When the broad, towering silhouette of Winterfell finally came into view, Aegor let out a long sigh of relief. They had arrived at last.

The journey to return the little wolf to her den had gone unusually smoothly—at least for most of the group. Along the way, they encountered no noble lords blocking their path, no wildlings fleeing south ahead of winter, no pirates harassing the coast as rumored, and not even a bout of bad weather. From the Neck to Winterfell, the entire route had taken less than ten days.

As the leader of the party, Aegor enjoyed a superior’s privileges. He could ride either horseback or in a carriage, and he wasn’t required to stand night watch. By all logic, he should have been the most comfortable person in the group. Unfortunately, with Arya present, he had instead become the most exhausted. On the first two nights of Arya’s troubles, the girl insisted he rub her belly to help her fall asleep. When the pain woke her in the night, she’d shake him awake and ask him to continue. Even after the pain passed on the third day, she still climbed into Aegor’s bed as usual, claiming it was “for warmth.”

After several days of this, Aegor wasn’t just sleep-deprived. His body ached from awkward sleeping positions. He sniffed his tunic and seemed to catch a faint trace of blood.

A mischievous child was always a handful, but no matter. Once he delivered the girl back to her mother, he could finally escape this sea of torment.

…

The party continued forward, gradually passing into the winter town that surrounded Winterfell. With the cold season looming, the place was clearly more lively than it had been the last two times Aegor had come. The mountain clans, who did not farm and had no need to tend fields, had already migrated here with their belongings, claiming the most solid, well-sealed stone houses in preparation for winter. This was Arya’s home, and many people here could recognize her. Aegor told her to keep her hood up to avoid being seen.

Returning Lady Stark was, of course, a noble and honorable act in the North. But it would destroy the Night’s Watch’s reputation for neutrality. Since most of the Watch’s wealth lay in the South, it was better to keep things quiet.

As they neared Winterfell’s gates, the streets grew more crowded and animated. Aegor noticed a number of soldiers clad in the Stark’s grey livery running back and forth through the town, shouting and calling out as if gathering forces.

An approaching carriage gave Aegor the chance to ask what was going on. He stepped forward and called out, “Ser Rodrik!”

…

…

“Ah… Brothers of the Night’s Watch? Good afternoon.” The old knight looked perplexed. He had never seen so many men in black in one place before. He stared at Aegor’s company in confusion. “Winterfell welcomes all, but… Lord Eddard and his son Robb took most of our men with them. Only a handful of servants remain. I’m afraid we can’t accommodate so many of you inside the castle.”

“It’s fine. We’ll stay overnight in the winter town and head further north tomorrow.” With several dozen elite Westerland soldiers among them, Aegor wouldn’t have brought them into Winterfell regardless of its capacity. “What’s going on here? Why so much commotion?”

“Alas… it’s Roose Bolton’s damned bastard. The boy broke into Hornwood Castle, forced Lady Hornwood to marry him, and seized the castle. White Harbor also has its eye on the Hornwood lands, and they’ve sent troops north. Now, knights from House Manderly and Bolton forces are fighting in the Hornwood Forest with real swords and steel.” Ser Rodrik looked furious. “They show no respect for their liege lord! On orders from the Lord of Winterfell, I’m to lead an army to arrest and punish these traitors. But Robb took most of our standing forces south, so I’ve had to muster a new levy from the winter town. A complete madman…”

Aegor had heard of the Hornwood affair from the hundred Northern soldiers Robb had assigned to him. It all boiled down to one bloody truth: a power struggle caused by the lack of an heir.

The last male of House Hornwood had died without issue, and no successor had been clearly named. This left the lands open to opportunists—neighbors and distant kin—eager to seize the property, with Dreadfort and White Harbor the most aggressive.

Winter was coming. Wildlings and White Walkers were stirring. Yet while the North’s elite army marched south, the remaining houses squabbled like crows over carrion. The situation made Aegor truly feel the barbarism and chaos of this world, and it underscored a grim truth: in a feudal society that prized order and duty, nothing was more critical than a clear line of succession.

