The miraculous success of the two Dragonsteel Bombs meant that the Battle of Crown Town was remarkably short. There were still sufficient reserves of Wildfire, Dragonglass, and conventional explosives for one or two more moderately intense engagements. The only concerns now were the number of Lightbringers and the soldiers available for deployment.

It was a pipe dream to recover the Dragonsteel fragments scattered across the snow or the shattered remnants of the wights, but the Lightbringers that remained intact could be retrieved. Their shafts were wrapped in gold, and their shape was distinctly different from regular arrows. Despite the practical difficulties caused by fires and chaos, after a rough sweep, the soldiers managed to recover nineteen arrows. Adding the six Valyrian steel ones used as placeholders, and the dozen or so still stored in the remaining strongholds along the Wall, the Night’s Watch ultimately had more than thirty weapons that could still be used against the White Walkers.

In a defensive battle, lightly wounded men, half-grown boys, robust women, and even Giants with mobility issues could contribute. But for an offensive campaign, only fully healthy, physically strong, militarily trained adults capable of understanding tactical commands were suitable. Even after slightly loosening the standards during the actual review, only a little over three thousand people in Crown Town met the criteria. Considering the need to defend the city from counterattack and maintain basic order and safety, a portion of dependable people had to be held back. That left no more than three thousand available.

Fortunately, the strongholds that had not yet fallen along the Wall could muster another two thousand. In total, Aegor had around five thousand men available for the southward pursuit.

…

Logically, the safest plan would be to wait for the Wall’s garrisons to regroup, for all units to converge, and for the Queen to return to the Gift on her dragon before launching another campaign. But the remaining wights and White Walkers would not wait. Daenerys’s three dragons could not carry thousands of soldiers. Every moment of delay allowed the enemy to move farther from Crown Town and closer to the more densely populated heartlands of the North. The hope of stopping the White Walkers before they slaughtered civilians and replenished their ranks would grow more remote. The main force from Crown Town, with all available war materials, had to set out immediately. The smaller units from the Wall’s strongholds could follow lightly and regroup later. The Queen, who could fly, would link up with them along the way. Only by using time to the fullest could they hope to turn the situation around and achieve victory.

After mobilizing all the remaining livestock in Crown Town to carry supplies and sending ravens to the strongholds along the Wall to immediately dispatch elite soldiers with the remaining Dragonsteel Arrows, lightly equipped and heading south along the Kingsroad, Aegor gathered the chosen force for the pursuit outside the East Gate and began organizing the march.

—

What is the downside of accepting the mantle of a “hero” or “prophet”?

Putting aside the scattered petty troubles, there is perhaps only one undisputed truth: when a real disaster strikes, the hero has no choice but to grit his teeth and step forward, whether he is capable or not.

As Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch and Lord of the Gift, Aegor could send people to patrol the North, clear ice in the Bay of Seals, shiver in the Great Gorge, or even help the Northmen build ships in Ice Bay. With his enormous prestige, any command he gave or plan he devised could be carried out swiftly and effectively.

But when it came to the final act — defending Crown Town and pursuing the retreating White Walkers — he could not let someone else take his place.

This wasn’t about minor details. It was a matter of principle, the difference between saying “you go” and “I go.”

Had he stayed behind in the Inner Keep during last night’s defense of Crown Town, commanding from a distance, the defenders — with their uneven discipline and divided hearts — would never have fought with such extraordinary valor. If he now handed over the pursuit to his generals instead of leading it himself, would those soldiers really be willing to go die? Even if they won, the credit would not be his. When people began to ask, “You, the Prophet, the legendary hero — what exactly did you do?”, would he answer with his daily administrative duties or his supply coordination, both of which were already his responsibility?

When you step into the light, you must pay the price.

—

Fully armed, Aegor sighed inwardly, but before the three thousand Crown Town “elites” already assembled outside the gate, he quickly composed himself and put on a stern, commanding expression, exuding the determination to sacrifice himself at any moment.

This time they were not passively defending, but actively attacking. It was not part of the original plan, so a pre-battle speech was absolutely necessary.

“Brave warriors of the Gift!” Aegor shouted, projecting his voice across the snowy plain. “Last night, together we fought and won a battle unlike anything in human history. We repelled an enemy ten times our number and dealt them casualties that exceeded the entire population of the Gift. We struck a mighty blow against those damned creatures.”

“But today, I must make a difficult but necessary decision. After only a few hours of rest, I must lead you brave warriors to fight again — to strike and pursue the remaining enemies we drove off last night.”

As murmurs of surprise rippled through the ranks, Aegor raised his voice once more.

“But I want to make something clear. This dangerous southward campaign is not about saving or protecting anyone else. It is for us.”

Speak to men as men and to ghosts as ghosts. Preaching the nobility of “defending the people of Westeros” to these rugged men — a mix of Mountain Clans and Free Folk — would be a waste of effort. The ranks might break before the march even began. Aegor chose instead to speak in terms of direct gain and survival.

“Like all of you, I long to sleep soundly and safely inside the walls of Crown Town, hoping that when I wake, I’ll hear that the White Walkers are all dead. But that is not going to happen.” His tone became sorrowful. “The people in the South simply have no idea what kind of enemy they are about to face. They are completely unprepared — mentally, physically, and tactically. Much as I wish it weren’t true, the fact is, only we on this continent, perhaps in the entire world, can defeat these abominations.”

The crowd stirred. His words were honest, even flattering in a subtle way, and they stoked the soldiers’ pride. Many beat their chests and cheered, drowning out the doubts and fears.

“Many of you have lived in the New Gift for years and have fought these monsters before. No one understands them better than you. And unless they are utterly destroyed, they will only grow in number. Even if one is left alive… If we choose temporary comfort and let them march south, they will slaughter thousands, maybe tens of thousands, and those will all become new enemies. It doesn’t matter how weak or foolish they were in life. As wights, they are all equally deadly. If we don’t want to wake up in a few months buried under hundreds of thousands, even millions of corpses, we must bite down and finish this now.”

“This battle is not for the glory of me, the Lord Commander, nor for any great lord or king of the South. It is for ourselves, for our wives and children, to ensure our descendants still have the right to breathe and feel the sun on their faces.”

Aegor raised his sword high, pointing it at the sky. “The enemy wants to freeze our land, slaughter our kin, and enslave our bodies. We will annihilate them. Not one will be left!”

“Not one left!”

“Not one left!”

Officers from the Logistics Department, who had blended into the ranks, led the chant. Soon, the rest of the soldiers, whether they truly felt it or not, raised their weapons and joined in. Outside Crown Town, a ragged but spirited roar echoed across the snow.

The uproar lasted ten seconds. Then twenty. Aegor began to raise his arm to call for silence so he could officially give the order to march. But the crowd refused to quiet. Even after a minute, the noise only grew louder. For a moment, Aegor felt awkward and confused. It was natural for morale to be high after such a victory, but this level of excitement, especially before such a dangerous campaign, made his speech feel somehow off.

A few seconds later, a guard whispered something in his ear. Aegor turned and understood the reason.

In the southern sky behind him, three black dots had appeared against the backdrop of thick gray clouds. In just the time it took for everyone to shout in unison, they had drawn close enough that their forms could be seen clearly. The sudden surge of enthusiasm had not been for his “brilliant” speech, which he hadn’t even prepared, but for the Queen — or rather, the three dragons — who had arrived at this most crucial moment.

A gift from the gods.

(To be continued.)

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep