It wasn’t arrogance that kept him from appearing until the very last moment despite the severity of the incident. Maester Aemon, who had served under multiple Lord Commanders and was so old that even Denys Mallister had to admit he was a junior in comparison, had grown increasingly frail since the death of Jeor Mormont. After months of drawn-out elections, his condition had worsened to the point where he could no longer walk. Although the commotion had been going on for quite some time, he had only now arrived at the scene, carried by two men and led by Sam.

The old man’s arrival made many of the officers at Castle Black who were aware of his condition deeply uneasy.

“Maester Aemon, you’re unwell. Please rest in your room. We can handle this ourselves.”

“Thank you for your concern, but I’ve been in my room long enough. If I don’t come out to get some sun soon, I’ll go moldy,” Maester Aemon said with a weak smile, shaking his head slightly. “It’s quite noisy out here. Can someone help me understand what’s happening?”

There was no sun in the sky, only thick dark clouds and a biting wind, but no one commented on that. A steward quickly brought over a chair with a backrest, and under the concerned and confused gazes of the crowd, the blind Maester slowly sat down. After Sam relayed the events back and forth with those around them, Aemon finally understood the general situation.

“Hmm… so that’s what happened. It’s true that only the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch has the authority to decide the fate of the King-Beyond-the-Wall. But rules are dead, and men are alive… Since no Commander has been elected yet, I’ll take advantage of my age and offer a few words, even if it’s overstepping,” Maester Aemon whispered with trembling breath. His words, loudly repeated by Sam, reached everyone present: “Castle Black has been rebuilt, with walls and the means to defend against threats from the south. However, this has also reduced its usable space. At a time when we face great enemies and should be making full use of our stronghold, permanently occupying a tower and wasting manpower and space to confine… cough… accommodate Mance Rayder’s family, while many of our own brothers are crammed into small, shared rooms, is indeed a bit inappropriate. Now that someone has raised the issue, why not reconsider? Let Crown Town handle this burden. Let the Logistics Department worry about it and save our frontline brothers some effort. What do you all think?”

“We haven’t caused any trouble. How are we a burden?” Val muttered, clearly displeased. But knowing the old man before her held extraordinary prestige among the Night’s Watch, she only whispered her complaint to Jaime and didn’t dare raise her voice.

…

Truly, old ginger is the spiciest. Even though he was too frail to speak clearly, Maester Aemon managed to identify the only way to defuse the crisis in the shortest time—and even prepared a way out for everyone involved.

The three senior officers at Castle Black took a moment to think and instantly understood: as long as the “transfer of Mance Rayder’s family” was officially decided through unanimous agreement among the senior leadership, then Jaime’s actions could no longer be classified as “acting without authorization.” The group from Eastwatch-by-the-Sea would have no grounds to block the way, everyone could lower their weapons with dignity, and no one would lose face.

Ser Jaremy Rykker, who had always remained neutral and uninvolved in the conflict between the reformists and conservatives, was the first to speak.

“Maester Aemon’s reasoning is sound. In the name of the First Ranger of Castle Black, I support the transfer of Mance Rayder and his family to Crown Town. Lords Marsh and Yarwyck, what say you?”

With an elder statesman like Maester Aemon stepping forward to mediate, who wouldn’t seize the opportunity? No matter what happened later, they could always push the responsibility onto the old Maester. It wouldn’t be backing down—it would be showing respect for a revered figure.

The situation shifted instantly. Jaime Lannister, who had previously acted with arrogance and disregard for others, suddenly found his behavior legitimized and even welcomed.

Now, not only was the disciplinary charge against him rendered void, but it would also be difficult to use this matter as leverage against the reformist faction. Aegor had won completely.

How could Yohn Royce accept that?

He immediately straightened, ready to refute Maester Aemon’s proposal… but he forgot that the one currently blocking the way wasn’t him, but Cotter Pyke.

The Commander of Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, who had been left dumbfounded by Jaime’s earlier moves, finally snapped out of his daze. He looked around, trying to grasp what had happened in that brief moment: everyone at Castle Black with the authority to speak had chosen to compromise for the greater good, thereby legitimizing Jaime’s actions. If he continued to resist, he would only lead his brothers into becoming needless sacrifices to so-called “stability,” and afterward be branded a traitor.

“Didn’t you hear what Maester Aemon and the Lords said?” Cotter Pyke growled through clenched teeth. He wasn’t afraid of dying, but he couldn’t drag his men into a trap that wouldn’t even make a splash: “Put your weapons away. Let them pass.”

—

With the loud shouts of Castle Black’s Three Giants, the crowd dispersed. Thousands of pounds of meat were signed into the stores, the visitors from Crown Town finished unloading, and after a brief rest, departed with Mance Rayder and his family. From the direction of the kitchen, the rich aroma of rendered fat began to spread.

A conflict that had nearly escalated into a catastrophic clash ended without a single drop of blood. Officially, the senior officers at Castle Black had, after careful discussion, “unanimously agreed” to the transfer of the King-Beyond-the-Wall’s family, resulting in a peaceful resolution. But anyone in the Night’s Watch with a shred of sense could see clearly—this was yet another victory in the ongoing power struggle. The winner, once again, was the Chief Logistics Officer who hadn’t even appeared.

Aegor had demonstrated the power he commanded through his arrangements, proving to all that even before becoming Lord Commander, he could already make the Night’s Watch… operate, to some extent, according to his will.

Of course, the matter didn’t end there. Though publicly forced to compromise, the senior officers of Castle Black, their authority greatly undermined, were seething in private. For the sake of appearances, they had already dispatched men to record a detailed account of what had happened. Ravens were flying toward Nightfort, bearing complaints meant for Robb Stark. Cotter Pyke and Yohn Royce, who had lost this round and were both angry and helpless, retreated to their towers to plot their next move.

…

Yohn Royce slammed an object onto the table in fury.

“That brat is out of control. If he becomes Lord Commander, the Night’s Watch will be finished!”

“Don’t act like you’re some lifelong brother of the Watch. You didn’t put on the black voluntarily,” Cotter Pyke said as he splashed cold water on his face. His earlier embarrassment had faded somewhat, though the swelling on his face remained. “Don’t get any more ideas. Tell everyone to pack. We’re returning to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea tomorrow.”

“What, just slink home like old Mallister?” Yohn was still fuming. “Everyone will think we’re admitting defeat.”

“And what power do we have to avoid admitting it? You got any other way to deal with him—short of killing him? Look at that kid. He’s so paranoid, he wants a pack of bodyguards just to take a piss. Who’s going to get a clean shot?”

Cotter Pyke had never suffered such a defeat before. Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, bordering the Bay of Seals, often had to deal with Wildlings crossing by raft and even occasional skirmishes with overseas visitors arriving by ship. Its defenders were hardened veterans, and Pyke himself commanded many skilled warriors. Among them were several who, with a little more experience, could challenge even a Lord Commander. Cotter had never believed himself invincible, but to be trounced so thoroughly, completely helpless?

This was the first time in his life. Had he not lived it himself, he would never have believed such a man even existed.

He’d always known that scheming wasn’t his strength. But this defeat had shattered even his confidence in combat, his one true advantage.

Cotter had never pretended to be a clever man, but as the Commander of Eastwatch-by-the-Sea for many years, he was no fool. Today’s utter loss had finally opened his eyes. He didn’t have a son who’d died at Aegor’s hand—what did he stand to gain from letting Yohn lead him into conflict with that man at all costs? Thankfully, Maester Aemon had stepped in today. If things continued down this road, he’d end up trapped for certain.

Here, far from home, he had no leverage and no reason to stay.

“Then—are we just supposed to take this lying down?”

Accept it? If it meant recognizing that they couldn’t beat him, sure. But admit defeat and let Aegor become Lord Commander? Never.

“I haven’t forgotten how that brat humiliated me in public. I’ll never bow to him in this lifetime. Once we return to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, I’ll thoroughly investigate who’s supporting him in the vote. Whether it’s skewing the vote in our region, delaying his victory, or sabotaging him after he takes command—it’s all better than staying here at Castle Black, losing both face and dignity. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Castle Black lies only a few dozen miles from Nightfort. The raven arrived swiftly—well before the inspection group led by the Chief Logistics Officer could travel there on horseback.

But the complaint sent by Castle Black’s senior officers never reached Robb Stark. Instead, it was delivered into the hands of the very man they were complaining about—Aegor West. The person in charge of messenger ravens at Nightfort, and indeed all other strongholds along the Wall besides the three primary castles, had been appointed by Aegor, who held sole authority over their activation.

They were not only nominally under his command, but were paid by him as well. In every sense, they were his people.

Aegor quickly scanned the report, a full page of formal complaint penned at the urging of Castle Black’s Three Giants. He gave a cold laugh, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it aside.

The arrangement to transfer the King-Beyond-the-Wall’s family had originally been a precaution. But now, seeing how quickly and fiercely Yohn Royce and Cotter Pyke had reacted… perhaps Val, that Wildling girl, had been right.

His caution today had helped him sidestep another trap. But there was still much left to do. He had to finish dealing with current matters… before he could settle things with his dear brothers at Castle Black. If he couldn’t appease the North’s inspection group, all his maneuvering and efforts would be meaningless.

Aegor tidied his clothes, steadied his expression, and turned to walk toward the center of Nightfort’s courtyard. Behind him, the crumpled parchment slowly turned to ash in the charcoal fire of the forge.

(To be continued.)

***

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