Roose Bolton’s bastard… that’s Ramsay Snow, isn’t it? Aegor had no time to dwell on other people’s family business. He only noted that yet another villain was rising, and he frowned. Even with the story diverging so wildly, the same villain still shows up to cause trouble. Is this just human nature, or something else entirely?

“He’s definitely mad, and madmen… are better off dead.” Aegor agreed with Rodrik’s assessment. Then an idea occurred to him. “Ser, as the Night’s Watch’s recruiting officer, let me say this in advance: The Wall does not want men like him. We can’t afford to sleep beside someone we have to keep a dagger ready for.”

“Don’t worry. Even without your word, I wouldn’t let that one live.” Rodrik shrugged, then glanced at Arya, who sat on another horse nearby. It had been a year since he last saw her, and with her face mostly hidden beneath her hood, the old knight didn’t recognize his young lady. He quickly looked away. “Chief Logistics Officer, it looks like there are a lot of Northern soldiers in your company?”

“Yes. Robb sent them to ensure Ser Jaime Lannister reaches the Wall safely,” Aegor answered frankly. “They’ll remain under my command until the threat of the wildlings and White Walkers is resolved.”

“I see. Well, Officer, may I ask a favor? Let me borrow some of those soldiers. Once I take Hornwood and deal with that bastard Bolton, I’ll send them back to report to you. Does that sound acceptable?”

“This…” Aegor hesitated. The North was clearly facing an emergency. As an outsider, he couldn’t find any good reason to refuse. In truth, maintaining the hundred men was an expensive burden. He nodded. “Very well, Ser. Come pick the ones you need. Once it’s over, have them report back at Harroway Town.”

“Thank you. I was worried these raw recruits wouldn’t be useful without experienced men to lead them.”

“Think nothing of it. The Night’s Watch and the North are family. We ought to help one another.” Aegor said evenly, hoping to deepen their rapport. Then he offered his farewells. “You go on ahead. I have a matter to discuss with Lady Stark, so I’ll head into the castle first.”

“Very well.”

—

After arranging for the bulk of his men to rest in the winter town, Aegor brought Arya and a few trusted retainers with him into Winterfell.

He met with Lady Catelyn under the guise of a visit and personally returned Arya to her care, reminding her not to speak of what had happened. With that, one of his main goals in heading north was achieved. He accepted her thanks and the guest treatment calmly, then took a walk through the familiar yet foreign castle.

Far from King’s Landing—a nest of schemes, traps, and power plays—Winterfell felt like another world. Here, in this political center of the North, within dozens or even hundreds of miles, nearly everyone was either his subordinate or his ally. The worst were passing strangers or a few Vale nobles with old grudges. There were no great lords who could crush him with a wave of the hand. No invisible enemies he had to tiptoe around. The enemy and ally were clear. He controlled the field. It felt good.

Breathing in the cool, clean northern air, he felt at ease. But the momentary peace also stirred a sense of guilt. His current leisure was made possible because he had dumped the entire burden of the Night’s Watch business onto Nina. She earned in the South. He spent in the North… Could that clever girl really handle it all?

As he was thinking about his capable “partner,” two slender figures suddenly appeared in the courtyard and walked straight toward him. The taller was a young woman, slender like Arya, with long brown hair tied behind her head. Her chest was flat, as if she were still a girl, but she moved with grace and poise. The other was shorter—a boy of thirteen or fourteen, dressed entirely in green, even his boots dyed the hue of fresh forgiveness.

“Greetings, Chief Logistics Officer.” The two youths stopped in front of the black-cloaked man. The girl looked at him with warm green eyes and smiled. Just one sentence swept away the calm Aegor had finally reclaimed. “I am Meera of House Reed. This is my brother, Jojen. He heard of your arrival and wished to meet you… It’s a pleasure to finally do so.”

(To be continued.)

***

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