The moment Aegor saw Bran from afar, he realized that his earlier concerns had been entirely self-inflicted.

The two high-ranking priests and the Greenseer lived in the same dormitory block within Hogwarts Town Inner Keep, just a stone’s throw from Aegor’s office and residence. Melisandre and Moqorro were strong and able-bodied, while Bran was paralyzed and had to be pushed in a wheelchair. Yet despite that limitation, the Greenseer had still managed to appear downstairs at the office building within the short ten minutes Aegor had spent wandering around the stables.

After a brief mental calculation, Aegor concluded that Bran must have sensed R’hllor’s presence at the same time as the two Red Priests, and had immediately set off toward the source of the miracle, possibly even earlier.

This seemingly insignificant detail, when examined closely, revealed something thought-provoking.

Ever since returning from Beyond the Wall and successfully being promoted from a mere boy to the Greenseer, everyone, including Aegor himself, had only ever gone to visit Bran. There had never been an occasion where Bran had come to them. For a prophet with limited mobility and magical abilities, a bit of aloofness was understandable and even acceptable. But now, in contrast to his usual behavior, he had made the effort to come in person. Compared to the past, this was highly unusual.

This change, from waiting passively to actively seeking out, inherently suggested a subconscious display of submission. That it occurred at this specific moment left only one possibility. He had been frightened by R’hllor’s manifestation and had come specifically to express goodwill and clarify that he meant no harm.

Once again, through the reactions of others, Aegor gained a deeper understanding of the power behind the one above him.

The might of the Red God was truly terrifying. Overwhelming to a ridiculous degree.

I really was foolish, Aegor thought to himself. An existence that could terrify the cold god into retreat just by appearing on the battlefield, without even lifting a finger, and I was actually worried just now whether She could intimidate a mere Greenseer?

Pushing the self-mockery aside, he took a deep breath, adjusted his cloak to ensure it concealed the golden scale on his chest, and walked toward the waiting prophet seated in the cold wind.

“My Lord.”

“Lord Commander.”

The strong female Grey Citizen pushing the wheelchair and Bran, dressed in black, greeted him in turn. Though he remained seated due to his paralysis, the second son of House Stark looked rosy-cheeked and full of energy, showing no signs of being weakened by the supposed exhaustion from the Long Night.

Aegor had previously suspected that Bran was faking illness to keep a low profile. Now it seemed that was indeed the case. If R’hllor had not appeared and stirred the pot, who knew what secret plots he would still be weaving?

Bran appeared entirely unaware of the displeasure in his superior’s eyes. After his greeting, he spoke directly.

“I have important information to report to you, my Lord. May I request a private audience?”

Seeing the boy’s serious expression, Aegor also set aside his smile. After a moment’s thought, he nodded.

“Alright. Not out here. Let’s talk inside.”

Since moving the wheelchair up and down the stairs would be inconvenient, Aegor chose to receive the Greenseer in the large meeting room on the ground floor. After the female Grey Citizen pushed Bran inside, she discreetly withdrew. Aegor also ordered the guards to wait outside, but he specifically asked Melisandre to remain. Even though his instincts told him the Greenseer would not dare to harm someone chosen by R’hllor, Aegor was not inclined to rely on instinct alone. After all, he had no way of knowing whether the scale gifted by R’hllor was a powerful divine artifact or a nourishing treasure capable of driving the lesser supernaturals of this world into madness.

The wind howled outside the walls, but within the room only three people breathed. Aegor approached Bran with a playful look and watched him silently for a few seconds. Bran shifted slightly in his chair, straightened his back, and with impeccable posture, gave a small, formal bow.

“In the name of the Greenseer, I greet the chosen of the Lord of Light. May all go smoothly for you.”

It was a plain, almost dry, greeting, yet it made both Aegor and Melisandre pause.

What pleased Aegor was that this boy, under the divine might or perhaps oppressive pressure of R’hllor, had finally stopped wearing the mask of the young Stark and begun to speak as his true self. What unsettled him was the way Bran had casually referred to R’hllor as “the Fire God.”

Had he overheard something when Aegor spoke to the two Red Priests earlier, or…

Before he could finish that thought, Aegor realized his logic was flawed. According to the Greenseer’s method of survival, shedding one vessel for another every few decades or centuries and tricking a new host into inheriting memory and knowledge, his true age or the age of his memories far surpassed any living Red Priest. Three hundred years would be a mere blink for him. Thousands would not be an exaggeration.

From that standpoint, the answer became obvious. This ancient being had not only seen R’hllor in the past, but had likely interacted with Her, which was why he knew She was a Lady.

That sounded bad, but was actually good news.

While the Greenseer’s familiarity with R’hllor meant that Aegor could not bluff him using shallow boasts of having spoken with the goddess in a dream, it also guaranteed that he would not need to bluff at all. The Greenseer, who had witnessed the apocalypse and possibly even participated in the War for the Dawn, understood R’hllor’s power and ruthlessness as well as he did the cold god’s. As long as the goddess’s deterrence remained intact, he would never dare to act rashly.

Having sorted it all out within seconds, Aegor felt confidence rise in his chest. He pulled out a chair and sat down calmly, not surprised in the least.

“May all go smoothly for you as well, Greenseer. Provided your smooth path does not run counter to mine.” He gave a subtle jab, indifferent to whether the other understood. “Let us get to the point. What is this important information?”

“Would you prefer the good news or the bad news first?”

Aegor disliked playing games. His face darkened. Noting this, Bran shrugged and dropped the act.

“The good news is that the Queen’s black dragon is recovering well from its injuries and is no longer in danger. While it will take more time for a full recovery, its ability to fly should return soon.”

He continued without pause.

“The bad news is that the small detachment of Unsullied who passed by Crown Town a few days ago has already arrived at Last Hearth. Two of your old acquaintances among them, after conferring with the Queen, have persuaded her to temporarily set aside the Northern campaign and find a way to return to King’s Landing as soon as possible to rejoin the battle for the Iron Throne. You will receive the Queen’s farewell letter within a day or two. You may wish to begin preparing your response.”

Those two bastards. They really will not stop stirring up trouble.

Aegor frowned, his expression turning darker. These were clearly both bad pieces of news. The first simply did not look as bad on the surface.

As long as Drogon had remained grounded by his injuries, Daenerys would never have agreed to abandon one of her children. This so-called plan to return South as soon as possible was clearly based on waiting for Drogon to fly again. Even if he could not carry a rider yet, as long as he could take to the skies, the Queen could travel south by land or sea with the Unsullied, while the two dragons followed lightly from above. A perfectly viable plan.

However, despite his irritation, this outcome was already within Aegor’s calculations.

Had he not deliberately pushed the timeline for the actual Southward Campaign forward by a week to counter potential disruptions from the eunuch and Littlefinger? The Queen’s agreement to return South first was not a result of persuasive words from Varys or Petyr, but because he, the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, had already used up all her patience while offering empty promises.

This intelligence was important, but ultimately meaningless. Because by the time the Queen finished her letter, packed her bags, and prepared to depart, he would already be at the walls of Last Hearth with the Gift’s army, fulfilling the promise he had made. By then, she would have no reason to leave him behind and return South alone.

“Very well. Understood.” Aegor collected his thoughts and nodded with a serious look. “Besides this good and bad news, is there anything else worth mentioning?”

“Information is born every second, my Lord. If there is a specific subject you wish to know about, I can look into it for you.” Bran tilted his head slightly, looking straight at him. “No matter what task the Lord of Light has given you, I am willing to serve Her chosen one. I now officially offer my services to accompany you on your upcoming Southward Campaign. I assure you, with the help of the green sight, whether it is Her mission or your own ambitions, both can be fulfilled with double the efficiency. Chosen one, what are your thoughts?”

A campaign that is about to begin? Was that not supposed to happen only after leaving Beyond the Wall and reclaiming the Haunted Forest?

Melisandre narrowed her eyes, realizing something, and turned her gaze toward Aegor.

So that was the true purpose. The good and bad news earlier were merely the lead-in, a token of allegiance.

Aegor also narrowed his eyes, suddenly grasping the Greenseer’s intentions. This man had indeed taken actions earlier that interfered with his plan concerning Jon’s parentage. Now, having realized that Aegor was protected by R’hllor, rather than retreating or offering explanations, he had chosen the same clever tactic as the commanders at Eastwatch. If you cannot defeat them, join them. He had pledged loyalty directly, skipping negotiations and removing all risk of confrontation in one stroke.

Aegor raised his eyes to meet the Red Priestess’s gaze. Although he felt a natural sense of wariness, his heart pounded with excitement.

A supernatural being who could see all things past and present, anywhere a weirwood tree existed.

If such an entity were truly willing to offer full support, it would be as if a cheat had been activated. He would be unstoppable. Compared to the pile of seemingly useful, but not decisive, passive abilities granted by the half-dragon scale on his chest, this was infinitely more practical.

(To be continued.)

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep