“We’ve all been fooled by that fellow!” Yohn Royce gathered the Lords of the Vale who had been exiled to the Wall with him and said to them, his face full of shock and fury. “He announced he wouldn’t participate in the election and left Castle Black. Everyone thought he saw the situation clearly and chose to be a wise man who knew when to yield. But we were all wrong. He hasn’t given up at all. Instead, while all our attention was focused on the election, he ran off to the North to stir up trouble and seek favor from Stark!”

“Calm down, old man. Robb Stark only said he was going to inspect the North. That doesn’t necessarily mean he’s supporting Aegor’s Gift resettlement plan… In fact, after seeing those Wildlings, he might even oppose it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that reasoning, but do you think those idle soldiers at the Wall have such judgment? All they’ll see is that Aegor went south, and now the current head of the North has followed him back to Castle Black! I was acquainted with Robb’s father, Eddard Stark. The Stark family has been known for honesty and simplicity for the past two generations. To put it bluntly, they’re easily deceived! When faced with a cunning and unscrupulous scoundrel like Aegor, I fear they’ll help him count the coins even after he sells them.”

Another Lord of the Vale nodded solemnly. “Lord Yohn is right. The North has always been the firmest backing for the Night’s Watch. While the Night’s Watch is nominally independent, in practice, it acts at the beck and call of the North. Even if Robb Stark comes to Castle Black this time and says nothing, does nothing, many of those weak-willed and imaginative men will start making assumptions and might even vote for Jarman Buckwell because he ‘returned with Aegor’—”

“No, vote for Aegor,” Yohn Royce interjected. “If I’m not mistaken, Buckwell is just that boy’s shadow. When he returns to Castle Black from this trip, he will certainly declare his candidacy for Lord Commander. Buckwell will seize the opportunity to withdraw from the race, and his original votes will shift directly to that fellow. Add to that some Night’s Watch brothers changing their minds at Castle Black—”

“But he already publicly announced he wouldn’t join the election. Wouldn’t that be going back on his word?”

“There’s no law that forbids someone from entering the race midway. In fact, any sworn brother of the Night’s Watch can declare their candidacy at any time before the new Commander is elected.” Yohn Royce said in frustration. “And I’ll wager he won’t even announce it himself. He’ll have his lackeys stage some revolting little drama—’the other brothers nominated him voluntarily,’ or ‘he had no choice but to accept due to overwhelming support’!”

…

“I have to admit, what he’s doing is very feasible.” The room fell into brief silence until someone spoke again. “And it’s our fault for wasting two whole months without electing a new Commander. Many of the brothers at Castle Black are already exhausted by the daily canvassing and politicking. At this point, if someone makes a move, those who don’t care who wins might vote for him just for the novelty!”

“Even if all the men at Castle Black vote for him, he still won’t reach two-thirds. Commanders Cotter and Denys control over four hundred votes.”

“You fool. Don’t you see it yet? That fellow’s goal is for the Night’s Watch to remain deadlocked. He’s the Chief Logistics Officer, and only the Lord Commander can order him to halt the Gift resettlement plan. As long as he firmly holds the swing votes that might have gone to Cotter or Denys, keeping those two stubborn old men from winning, he can keep pushing his plan. He’ll remain the damned King of the Wildlings!”

At last, someone pointed out the only solution. “Cotter Pyke and Ser Denys Mallister… someone must convince one of them to support the other. Let them combine their votes and end the election quickly to stop that damned Gift resettlement plan.”

“Cotter Pyke and Ser Denys detest each other immensely.” Ser Tampton shook his head regretfully. “They’d sooner toss their votes into the sea than give them to each other.”

“Indeed. If you really had the ability to convince them to support one another, you might as well save your effort and just try to persuade Aegor to abandon his Gift resettlement plan.” Another elderly noble snorted. “That might even be the simpler task.”

“You old fools,” Yohn muttered under his breath, then quickly realized: there was no use arguing with these people any further.

If he didn’t want to see that despicable man—who had killed his son, broken neutrality, and advised King Robert to storm the Bloody Gate, leading to his current disgrace—get his way, he had to act fast and secure a resolution to the election before Aegor returned.

