Aside from White Harbor, Robb and the hundred or so Winterfell guards he had brought with him had never seen a livelier place north of the Neck.

The wooden houses were occupied by employees of the Night’s Watch Logistics Department, who were busy yet orderly as they received guests in their storefronts. They were solely responsible for selling food, clothing, and daily necessities. At least four fully armed guards stood watch at the entrance of each building. Since essential resources were sold at official prices with no room for bargaining, even though the customer traffic was substantial, transactions were swift and silent—pay the money, verify identity, then collect the goods.

“To ensure safety, these storefronts do not store any goods. All vital materials are kept in warehouses behind the walls and are transported to the storefronts each morning by Logistics Department personnel before opening. Key items such as food are distributed on a quota basis. Sales of individual items are limited by the size of each tribe’s population. That means tribes can buy a little less to save silver for other things, but they absolutely cannot buy even slightly more.”

Aegor had left the Gift troops he brought stationed at the original gathering point and was gradually disbanding them. Leading the inspection team with Robb, he proceeded slowly along the final stretch of the Kingsroad toward Crown Town, explaining as they rode.

“Besides Night’s Watch brothers and Logistics personnel, no one is allowed to carry weapons on this street. Any disruptive behavior, such as shouting or fighting, is strictly forbidden. Violators will be severely punished.”

Robb kept nodding but was intrigued by Aegor’s last remark. “What kind of severe punishment?”

“There are three levels depending on the severity of the offense: fines, lashes, and hanging. The Gift lacks the necessary law enforcement and judicial capacity, and we don’t have the resources to fully implement a legal system. For now, we can only resort to simple and crude methods.”

“Only those three punishments?” Robb frowned in puzzlement. “It is simple and crude, but isn’t it a bit… extreme?”

“I understand your concern, but the situation in the Gift is different from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. There are no rich folk here. Money is food, clothing, tools—resources people rely on to survive. No one dares consider themselves wealthy, especially not the New Gift Folk who’ve just arrived. So naturally, there’s no situation where someone pays a fine and continues breaking the law with impunity.”

Aegor quickly added, “Also, the fine isn’t just imposed on the offender. It’s calculated per head and applied to every member of their tribe. Most importantly, even if the offender’s crime is serious enough to warrant flogging or hanging, the collective fine is still enforced.”

Robb was startled. “The joint fine is still enforced regardless? So even if someone is hanged, their entire tribe still suffers the punishment?”

“Yes. It may sound unprecedented and unreasonable, but no one has ever accepted such large numbers of Free Folk before. Extraordinary circumstances require extraordinary measures. This method not only makes the New Gift Folk engage in self-policing, but also helps weaken their tribalism and prevent potential threats to the Gift’s stability.”

“Then wouldn’t the larger tribes be at a disadvantage?”

“We welcome large tribes to voluntarily divide themselves.” Aegor shrugged. So far, no tribe had made such a request, but if they did in the future, he would gladly assist.

“What if a large tribe protects its own and resists the Night’s Watch’s law enforcement?”

“Thanks to the self-destruction of a tribe called ‘Tull’, the Night’s Watch has already made a bloody example for the New Gift Folk to see what happens when you do that. I’ve done all I can to feed these people and prevent them from being sent back Beyond the Wall to die, or across the Narrow Sea as slaves. I don’t ask for gratitude—only that they don’t cause me trouble. If they can’t even manage that, then even my patience has its limits… and I will be angry.”

Anyone with half a brain could understand the meaning behind Aegor’s words. Robb had already heard much of what had been going on in the Gift. This strict management and firm stance reassured him. He had only asked out of curiosity, so he didn’t press the matter further. As the group advanced, he quickly became interested in the roadside stalls.

Peddlers were hawking their wares, customers even louder. Children’s laughter and cries rang out amid the crowd. Pigs grunted, sheep bleated, chickens clucked, ducks quacked, all creating a chaotic medley. Human voices mixed with music, but sadly, the melodies were anything but pleasant. After hearing a few notes, it was clear the sounds didn’t come from real instruments, and neither the musicians nor singers were professionals.

