Jarman Buckwell brought over two hundred soldiers to Nightfort, and the Flint clan also sent hundreds of warriors to assist. With manpower more than sufficient, the operation proceeded smoothly.

Aegor didn’t care to know the specific details of entering the New Gift village to apprehend the killer, so he didn’t ask Buckwell for a full report. But there was no doubt that the operation met resistance, as expected. Unfortunately, one side had fully armed soldiers, while the other was made up of villagers barely able to wield proper weapons. As long as the commander showed half the decisiveness he did during the ambush at the Red Keep and the attack on Stark soldiers, the riot was quelled with ease.

The former Free Folk, organized into clans, functioned like large families. To survive in the brutal conditions north of the Wall, internal unity was stronger than anything most southerners could imagine. However, unity between clans was far less solid than the Night’s Watch had initially feared.

After a bloody suppression, the small clan known as “Tur,” numbering no more than three hundred people—the same clan where Meera Reed was nearly violated and where Lord Commander Mormont met his end—was completely destroyed. All adult males were eliminated, and the women and children were forcibly divided among the remaining clans. The Tur clan was erased from existence. Surprisingly, the other New Gift villages remained calm. In fact, those villages Aegor and two Free Folk had previously visited sent representatives to Castle Black for Lord Commander Mormont’s funeral and publicly expressed support for the Night’s Watch’s handling of the Tur clan.

…

As for the so-called “real killer,” when he was brought before the Night’s Watch officers, he was already unfit to defend himself. His disfigured face even drew some faint pity from Aegor and the other senior officers. They frowned but ultimately sentenced him to death for violating the laws of the Gift and guest rights. He was promptly hanged and his corpse displayed on the gallows outside Castle Black, a warning to the rest of the New Gift people.

Truth and justice? In the face of larger interests, they meant nothing.

—

Public execution and the hanging of bodies along main roads as a deterrent—this was something Aegor had only seen in video games and films before crossing into this world. But here, in this backward land, it was one of the most direct and cost-effective means of deterrence. Its impact was far more potent than any legal education program Aegor’s staff could attempt.

Jarman Buckwell had originally proposed hanging every single rioter killed during the suppression, displaying them along the Wall and the Kingsroad from Castle Black to Crown Town, placing one corpse every few miles to make sure every New Gift settlement saw the consequences of rebellion. But after consideration, Aegor ultimately felt it would be more damaging than helpful. The gesture was simply too unfriendly and would harm long-term stability, so he rejected the idea.

“The killer has been punished. Before the next Lord Commander is elected, I propose an amendment to the Gift’s laws,” Aegor said. “We need to establish a strict collective punishment system. If one person breaks the law, their family, relatives, and neighbors will all be held jointly responsible and penalized. This will encourage mutual oversight within the New Gift communities, greatly reducing the burden and cost of law enforcement.”

“A good suggestion,” said Denys Mallister, Commander of the Shadow Tower, with a smile. “But Lord Cotter Pyke, Lord Bowen Marsh, and I have reached a different conclusion. The three of us have agreed to suspend the Gift resettlement plan.”

The three leading conservative figures had reached a consensus?

Aegor’s heart tensed, though his face remained calm. “Is that so? Then, Ser Denys, how do you propose to deal with the New Gift People who have already crossed the Wall?”

“Send them back north,” Denys replied. “Of course, they won’t be happy about it, but there are options. Haven’t you already arranged with the Iron Bank for loans to procure grain? The ships from Braavos bring food but must return empty. Let those Free Folk—well, New Gift People—take those ships across the Narrow Sea and fend for themselves.”

“Fend for themselves?” Aegor forced a laugh. “Lords, surely you’re aware of what awaits them across the Narrow Sea. Once they land, they’ll have no choice but to become slaves. This is no different from slave trading. If I recall correctly, Commander Mormont’s son, Jorah Mormont, was sentenced to death by Lord Eddard Stark for that very crime.”

“We’re not taking money,” Bowen Marsh replied, his normally stern face unusually relaxed, with even a touch of smugness. “So how could it be considered slave trading? And either way, better a slave than food for the White Walkers. If they meet a kind master, their lives may even be better than ours.”

…

Aegor had long relied on twisted logic to navigate obstacles, but now he was facing the side effects—his opponents had learned to use the same tricks.

Fortunately, he still had one final card to play. “Understood. But let me ask you this—have you agreed on a candidate for the next Lord Commander?”

“Not yet. But no matter who’s chosen, we’ll carry this out,” Denys said.

“‘No matter who is elected’? That means you haven’t agreed on a candidate,” Aegor replied, clenching his fist. “Then allow me to state this: I, the appointed leader of the Gift resettlement plan, answer only to the orders of the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. When a new Commander is chosen, I will follow their directives. Until then, I will continue executing the instructions left by Lord Commander Mormont.”

This statement struck hard. In reality, many things cannot be done when strictly adhering to the rules. But if someone insists on doing so, no one can openly object. Aegor now played that exact role.

…

“In that case,” said Denys Mallister with a smile, turning to Cotter Pyke, “it seems we have no choice but to elect a Lord Commander as soon as possible.”

“I was thinking the same,” the Commander of Eastwatch-by-the-Sea replied, matching his old rival’s gaze.

As veterans who had run against Jeor Mormont in the last election, Cotter Pyke, Bowen Marsh, and Denys Mallister all understood that, barring surprises, the next Lord Commander would be one of them.

Originally, they had feared that the newly arrived “Chief Logistics Officer” might emerge as a dark horse and agreed to join forces to push Aegor out of the race. Cotter Pyke had even brought Lords of the Vale from Eastwatch to ensure this.

But now, Aegor had publicly withdrawn from the election and dealt swiftly with Mormont’s killer, giving the Watch the closure it needed. At least for Cotter Pyke and Denys Mallister, there was no longer any reason—or excuse—to target him.

After all, they held no personal grudges.

…

Having successfully redirected the old men’s hostility toward each other, Aegor wiped the cold sweat from his brow as he stepped out of the council chamber. Samwell Tarly’s suggestion, by some twist of fate, had spared him from disaster. It wasn’t hard to imagine what might’ve happened had he tried to lead the underpowered reformist faction into open battle with the conservatives. If he had formally entered the race…

They would have swarmed him.

Old rumors would be dredged up—tales of abandoning his comrades to flee from the White Walkers, or running off to King’s Landing to bask in Lannister luxury. Worse yet, baseless accusations would spread: whispers of mistresses in the capital, or even scandalous lies like making a “certain little boy” bleed through his breeches.

Even if they failed to remove him, he’d be buried in chaos, unable to focus on his true work.

The strength and cunning of the conservatives far exceeded his expectations. Though he had managed to sidestep a major crisis and could continue advancing the Gift plan for now by stoking infighting among them, it was only a temporary fix. Winter was here, and his plan to build a miniature kingdom was moving forward. Eventually, the Gift would need a leader with absolute authority.

If he wanted to keep playing the grand game he’d set in motion, then he had to become that man. And to do that, staying in Castle Black and giving stirring speeches wouldn’t be nearly enough.

He would have to move faster.

Aegor once again felt the sting of fate’s whip at his back. And to keep from letting all the chips he had placed on the board go to waste… he had no choice but to run harder than ever.

(To be continued.)

***

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