Yohn Royce moved at once.

—

The Commander of Eastwatch-by-the-Sea was lean, strong, and tough—but far from handsome. His small eyes were set too close together, his nose had been broken, and his hairline jutted out in the middle of his forehead like a spearpoint. Measles had ruined his face, and the scruffy beard he’d grown to hide it was patchy and tangled.

When Yohn found him again, Cotter was gambling with three subordinates in the Shield Hall. Seeing the former leader of the League of the Righteous approach, he didn’t even look up.

“Trying to convince me to vote for someone else again?”

“Yes, but this time it’s different from last time—”

“It’s no different. My answer is still the same: impossible.” Cotter Pyke snorted. “I know you’re a noble, and I’m a bastard by birth. Even though we’ve worked together at Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, you still prefer Mallister, who shares your noble blood. But—ugh, no point in wasting words. Go back and tell him this isn’t a curse: he’s too old. If we elect him, we’ll probably have to hold another election in less than a year.”

“No, Ser—”

“Did you ask him what he plans to do if he becomes Commander? Write letters to the wights? He’s a good knight, certainly, but not a warrior. And he’s far too old—I don’t care who he unhorsed in some damn tourney fifty years ago. Even blind old men know it was Colin the Disfigured who held the defense of Shadow Tower, not him. We’re now facing wights and a host of Wildlings who have already crossed the Wall. We need a strong, battle-proven leader more than ever!” Pyke slammed the table angrily. “Let me tell you something, Lord Bronze Yohn, I don’t give a damn about this bloody position. I grew up on the sea, and Eastwatch is the place I belong—but if the Night’s Watch falls into the hands of that preening hawk from Shadow Tower, the Wall is finished!”

“Ser, you’ve said these words more than once.” Yohn raised his voice, interrupting Cotter Pyke’s rant. “I understand your stance clearly. You will never vote for Ser Denys Mallister. But what about others? Would you consider supporting someone else?”

“Who, Bowen Marsh? That spoon-counting fool? Don’t even mention Othell Yarwyck—he’s used to following orders. Whoever’s in charge, he does what he’s told. Now that Jeor Mormont is dead, he just listens to Bowen Marsh again—”

“Me,” Yohn said firmly. “What if I ran? Would you consider supporting me?”

“You?” Cotter Pyke paused, surprised. He stared at Yohn for a long moment before shaking his head. “No, no, no. You haven’t served long enough. You’ve only been in the Night’s Watch for a year. Even your opponent Aegor West has been here longer than you.”

“Even if I joined yesterday, I am still eligible to run.” Yohn shot back sharply. “When Mormont was elected Commander, he hadn’t worn the black for many years, had he? He was elected because of his noble status as the former Lord of Bear Island, his experience governing and commanding troops, and his Mormont bloodline—which, like mine, is respected by the Northern lords. And I have all those same qualities.”

Royce, like the Starks, had First Men blood. He was also the former Lord of Runestone, nicknamed Bronze Yohn. His ability and experience were unquestionable, and his birth and bloodline were noble and famous… Cotter Pyke frowned, unable to find a solid counterargument. After a long pause, he finally asked, “Commander Mormont joined the Watch voluntarily. But you—you were forced to wear black after a failed rebellion.”

“King Robert called it a rebellion, but… I swear by the old gods and the new, we only wanted to drive out Lysa Tully, who had murdered our liege lord, from the Vale. Everyone in the Seven Kingdoms knows the truth of it.”

“Let’s not argue about rebellion or not. You are, indeed, eligible.” Cotter waved a hand, signaling his subordinates to pack up the dice and coins and leave. “But what will you offer to earn the two hundred votes I hold?”

“Because if things continue as they are, you won’t win the election. But I can offer a better option—joint rule.” Yohn Royce looked up and laid out his idea. “You’re skilled in naval matters and combat. Ser Mallister is adept at diplomacy and dealing with nobles. Both these skills are essential to the Night’s Watch. Let me serve as the honorary Lord Commander. You’ll still manage Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. Ser Mallister will retain command of Shadow Tower. For major decisions, the three of us will deliberate and decide together. What do you say?”

“Tch—” Cotter chuckled softly but didn’t answer immediately.

“Ser Mallister has already said that if you agree to this plan, he’ll vote for me as well. If we can win another two hundred votes from Castle Black, it’s done.” Yohn gritted his teeth and told a colossal lie. “Aegor West left Winterfell days ago. He could be back at Castle Black within the next couple of days. I hope for your reply soon.”

…

The Commander of Shadow Tower was born beneath the bell tower of Seagard, a true Mallister. The collar and cuffs of his black velvet coat were lined with mink, and his cloak was fastened with the claw of a silver eagle. His beard was white as snow, most of his hair was gone, and deep wrinkles creased his face. But he still moved with agility, and his blue-grey eyes had not dulled with age. His noble bearing remained undiminished.

“Lord Yohn.” When Yohn entered the Spear Tower where the Shadow Tower delegation was staying, the old noble greeted him first. “House Royce and House Mallister have been allies for generations. Come to think of it, we’ve known each other for decades… I sincerely hope you’re not here to ask me to vote for Cotter Pyke. No offense, but it’s he who should withdraw. I hold more votes, and I’m more suitable.”

“You are indeed more suitable,” Yohn nodded, determined to state his purpose quickly and avoid the long-winded back-and-forth he’d endured with Pyke. “But you and Cotter Pyke have opposed each other for too long. He fears that if you become Commander, you’ll strip him of his post at Eastwatch-by-the-Sea.”

“He said that?” Denys looked at Yohn in surprise. “You and I both know that an honorable man would never stoop to using office for personal revenge. Tell him if I win, he’ll keep his current command.”

“I, of course, trust your honor, Ser Mallister.” Yohn spread his hands. “Cotter Pyke didn’t say that outright. I could just tell. He’s Ironborn by birth, raised on deck among reavers and treachery… violence and suspicion are in his blood. Whether you believe it or not, he won’t trust your promise.”

“A shame,” said Ser Mallister flatly. “Cotter Pyke is a worthy warrior, but you and I both come from noble houses and understand this: some matters can’t be resolved with swords alone. The Lord Commander must be more than a general. He must be a leader, a diplomat, capable of dealing with nobles and handling all manner of problems. He must command respect and carry weight.”

The old knight leaned back in his chair. “I don’t seek power. In the last election, when Lord Jeor Mormont was put forward, I gladly stood aside. Before that, I stepped aside for Lord Qorgyle—as long as the Watch is in capable hands, I’m content. But I simply cannot bring myself to support Pyke of Eastwatch.”

“I understand and respect your concerns, Ser Mallister,” Yohn Royce nodded. “But if the commanders of Shadow Tower and Eastwatch continue to hoard their votes, we’ll be here next year with no Lord Commander. And in that time, our Chief Logistics Officer will continue pushing his Gift resettlement plan, until those Wildlings destroy the Night’s Watch.”

“If we can’t elect one, we’ll keep voting until I die or Pyke changes his mind—there’s no precedent otherwise.” Ser Mallister shrugged. “As for Aegor and his Wildlings, they won’t last. They don’t have enough food.”

“Not enough food,” Yohn nodded. “But once Aegor runs out of supplies, do you think he’ll send them away quietly? Don’t forget, Castle Black has cellars full of winter provisions. If he incites that mob to attack Castle Black, the Night’s Watch won’t be able to hold with only one wall and no cover from the Wall itself. They’ll be slaughtered.”

Mallister frowned and thought for a few seconds, then nodded. “That is indeed a danger. What do you propose?”

“I offer this—joint rule by three.” Yohn said earnestly. “Let me, who has no personal feud with either of you, serve as honorary Commander. I’ll wield the authority to halt the Gift resettlement plan. The two of you retain command of your towers. All major decisions of the Night’s Watch will be made together. What do you think?”

After a pause, he steeled himself and added, “Cotter Pyke has already said that if you agree to vote for me, he will too.”

(To be continued.)

***

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