Winterfell, seat of House Stark, was considered lively in the North. But compared to this, it was as quiet as a sept.

…

“Key supplies are controlled by the Night’s Watch Logistics Department, but we also allow Grey Area Citizens to trade other things among themselves—foraged goods, hunting spoils, handmade items, livestock they’ve raised. Of course, the New Gift Folk who have just arrived don’t have much to trade besides labor. Most stallholders are original Grey Area Citizens. In a sense, they are the ‘locals.'”

Yam had carried out Aegor’s arrangements exceptionally well—better than expected. What lay before them was not just a stage set up to impress visiting leaders. The Night’s Watch Logistics Department had gathered a portion of the Mountain Clans and Free Folk who could speak the common tongue and were relatively honest and cooperative, assigned large numbers of guards, slightly adjusted the pricing of essential resources that day, controlled who was authorized to interact with the visitors, and temporarily offered free food and housing. All of this created the appearance of a bustling yet orderly “Capital of the Gift.”

The scene in Crown Town would shape Robb Stark’s first impression of the Gift resettlement plan—and first impressions often hold sway over future decisions.

Robb wasn’t the only one interested in the stalls. While Aegor continued explaining the layout of Crown Town, Arya suddenly leapt off her horse and dashed excitedly toward the roadside vendors.

Robb and the Winterfell guards reined in their horses at once, dismounted, and hurried after the young Lady Stark.

…

The person who had thrown the stone that killed Lord Commander Mormont may have acted alone—perhaps in rage after losing loved ones during the wight attack on the last group passing through the Wall. Perhaps he hadn’t even meant to kill the Old Bear. But speculation was useless. That stone, which weighed no more than two pounds, struck a vital point and ended the life of a noble and wise commander.

That single act drove mistrust of the New Gift Folk to an all-time high among the Night’s Watch, Grey Area Citizens, and Northerners. It nearly crippled the Gift resettlement plan. Just moments ago, Robb had joked about whether he should wear a helmet while entering Crown Town. Now that Arya had run off on her own, his anxiety resurfaced.

(This place hardly has any Free Folk on the streets. There is no safer place in the Gift than here.) Aegor knew that perfectly well, but to complete the act, he feigned concern and dismounted to follow the willful little she-wolf.

Though Arya was a noble, she wasn’t some cloistered highborn girl unfamiliar with the world. She nimbly weaved through chicken coops, stalls selling gloves and boots, chased a cat for a few steps and scared it off, then followed an unfamiliar smell to a roadside stall selling roasted game.

On a small stone stove lay a dozen skewers—roasting meat from birds, rabbits, and even some unidentifiable rodents.

“What’s this?” Arya reached out and grabbed a skewer.

“Quail,” the stall owner answered, annoyed at her for grabbing it without asking. But when he looked up and saw the Winterfell entourage surrounding her like stars around the moon, he realized this whole Crown Town setup might have been for these visitors.

“Maybe not. They’re all small birds anyway… taste about the same. Stuffed with onions. Three copper.”

“You’re still charging her?” A Winterfell guard growled. “Do you know who stands before you?”

The stall owner glanced around. He didn’t recognize anyone but knew what to say. “Everyone… has to pay.”

“Who’s carrying money?” Robb shrugged. He hadn’t come to throw his weight around. He wouldn’t let his sister eat for free, but as Lord of Winterfell, he didn’t make a habit of traveling with pocket change.

“I’ve got it.” Seeing the Winterfell folk beginning to dig through their pockets, Aegor stepped forward as the host and handed over three copper coins.

Arya bit into the small bird on the stick. The roasted meat was fragrant and greasy. She even crunched the bones before swallowing.

“I want another!”

Aegor obliged and bought her another skewer. As Arya happily prepared to leave, she suddenly realized no one else was eating. That felt a bit awkward.

“No need, I appreciate the thought. But I’m not hungry,” Robb waved her off.

“If he doesn’t want it, you eat it, Master!”

It was a classic case of “I’m treating, you’re paying.” Amused by Arya’s shameless generosity, Aegor took out a silver coin and bought everything left on the stall.

Half a minute later, Robb, Aegor, Ser Rodrik, and a few captains of the guard continued their walk toward the gate of Crown Town, each holding a roasted skewer.

With one bite, the onions stuffed into the small birds gave a satisfying crunch, and the meat’s juices filled their mouths. Robb devoured his skewer in a few bites, then wiped his mouth and hands with a cloth. “It’s not like we can’t eat this stuff in Winterfell. Roast chicken, duck, goose—just say the word to the kitchen. They’ve got it all.”

“They’re always making lemon cakes. I can’t stand desserts.”

Robb smiled helplessly. “That’s because Sansa told them she likes lemon cakes. You never said what you like. How would they know?”

“To be honest, these small birds sometimes taste better than coop-raised poultry.”

“Children always prefer snacks to meals.”

“I’m not a child!”

Aegor had been briefing the Warden of the North on Crown Town’s overall situation, but Arya, ever the interrupter, had steered the conversation off-course. Truthfully, the game birds weren’t particularly remarkable. But when one had been traveling all day and it was near supper, even the simplest food tasted good. Everyone walked their horses while chewing their skewers, nearing the gate of Crown Town.

As the host, Aegor finally steered the topic back on track. “Everyone living in the Gift may visit Crown Town, but this gate only allows Night’s Watch brothers, Logistics personnel, and invited guests to enter. Guests include leaders of Mountain Clans and Free Folk tribes, along with their retinues, and any southerners from the Seven Kingdoms.”

“And those who come to buy food or await work assignments…”

“…live outside. The street we just passed handles most of Crown Town’s external affairs. The tents beyond that street and the crude shelters built from the ruins of the old village are where the New Gift Folk live temporarily.” Aegor explained, “The area within Crown Town’s walls can house a thousand, but I dare not let them in. The Free Folk have no siege capabilities. With the walls, even ten thousand rioters couldn’t breach this place. But if unrest breaks out inside… three or five hundred could destroy it.”

Robb looked at Aegor with some surprise. “You don’t even trust your own New Gift Folk, yet you keep trying to convince me and others to support this resettlement?”

Robb wasn’t some pampered prince raised in a royal court. Sugarcoating reality would only backfire. Aegor chose to mix some truth in with the façade. “Trust isn’t the key. In the coming winter, we need the strength of living people. That’s the reason I’ve planned all of this. Half the buildings in Crown Town store resources. The rest, aside from housing Logistics and Night’s Watch Industry staff, have space left over. In the future, that space will serve an educational purpose.”

“Education?”

“When allowing the Free Folk to pass through the Wall, we made them surrender children from the families of each tribal leader as hostages. My goal is to control the future of the tribes through these children,” Aegor said. “And by control, I don’t mean chains and cages. I mean teaching them our language and letters, letting them eat and live alongside the children of the Grey Area Citizens and Mountain Clans, letting them grow up together with proper training. These hostages will become a bridge of understanding between us and the Free Folk. Through assimilation, the New Gift Folk will truly become part of the Gift.”

One of Aegor’s guards called out their identity, and the gates of Crown Town slowly creaked open. Yam hurried out to greet them, clearly flustered, having just learned that the Warden of the North was visiting. Aegor ended his speech just in time.

“Disarmament and strict laws are the hard way. Assimilation through time and habit is the soft way. To say we should ‘trust’ the New Gift Folk is to hand the Wall’s future to the whims of barbarians. But to use both hard and soft methods is to keep control in our hands. Relying on our own means to maintain control is far more reliable than vague trust. Don’t you agree?”

(To be continued.)

***

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