What a coincidence?

Of course, Aegor knew exactly what Maester Aemon was referring to. The death of Jon Arryn marked the beginning of the main storyline. It was an important moment, a pivotal turning point in the grand scheme of things. But right now, he didn’t have the energy to think about such matters. Nearly ten days and nights of fleeing had left him utterly drained, physically and mentally. Although he had managed to hold his own during his interrogation by several high-ranking members of the Night’s Watch, his composure had come at the cost of what little strength and clarity he had left. By the time it was over, it felt as though the last bit of his brainpower had evaporated. Supported by two rangers, he barely made it to the confinement room before collapsing onto the bed and falling into a deep sleep.

The so-called “confinement,” which was more akin to semi-imprisonment, lasted several days. For most, such a punishment would have been a torment, but for Aegor, it was a blessing. He spent his days eating and sleeping, not even required to participate in training. It was an unintentional respite, one that allowed him to rest for hours on end and finally regain his strength.

But after he had rested enough, it was time to confront the issues weighing on his mind—his future, his fate.

—

Littlefinger had killed the previous Hand of the King. During the King’s impending tour of the North, Robert would invite the Warden of the North, Eddard Stark, to take on the role… and from there, the Game of Thrones would begin.

But what did all this have to do with him, a member of the Night’s Watch? Practically nothing. The only connection was that the late Jon Arryn had been the Lord of the Eyrie, the Warden of the East, ruler of the Vale, and liege lord of the Royce family, Waymar Royce’s family. How would “Bronze Yohn” Royce react when news of his lord’s death and his son’s disappearance reached him? Perhaps, if he was lucky, Yohn would be too preoccupied to pursue the man who “killed” his son. Perhaps he would simply let the matter go.

Aegor laughed bitterly to himself. Pinning his hopes on someone’s indifference or mercy was a gamble and a stupid one at that. This was a cruel world, and such gambles rarely paid off.

The wrath of the Royce family, however, was far removed from his immediate concerns. Aegor had more pressing problems to deal with. Benjen Stark had been recalled to Winterfell by his older brother to attend a feast welcoming the king. When Benjen returned to the Wall, he would inevitably lead a ranging party north in search of the White Walkers and Waymar. As the one appointed by the chief ranger to act as a guide, Aegor had little doubt that his fate would mirror that of the ill-fated rangers in the original timeline, either dead in the snow or turned into a living corpse, much like Benjen himself.

Neither option was acceptable.

He had to act.

Through a conversation with the black brother who delivered his meals, Aegor learned that Gary had finally woken from his coma. He decided to visit him after lunch. If he could get a moment alone, he might be able to ask Gary about a way to cross the canyon. True, his current restrictions meant he couldn’t access the stables or leave the camp, but walking around Castle Black was still allowed.

But before he could put this plan into action, he was summoned by the Night’s Watch leadership.

—

“Are we setting off already?” Aegor thought nervously as he entered the meeting room. The scene inside was eerily similar to the one during his interrogation. The only difference was that someone unexpected was seated in the interrogation chair.

“Will? You’re alive!?”

“Aegor!” The man turned to him, his voice full of surprise. The speaker, however, looked haggard. When Aegor and Gary had fled, they’d taken the only two horses left. Waymar’s warhorse had returned to Castle Black earlier, but without a mount or supplies, Will had been forced to make his way back on foot. The journey had taken longer and been far more grueling. If not for his survival skills as a former poacher and his ability to evade the White Walkers, he would never have made it back alive.

Will, who had never been robust to begin with, now looked like a shadow of his former self. His thin frame seemed barely able to support him, and half a bowl of porridge sat untouched on the table in front of him. He drank from it with trembling hands, his movements slow and unsteady. “The Seven bless you,” he rasped. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be dead!”

“What?” Aegor was confused. Will had survived because of his own resourcefulness. What did it have to do with him?

“That day, I was hiding in a tree. I saw Ser Waymar cut down by those creatures—those ghosts. I stayed in the tree for a long time after they left, too afraid to come down. When I finally did, I went to look for something I could take back as proof… but then he—Ser Waymar—he stood back up. His body was mangled, his wounds terrible, but his eyes… they were glowing blue. He reached out, trying to strangle me. It was… it was horrifying. If you hadn’t told me to be careful of the dead, I’d never have reacted in time!”

Aegor was stunned. So that was how it had happened. The words he had spoken in desperation, almost as an afterthought, had saved Will’s life. He had never imagined they would prove so crucial. But what was the point of calling him here now?

He glanced around the room and noticed something on the table in front of the senior members of the Night’s Watch.

It was Waymar Royce’s sword.

The blade, once made of fine steel, was now shattered. Only the hilt, the tip of the sword, and a small portion of the base remained intact. The rest of the blade had been splintered into countless fragments, as though struck by lightning. Despite his ordeal, Will had somehow managed to recover most of the pieces and bring them back to Castle Black after his long, harrowing journey.

The shattered sword had been reassembled as best as it could, the pieces laid out like a puzzle. The breaks were clean, the fragments fitting together almost seamlessly, as if the weapon had been smashed all at once by some unimaginable force.

This, Aegor realized, was powerful evidence. The sword’s condition, coupled with Will’s testimony, could turn things around, for both of them.

“Take Will to rest,” Benjen Stark, who had been sitting silently, finally spoke. “Don’t let him eat too much at once. A starving man doesn’t know when he’s full. Rest is what he needs most.”

Two black brothers helped Will to his feet and escorted him from the room. As he left, Will called out to Aegor, still asking how he had known about the dead rising again. Once the room was quiet again, Benjen gestured for Aegor to sit.

“What Will said aligns with what you and Gary reported,” Commander Mormont began gravely. “Judging by his condition, I don’t think you three colluded to fabricate this story.”

Mormont’s tone softened slightly. “I now have reason to believe that there is indeed a strange and dangerous enemy north of the Wall. Perhaps it’s the White Walkers or something worse.”

It wasn’t just Will’s words that had swayed the leadership. During Aegor’s confinement, the Night’s Watch blacksmiths had conducted experiments, trying to replicate the damage to the shattered sword. No one had been able to mimic the effect, proving that Waymar’s weapon had been destroyed by something beyond human capability.

“I’ll be leaving for Winterfell soon,” Benjen continued. “You’ll come with me. You’ll report your experiences directly to the Lord of Winterfell. Bring Gary and Will as well, along with the broken swords. Prepare a clear and concise version of events. My brother will be busy with King Robert’s arrival, so you’ll need to make your case quickly.”

Maester Aemon nodded. “Don’t overthink it. You did well when reporting to us, just do the same when speaking to Eddard Stark.”

“I understand,” Aegor replied, suppressing the excitement rising within him. “I’ll prepare right away.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep