“Ah? Lord Bolton… discussed overthrowing House Stark with you?”

Seeing the girl’s small mouth open in a surprised O-shape, Aegor nodded. Just as he was about to continue, he suddenly began to doubt himself.

He and Myrcella hadn’t known each other for very long, but in just this short year or two, the little princess had managed to build the image of a clever, kind, strong, and brave young woman in his heart through her actions. Coupled with her taking the risk this time to deliver such crucial news… all sorts of factors led Aegor to subconsciously treat her as a reliable and trustworthy friend. But when he looked past the illusion, she was still just a fourteen or fifteen-year-old girl. Was she truly reliable enough for matters of such weight?

Before learning the crucial intelligence about Bolton, the Gift Army’s strategy to draw out reinforcements through siege was faltering due to Robb’s correct command of the Northern army. Aegor was weighing a difficult choice between bombarding Winterfell with cannons or shifting the offensive to Cerwyn. Either way, the core purpose was the same: to minimize casualties among the Stark family as much as possible.

This was not just a matter of personal emotion. Objectively, it was a necessity. Aegor had no intention of making a quick fortune in Westeros and then fleeing. He had to help establish Daenerys’s rule and, in the process, carve out power, status, and inheritance for himself. People at the bottom of society, with nothing to their names, often face the same dilemma: it is hard to balance reputation and gain. When he was just a common Night’s Watch brother, reputation might not have been as useful as a golden dragon. But that changes quickly once status rises. The higher one climbs, the more tightly fame and fortune are bound. Now, as ruler of the Gift and a key supporter of the Queen, he could no longer act on impulse. He had to cherish his reputation, just like Denys Mallister, the former Commander of the Shadow Tower—or even more so.

Now, with Bolton possibly having defected to the Queen and escorting her South, if he wanted both to protect the Starks and not disappoint Daenerys, Aegor had only one path left: occupy Winterfell before the Queen’s arrival, and force the head or representative of House Stark—be it Robb or another—to proactively swear fealty.

At all costs, by any means necessary.

Only by doing this could he fulfill his promise to “await Her Grace at Winterfell” and also foil Bolton’s plan to “destroy House Stark in one stroke,” achieving maximum political and personal gain under conditions where the two were not in conflict.

And to achieve this goal, the most rational approach would be to say nothing to Myrcella. Pretend on the surface to accept her suggestion and retreat immediately, while in truth launching a surprise attack within the next two days… preferably as soon as possible.

Not intimidation, but seizing the castle in a single strike.

…

Many calculations flashed through his mind, but in the real world, only a few seconds had passed. After this brief hesitation, Aegor found himself in an awkward position. It seemed there was no way to backtrack. Under the girl’s intense gaze, if he abruptly stopped speaking, it would seem as if he had something to hide or was spinning lies.

Should he casually change the subject and end the conversation, or treat her as an equal, as someone capable of participating in schemes… and tell her the truth? As a core resident of Winterfell, if Myrcella didn’t believe him and returned to inform the garrison of a coming surprise attack, the consequences would be catastrophic. But if she was willing to assist him from within, this battle might still be won, with even less bloodshed.

After staring at Myrcella for a moment with his mouth half open, Aegor gritted his teeth and decided to go with the flow. To hell with it. This wouldn’t cost him his life. What harm was there in taking a risk?

“That’s right. The recent rumors in the Gift about Southerners planning to punish the Night’s Watch and replace me as Lord Commander didn’t appear from nowhere. Lord Bolton sent someone to deliver the message. I intentionally leaked it to make the Gift alert and ready for war.”

Aegor carefully chose his words to avoid being seen through by the clever girl, all while secretly praying. He hoped that this little princess, shaped by hardship in this timeline, still retained the decisiveness and courage he remembered.

“I canceled my original campaign and suddenly marched south to Winterfell only after receiving that message. Lord Bolton’s offer at the time was simple: he would secretly support my Southern advance to help me defeat the Northern army, and in return, once it was done, I was to ensure House Stark vanished from this world and support him as Warden of the North.”

“You didn’t agree,” Myrcella said, her tone full of certainty.

“Of course not. House Stark is my friend. Unless absolutely necessary, I would never harm them,” Aegor declared solemnly. “But because I see them as friends, I can’t tolerate betrayal either. That’s why, after rejecting Lord Bolton’s terms, I still came here with my army to demand an explanation. But I never expected that old bastard to make contact with the Queen herself and devise such a ruthless scheme that could bring total ruin to the Starks.”

His words were full of conviction, but Myrcella blinked several times, her expression showing clear doubt.

Heh. Don’t underestimate this girl. She’s even younger than Arya, but not easily fooled, Aegor thought to himself.

He couldn’t blame her for being suspicious. In fact, skepticism was the only sensible reaction. Even if he stood in her shoes, Aegor would have assumed it was all a lie.

The real issue was this: if not for his knowledge from another world, no one could see any trace of disloyalty or ambition in the Old Flayer. That was Roose Bolton’s ruthlessness and cunning. Like a venomous snake, he only struck when his prey exposed a weakness. Aegor even suspected that if the Starks could remain calm and error-free, never exposing a strategic flaw, Roose might truly live out his life as a loyal bannerman.

So Aegor was now in a difficult position. He wanted to prove something that was clearly true but had no real evidence. Unless the prisoners from Dreadfort in Crowntown were willing to testify against their lord, he had nothing—nothing but his own memory—to support the claim that Bolton was plotting rebellion.

“The Dragon-killing ballista was developed by craftsmen in the Night’s Watch Logistics Department. How could such a massive, complex weapon be produced in large numbers and operators trained in such a short time? Stannis had dozens of these in King’s Landing and didn’t manage to scratch a single dragon. How could that same weapon, after arriving in the North, suddenly wipe out the Queen and two dragons under the Unsullied’s protection? Does that sound reasonable to you?” Aegor guided her patiently. Since he had no solid proof, he could only steer the conversation and bolster his credibility with logic and suggestion. “News of my siege on Winterfell and negotiations with Stark must have spread through ravens sent by the Starks to their bannermen. Myrcella, if you were an ambitious man with ill intent, waiting for the right moment to rise up against your liege, what would you fear the most?”

Being addressed by her real name, something she hadn’t heard in a long time, made Myrcella’s heart skip a beat. Afraid someone outside might overhear, she nearly opened her mouth to ask him to stop. But understanding the timing was wrong, she held it back and forced herself to follow Aegor’s line of thought.

When she lived in the Red Keep, she loved reading books and listening to the Maesters tell stories. But unlike most princesses, she disliked childish tales of knights, princes, or fair maidens. Instead, she preferred stories about political power and strategy—topics usually reserved for boys. With the knowledge she had accumulated since childhood, combined with Aegor’s explanation, she quickly reached the right conclusion.

“What I would fear most is that House Stark and you, Lord Aegor, would complete negotiations and reach an agreement. Then, this upheaval, which was originally my best chance to rise, would end with Stark changing allegiance and smoothly keeping their lands and titles,” she said. Her voice grew more confident as she spoke. “So, what you’re saying is that Lord Bolton sent a letter claiming he had already eliminated the Queen and was marching South to help, to give Robb the illusion that victory was within reach, so that he wouldn’t complete negotiations with you or resolve the conflict peacefully, leaving Bolton no further chance to strike?”

“Exactly. But not just that. If he appears here with the Queen, claiming to be her loyal subject while I’m still ‘negotiating’ with Stark, then not only would my standing in the Queen’s eyes be destroyed and replaced by Bolton, but everyone inside Winterfell, from Robb to little Rickon, would be in grave danger,” Aegor pressed the point while it was still hot. “Even if I were forced to become Stark’s enemy and attack Winterfell, I would still limit the scale of the battle to avoid hurting Arya and her family. But if this siege was led personally by Daenerys and carried out by Roose Bolton, the result would be clear. Everyone in the castle, from Robb to little Rickon, anyone carrying the Stark name, would ‘die bravely’ in a brutal assault. Not even a chicken or dog would survive.”

Myrcella felt her scalp tighten. But she had to admit, if Bolton truly had such ambitions, Aegor’s prediction seemed terrifyingly plausible.

“But, but…” she bit her lip and stammered, “Even if I told Robb everything you just said, I think he’d only assume you’re bluffing and wouldn’t believe it.”

“Exactly. I don’t do pointless things. That’s why I’m not telling you this hoping you’ll relay the message for me,” Aegor nodded, knowing she probably still didn’t fully trust him, but pressing on regardless. “To avoid the worst-case scenario, I’ve decided to launch a surprise attack tonight. I won’t let the one who intends to destroy House Stark take the initiative. And to minimize the bloodshed from this assault, I need your help. Of course, I’m not asking you to assassinate anyone or open the gates. Just a small cooperation.”

“Ah!?” The subject changed too suddenly. Myrcella was momentarily stunned, shrinking her neck and shoulders, even trembling slightly.

(Lord Aegor, please don’t… even if I don’t dislike you… but I’m still just a child!)

What frightened her wasn’t just Aegor’s declaration of a surprise attack tonight, but also the fact that she had already summoned all her courage just to come and deliver a warning. Now she was somehow being chosen by the “rebels” as an accomplice.

Beyond those two reasons, to a greater extent, her fear was a cover. It masked her deeper thoughts, as she reflected on Aegor’s words and tried to evaluate their credibility.

…

Almost immediately, she sensed that something was off. After thinking a few more seconds, Myrcella understood the problem completely. This whole narrative, that “Roose Bolton harbors evil intentions and plans to annihilate House Stark,” sounded flawless and logically consistent. But it was built on the assumption that “Roose Bolton is a bad person.”

From start to finish, Aegor had merely been guiding her to accept the belief that because the Old Flayer was evil, he had done this for that reason, and that for this purpose… He had said a great deal, but none of it was proof of the initial claim. Not even a single letter exchanged between him and Bolton.

And following this kind of logic, where you assume someone is bad and then interpret their every action through that lens, then anyone in the world could be labeled a villain.

However, she didn’t immediately conclude that Aegor was lying. From the moment she rushed out to warn him until now, only a few minutes had passed. If someone could invent such a detailed and seamless explanation with a straight face in so little time after receiving unexpected news, that would be far more terrifying.

Was Aegor, unwilling to lose, placing everything on a desperate gamble? Or was he truly worried for the Queen and trying to save the Starks in his own way? Should she trust him, and agree to participate in this “small favor” to reduce bloodshed and help spare House Stark?

It seemed like a small choice, but the consequences could not be more different. If Aegor was telling the truth, then her risky action might actually reduce the violence and help House Stark avoid disaster. But if Aegor was deceiving her and manipulating her, then her interference would shatter the delicate balance of negotiation and confrontation. Stark might lose a war they were bound to win. And if anyone in House Stark was injured or killed because of it, she would bear that guilt forever.

Just as she was wrestling with this, struggling with the hardest choice of her life, Myrcella was jolted by a large hand suddenly grabbing her left wrist. Aegor, seated across from her, had noticed her daze and reached out. He gently pried open the fingers of her slightly clenched fist, one by one, until her palm was open. Then, he placed a small, nearly weightless paper box in it. Finally, he helped her close her fingers around it again.

“Myrcella, I know you are a kind and brave girl, and that you care about House Stark just as much as I do. Now, the only chance to protect them is in your hand. Hold on to it.”

(To be continued.)

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep