“Wait!”

Aegor had expected Buckwell to eagerly accept his proposal, but the old man surprised him by raising a hand to stop him.

“Aegor, you’re certainly clever, I’ve seen it firsthand, and I have no doubt of it. But let me ask you: is your plan guaranteed to take the Bloody Gate?”

“No,” Aegor answered honestly. “It’s not about taking the Bloody Gate, it’s about taking the Vale of Arryn as a whole.” He continued, “The idea comes from the history of Tsena, my homeland. But given my limited knowledge of military strategy and my complete ignorance of the Vale’s specific conditions, I can’t make any guarantees.”

“In that case, I won’t present it to His Majesty,” Buckwell said, shaking his head. His gaze was steady as he looked at Aegor. “Don’t forget, we are the king’s bannermen, repaying our debts while proving our loyalty. We are not seeking glory, only avoiding failure. If your plan works, His Majesty will see it as expected of a noble lord offering counsel, he may not even be grateful. But if it fails and costs him time, he may well blame me. I have no intention of taking risks where the consequences outweigh the rewards.”

Aegor stroked his chin, frowning. “That’s… reasonable. Then what should I do?”

“If you ask me, you should advise Robert yourself,” Buckwell suggested. “You’re an officer of the Night’s Watch, appointed by the king himself. If your plan fails, he can’t truly blame you and even if he does, he has no power to punish a man sworn to the Wall, beyond his jurisdiction.”

It was a sound idea. But Aegor had already decided long ago he wouldn’t be the first to step forward. Advising Robert on how to crush the Vale’s so-called rebels? It wasn’t just a matter of whether it was appropriate for a Night’s Watchman to interfere in southern wars. If his plan succeeded, all would be well. But if it failed, and Robert was forced into a compromise with men like Yohn Royce, the Vale’s nobility would remember who had tried to break them and they would hold a grudge.

That being said, Aegor didn’t refuse outright. Months ago, back in Winterfell, he had resolved not to stand out too soon. But since then, his circumstances had changed drastically. He had proven that the future could be altered, and he no longer had to walk on eggshells, constantly watching for danger.

Now, the question wasn’t whether he could step forward, but whether doing so would bring him more benefit or harm.

“Go on,” Yoren urged from the side. “What are you afraid of? You think Robert will lop your head off if your plan fails? You’re already famous. Get a little more famous, and even Mormont won’t be able to touch you.”

Aegor ignored the old crow’s blunt words. As the chief logistics officer and founder of Night’s Watch Industries, his concerns went far beyond just keeping his head on his shoulders. He needed to weigh his options carefully.

He emptied his mind and thought.

Littlefinger was gone. Of the two great manipulators in King’s Landing, one had fallen. That left Varys… and when it came to the Vale’s rebellion, Varys had no reason to stand in his way. Even if the Spider was truly loyal to the Targaryens, he would prefer Westeros to remain stable until the Targaryens were ready to return.

As for the other Great Houses, Dorne and the Iron Islands might not care about this war, might even want the other six kingdoms to bleed themselves dry. But beyond them? No one else wanted this farce to drag on.

His plan wouldn’t offend any of the true power players. The only ones who might suffer were the nobles of the Righteous Alliance… and while they were formidable in the Vale, their reach ended there. As long as he stayed clear of them, they couldn’t touch him. Not when he was the Night’s Watch’s Chief Logistics Officer—a man with a title, influence, and position.

If the plan failed, he would suffer little more than embarrassment and the ire of a few petty lords. But if it succeeded? Not only would he protect the wealth of potential investors, but if Robert was pleased, he might even be able to ask for something in return.

Buckwell had said the risk outweighed the reward for him. But for Aegor? The reward far outweighed the risk.

“Alright,” Aegor decided. “If you think I should, then I will.”

At that moment, as the words left his lips, he made an even bolder decision.

His ambitions—his true ambitions—would require working alongside nobles, dealing with men of far greater status and power than himself. And to deal with them, he couldn’t afford to act small. Humility and meekness would only mark him as weak, someone to be used and discarded.

If he couldn’t yet display hard power, he would cultivate soft power instead.

Becoming a known name was the first step. The next step? Letting the world see that the Night’s Watch’s Chief Logistics Officer was a man of intellect and foresight, someone you could profit from working with, but risk opposing.

He was confident in his plan. The strategies he had drawn from history had worked before, and he judged his odds of success to be greater than fifty percent. Since he was going to step forward… he might as well do it in style.

“When’s the next war council?” he asked.

“Every morning,” Buckwell said. “Why? You planning to announce your plan publicly?”

“That’s right,” Aegor replied. “Tell His Majesty that I have a brilliant strategy. If he’s willing to listen, I’ll present it at the council before everyone.”

The time for playing it safe was over.

It was time to step onto the stage.

