Game of Dragonborn.

Chapter 143 - Arriving at Winterfell.

[Chapter Size: 2000 Words.]

Third Person POV.
North.

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The troops began to move, entering Stark territory.
Leading the group of 5,000 men was Bak, to whom Daemon had given command of this squad to form a force capable of creating a small siege at Winterfell.
It didn't take long for them to enter Stark lands. While his men terrified anyone in sight—whether fleeing peasants or enemy scouts.
Bak gathered the men as soon as they made their first camp at nightfall in these lands, needing to organize the troops.
He was a bit clumsy and clearly preferred Val to lead the group, but Daemon didn't deny her request to follow him while they were still in the southern lands.

"So, what do we have on these kneelers?" Bak immediately asked as he gathered a dozen men around him, using a map Daemon had provided.

The free folk had never in their lives needed to organize into a descending military company. All they ever did north of the Wall was run through the forest toward enemies and kill them individually. They never thought about acting in an organized way or having a collective formation.
That was until Daemon arrived north of the Wall and forced them to follow strict war orders, create formations, maintain them, think of the group as a whole, protect it by doing their part in the formation, and march—march long distances while maintaining order and discipline among the men, managing logistics and resources, saving where possible, and always keeping an eye on the regional map, carefully choosing paths to avoid ambushes or getting trapped and delayed.

Bak was performing all these duties, feeling quite lost, yet still managing. He just didn't want their leader to feel ashamed for having trusted him.

"We have some enemy scouts... Looks like those ironborn men Daemon fought on Bear Island. But there are also men with the flayed man banner." one of them said, being one of the few wargs watching the skies among the 5,000 free folk.

"Looks like our enemies already found us... So be it." another laughed, excited to destroy them.

"The leader isn't here, so we can have a bit of fun," said another, as they were having a hard time killing—Daemon often solved everything alone or even without fighting.

"We still need to maintain the troops and not go around chasing men just for watching us," Bak said, trying to keep them focused.

"They're just kneelers... we can handle them," another laughed.

"Even so... we must be careful. I don't want to suffer losses before we reach the castle, do you understand?! Always keep an eye on the enemy. And remember, we're kneelers here too." Bak said.

"Kneelers?!" another made a face at that.

"We're following the leader who will command everyone south of the Wall. If we have to kneel to someone, at least let it be to the one who took us out of that frozen desert full of dead." Bak said.

Many nodded in agreement while others didn't seem to like it much, but remained silent.

The free folk did not admit it openly, but they were enchanted by the South. First, when they were in the heart of the North—while it was still summer, even if at its end—there wasn't much snow at that time, and they experienced earth beneath their feet for the first time.
It was, at the very least, invigorating to see so much green, and they couldn't even imagine what the South might be like, though they had heard many stories.

In any case, the group organized the best path, though there weren't many difficulties, as this region of Stark territory was quite flat, with only a few hills and clusters of forest—nothing as large as the Wolfswood in the western side of the North—while the free folk group led by Bak were entering from the east side, which belonged to the Boltons.