Jon stared in shock. Alliser convulsed for a brief moment, then went still. The soldier who had killed him smiled grimly, "His Imperial Highness must have assumed you had them here." Snow had no words. The soldier had saved his life, but he could not bring himself to thank him. Jon had never seen anything like this in his entire life. The soldier continued, "This is a flintlock pistol. It uses gunpowder to create a small explosion. This explosion propels a projectile at incredible speed. You have no idea what I am talking about, do you?"

Jon managed to speak, "I- I have some idea. I have never seen anything like this before. I have never even heard a maester speak of such a thing. A Septon would call it sorcery. The power of a dragon, wielded by a man."

The soldier holstered his weapon and extended a hand, "Captain Wilhelm Hausberg, 7th Reikland Handgunner Regiment, at your service. I apologize for the over-complicated explanation, I tend to ramble, especially when it comes to technology. I can most certainly assure you that it is not sorcery. Simple engineering, nothing more."

Jon shook his hand hesitantly. He was finally getting over what had just happened, and curiosity was replacing shock. He had a hundred questions, but did not want to annoy Hausberg. The captain drew the pistol again, and gestured Jon to come closer, "I am very tired at this moment, but I will gladly show you how this operates tomorrow."

Jon nodded, "I will have someone burn the body. A pleasure to meet you Captain, and I look forward to your explanation. I do have to ask though. Would it be possible to construct more of such weapons here?"

"Simple wood and steel is all that it is needed to make the weapon itself. You would need saltpeter to make the powder for the charge, which is slightly more difficult. Overall though, it shouldn't be too much of a problem. From the briefing I received, it sounds like you boys need all the help you can get."

Jon nodded. It was true. The dead were on the march, and would assault The Wall sooner or later. With the arrival of the Emperor however, the tide may well have turned.

Jon was suddenly hit by a wave of fatigue, "Forgive me Captain, but I must get some sleep. I will see you tomorrow." The two men parted for the night. Jon returned to his room, and was asleep in minutes.

He dreamed of fire and death. Alliser died again and again in his dream, and Hausberg breathed fire like a dragon each time. Jon woke several times, each drenched in sweat and panicked. By the time he fell asleep properly, it was nearly dawn.

Olly couldn't sleep, no matter how hard he tried. He was simultaneously relieved and disgusted. Snow had told him about the attempt on his life before he went to bed. Olly was relieved that it had failed, and disgusted that he had briefly considered Thorne's offer to assist him in his plot. He would never forget the response he had given Thorne when he had refused, "I would sooner be hanged than betray my brothers".

Thorne had told him that under no uncertain terms he would be hanged if he informes Snow of the plan. Nevertheless, he had been about to tell his Lord Commander when the shot was fired. "Which side am I on?" he thought to himself. It was a valid question. Was helping the Wildlings survive collaboration with an enemy, or a desperate act to save all life in Westeros.

He sighed. Boys his age should not have such responsibility placed on their shoulders. Nevertheless, here he was. He turned over. He had to get some sleep. Eventually he did, and dreamed not of the death of his parents this time. He instead dreamed of his own death. The faceless shadow he was fighting in his dream was too quick. Olly thrust his sword. The shadow sidestepped. Olly lunged again, only to miss again, and be impaled by the shadow's longsword.

He could almost feel the blade in his chest. The taste of his own blood filled his mouth, and he wept as he drowned in it. He felt himself die, then saw something that made him gasp: his parents smiling sadly at him. Olly felt a weightless feeling he could even not begin to describe. He realized with awe what was happening. He was ascending towards his parents. He reached out his hand to his mother, who did the same. A split second before they touched, he woke up with a start.

Olly sat up, and the tears came almost immediately. He wiped them away, but could not prevent several sobs from escaping. He looked outside. It was dark, and he realized he probably wasn't asleep for very long. He sighed and laid back down. With some horror, he caught himself wishing the dream was real. He wanted to be dead. He shook his head. No. He owed it to them to keep going, and damn the consequences. His Parents had given their all to raise him, and he would give his all to live. Sleep took much longer to reach this time, but when it did, it was mercifully dreamless.