Lancelot accompanied Benjen Stark and his rangers on an exploration beyond the Wall. They passed through seven or eight wildling villages.
Finally, they reached Whitetree.
In the center of the village stood a massive weirwood tree, its canopy covering almost the entire village—a testament to how small the village was and how few people had lived there.
"Still empty! Ser Lancelot! I warned you long ago. The Free Folk have almost all gone elsewhere; no one is staying in their homes!" Aguda said, standing beneath the weirwood, his back to the terrible carved face.
"Then where is Mance Rayder's gathering point? Aguda, do you know?" Lancelot asked.
"He won't reveal it until the last moment. But it should be to the east. The west is the Frozen Shore; they can't gather there," Aguda replied.
"Is it Hardhome?" Lancelot pressed.
"I... I... I don't know!" Aguda looked flustered, avoiding Lancelot's eyes.
"Makes sense. A shrewd man like Mance Rayder wouldn't tell a child like you," Lancelot muttered to himself.
"Lord Benjen, there's nothing else here. It's time to head back," Lancelot called out to Benjen, who was still inspecting the area in the distance.
"Alright. Just one final check," Benjen replied.
They spent the night in Whitetree. The next day, Lancelot and his group began their return to Castle Black.
The journey was peaceful. No beast attacks, no wildlings, no White Walkers.
Until they reached the woods less than a kilometer from the Wall.
Lancelot's mount, the Snow-Treading Ebony Courser (Little Snow), seemed to sense something. It carried Lancelot toward a thicket.
"Little Snow, what's wrong?" Lancelot patted her neck.
She responded with a whinny Lancelot couldn't understand. Not knowing beast-speak is really frustrating!
In the thicket, Lancelot discovered a body covered by a black cloak.
He immediately dismounted and shouted to those behind him.
"There's a dead crow here! Come take a look."
Benjen and the others turned pale. Their faces, already red from the cold, instantly went ashen.
Lancelot turned the body over. A shard of a sword was embedded in the left eye. The right eye was open, revealing a blue pupil. Judging by his appearance, he wasn't very old—no more than twenty.
"Who is this? Died pretty miserably," Lancelot murmured.
"This is... Ser Waymar Royce!" Benjen Stark arrived beside Lancelot and gasped upon seeing the corpse.
"What? This is Waymar Royce? The missing ranger? But how is he here? Did he walk back? Or something else?" Lancelot asked.
"I don't know, but his situation is complicated. Let's take him back to Lord Commander Mormont and the others!"
Benjen Stark tied Waymar Royce's body to his horse and led the horse on foot back to Castle Black.
When the others saw the dead Waymar Royce, their expressions turned grim. He was truly dead. When Gared returned, he had claimed Ser Waymar Royce and Will had died beyond the Wall, killed by White Walkers. No one had believed him.
Later, Gared fled and was beheaded by Eddard Stark outside Winterfell.
"I'm afraid Waymar Royce has long since become a wight. Look at his eye—it wasn't that color before," said a Night's Watch brother who had joined around the same time as Royce.
"We should burn him. Only ashes bring peace of mind. A corpse feels too unsettling," another said.
"No. We keep him. Wait for him to turn. Let him come back to life in front of everyone. Then I will capture him alive and bring him back—alive. To show King Robert, Eddard Stark, and the other nobles," Lancelot declared.
"Ser Lancelot, do you have a way to bring him back alive?" Maester Aemon asked.
Lancelot brought out a black coffin. He told them that this coffin could seal evil entities. Sealing a wight would be no problem.
"In that case, none of us sleep tonight. We wait for him to rise again!"
---
The Hour of the Wolf passed, and the men of the Night's Watch were still awake, watching the room vigilantly. Inside, there was nothing but a corpse—Waymar Royce's corpse.
Outside, people waited anxiously. Inside, on the table, the previously motionless corpse began to move.
He sat up stiffly, then walked with heavy steps toward the door.
Outside, everyone held their breath. Hearing the footsteps, they drew their swords.
Lancelot also held his shield and spear ready.
The door was pushed open. A corpse, a walking dead man, stepped out. His one good eye burned with blue fire as he looked at the crowd.
"Waymar Royce!" Benjen Stark called out, wanting to see if the creature still recognized him.
Waymar Royce seemed to hear something. He looked at Benjen Stark, opened his mouth wide, and lunged at him.
Benjen Stark swung his sword, striking the creature on the shoulder. But it was useless.
Waymar Royce was long dead; he felt no pain. His mouth gaped wide, aiming for Benjen's neck.
Lancelot smashed him with his shield, knocking the wight's head to the side.
"Quick! Bind him with ropes, then put him in the coffin," Lancelot ordered.
Aguda threw a rope as thick as a rice bowl, and together with Alliser Thorne, they bound Waymar Royce.
Finally, Podrick picked him up and placed him in the coffin. Inside, Waymar Royce continued to writhe, trying to escape.
Only when Lancelot personally closed the lid did the movement inside cease.
"It seems this coffin is useful after all," Lancelot thought.
"We will transport this coffin back south to King's Landing. Do not send large patrols beyond the Wall recently. Wildlings aren't the scary ones; the White Walkers are!" Lancelot addressed the Night's Watch.
All the men of the Night's Watch realized the gravity of the situation.
Some wanted to flee, even planning to escape immediately—steal the fastest horse from the stables and release the others so no one could pursue them.
"Will support for the Night's Watch come? Ser Lancelot, you must give us a guarantee!" Lord Commander Mormont said.
Even living nearly seventy years, this was the first time he had seen the dead rise.
"What is the Night's Watch? I need not remind you. You are the sword in the darkness, the watcher on the walls, the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men."
"With you here, the Seven Kingdoms will not face the threat from the North. Therefore, the King and the Lords will absolutely not abandon you! I promise you that," Lancelot said solemnly.