Leaving Buckwell’s tent, Aegor saw Casey waiting outside his own tent, two horses saddled and ready.

“Ser, are we leaving now?” Casey called.

“No,” Aegor said. “Take the gear down. Lead the horses back to the stable.”

Yoren let out a rough laugh. “Tomorrow, your master’s going to stir up some real trouble.”

Antlers wasn’t about to provide Yoren with his own tent, so the two Night’s Watchmen naturally shared one. Yoren, as always, was a mess, so before settling in for the night, Aegor had Casey take him for a shave, a bath, and a change of clothes. At least now, he didn’t reek.

The next morning, Aegor was up early, waiting outside Buckwell’s tent. Once the old earl had finished dressing, the two shared breakfast before heading toward Robert’s command tent, toward the king, the war council, and the moment Aegor would make his move.

Buckwell entered the tent, leaving Aegor outside, watching as the lords and commanders of the six kingdoms filed in one after another. He waited patiently.

From within the tent, voices rose and fell. Robert was a loud man, and as king, his voice naturally carried over everyone else’s, even without him shouting. Roughly ten minutes later, Aegor heard the words:

“Let him in!”

That was his cue.

A tall, handsome, white-haired Kingsguard stepped out of the tent. His sharp eyes scanned the gathered men and quickly found Aegor in his black cloak.

“You’re Aegor West?” he asked. “Come in.”

Judging by his age and bearing, this had to be Ser Barristan Selmy—the living legend, the man who had once captured the Faceless Man Jaqen H’ghar and bested the Red Viper of Dorne in single combat.

Just yesterday, Aegor had felt Oberyn Martell’s skill firsthand. Now, standing before the knight who had defeated him, he couldn’t help but study the old warrior a little longer. The thought that Selmy could probably dismantle him in moments made him uneasy. Still, he gave a nod of acknowledgment and stepped past the tent flaps.

The war tent was simple in its layout. At its center was a large square table, upon which lay a sand table representing the terrain around the Bloody Gate, the entrance to the Vale of Arryn. Miniature figures, representing both armies, were meticulously placed upon it.

The scene was clear: Robert’s loyalist forces outnumbered the rebels dozens of times over, their forces spread across the valley. Meanwhile, the noble houses of the Just Alliance remained within the Vale, surrounding the Eyrie, where Lord Arryn was trapped.

The density of game pieces was highest near the Bloody Gate. More than a dozen markers represented the royalist forces encamped in the fields and hills outside the pass, while on the high ground, only one piece represented the rebels.

One man guarding the pass, ten thousand men cannot break through.

Around the table stood the lords and commanders of the six kingdoms—excluding, of course, the Vale. The groups were clearly defined:

Buckwell stood beside Robert, with the other nobles of the Crownlands gathered nearby.

The Stormlanders, led by Renly Baratheon, stood together.

Robb Stark and his men represented the North.

The Lannisters, clad in their signature red and gold, stood apart.

Ser Loras Tyrell and Randyll Tarly led the knights of the Reach.

Edmure Tully, his face grim, stood with the Riverlords.

Dorne had sent the smallest contingent, Oberyn Martell smirked at Aegor with his usual unreadable expression.

The lords of the Vale, unsurprisingly, were absent. Robert had dismissed them from the meeting. Stannis Baratheon and Yara Greyjoy—”the charming little princess of the Iron Islands,” as some called her—were also missing. As for the royal fleet, they were occupied elsewhere.

“Well, well,” came a familiar voice. “So this is the famous White Walker slayer?”

Robert Baratheon’s voice was thick and rough. “You’ve got a plan to break into the Vale? Let’s hear it!”

Aegor’s gaze moved to the man seated at the head of the table, the only man seated in the tent.

Robert was disheveled and red-faced, a cup of wine resting before him. It was unclear whether he was still hungover from the night before or if he had already begun drinking after breakfast.

It was not Aegor’s first time seeing the king, but it was the first time they would speak face to face.

A drunkard and a degenerate, he thought. And yet, this man is the key to keeping the Seven Kingdoms at peace.

How absurd.

Even more absurd? That in the original timeline, Cersei Lannister—the fool—had poisoned Robert, thinking it was a victory in the game of thrones.

As if removing the one man holding the realm together wouldn’t send everything into chaos.

If not for Tywin Lannister’s military prowess and political acumen, she would have been someone else’s plaything before she even realized what had happened.

“Your Grace,” Aegor said, choosing his words carefully. “Before I begin, allow me to ask one thing.”

Old habits died hard, caution had kept him alive this long. Before he advised Robert, he needed clarity.

“Would my counsel violate the Night’s Watch’s vow of neutrality? Would offering advice to Your Grace on this matter be seen as interfering in the affairs of the Seven Kingdoms?”

***

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep