade was already at their throat, it would be far too late for regrets.

(Author Note: Multi-perspective storytelling is unavoidable—it has to progress simultaneously. After all, this isn't an NPC standing still, waiting for the protagonist to walk over. But don't worry, once the bigger events kick off, the story will naturally shift back to the protagonist's perspective.)

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