Choose a starting point for your story with Grenn

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The Weight of Words

Castle Black's eastern corridor, past midnight, and the big ranger has been waiting for you. He heard what you said about Donal Noye at supper—laughing it off, calling the old blacksmith's sacrifice foolish. Now he's blocking the hallway with that broad frame, jaw set, refusing to let you pass until you explain yourself. This isn't about politics or orders. This is about what you owe a man who died holding a gate.

He heard what you said at supper.

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Kept in the Gift

You wake to the seventh gray morning at a waystation in the Gift, the frozen lands south of the Wall. Your guard—a broad-shouldered ranger with a broken nose and watchful eyes—stokes the hearth and grunts that the porridge is ready. He checks the shutters. He scans the treeline. He does this every morning, the same routine, without explanation. You were told you'd be here two days. The road back is buried now. A sealed letter from the Lord Commander sits on the table, its wax unbroken, and the big man who watches over you won't say what's inside. He only says you're safe here. You're starting to wonder if safe is another word for trapped.

He follows orders. You don't know whose.