Aegor had to admit that Melisandre was an alluring woman. With red hair, red eyes, and a strikingly beautiful face, she wore a bright red robe that clearly could not have been dyed with the ordinary methods of this era. She was so dazzling that even the current queen renowned as the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms, who was ten years younger than her, could only be considered her equal in beauty. If he didn’t know her identity, he would have been delighted to meet such a stunning woman and might even have considered her as one of his potential conquests.

But at this stage, Aegor truly couldn’t fathom how this priestess whose age was a mystery, whose skills were questionable, and who relied on fire tricks and illusions to pass off as something otherworldly could possibly help his plans. She was the very woman who had deceived Stannis Baratheon, causing him to lose his family and nearly bringing the entire Baratheon house to ruin through internal strife.

Deep down, as a world traveler, Aegor instinctively felt a bit of fear toward her, not only because she had a penchant for burning people alive when she disagreed with them but also because she wielded something called “magic,” which did not exist in the modern world he came from.

Humans always fear what they don’t understand. This is a built-in self-preservation mechanism at the genetic level, and Aegor didn’t feel ashamed of it. True bravery is not the absence of fear but the ability to overcome it. While he did harbor a mix of awe and unease toward Melisandre, he wasn’t yet prepared to deal with this key figure in the plot. But since she had come to him of her own accord, he had no choice but to confront her head-on.

…

He suppressed the tension in his heart, and his rational mind quickly kicked into gear. The woman in front of him was terrifying, yes, but she wasn’t like the Mad King, who was unpredictable and bloodthirsty. If the enemy of my enemy is my friend, then Melisandre—who was aware of the White Walkers and who wholeheartedly served the Lord of Light—should, in theory, be an ally of the Night’s Watch, someone on the same side. Even though Aegor intended to leave the Night’s Watch eventually, she didn’t know that yet.

Once he worked through that line of reasoning, Aegor felt his nerves settle. Rising from his seat, he looked at the red-robed woman with a calm demeanor, though he couldn’t help but wonder whether her breathtaking beauty was natural or an illusion created through magic.

Melisandre must have come to him to gather intelligence about the state of affairs at the Wall and beyond, likely to gauge the White Walkers’ threat to humanity and to formulate a response. Should he tell her the truth? Or exaggerate the danger to see if he could extract some kind of assistance from her?

No, things must be handled step by step. First, let’s figure out how to greet her. Should he feign ignorance? If he hadn’t known the plot beforehand, he wouldn’t recognize Melisandre at this moment. It was better to play it safe. He decided to act as if he didn’t know her and addressed her simply.

“Good evening, ma’am.”

“Good evening.” Melisandre’s voice carried a soft, almost hypnotic quality as she gave him a warm, alluring smile. “The representatives of the Kingdom’s Shield have come to Dragonstone as guests. We ought to receive you with proper hospitality. Alas, the island is poor in resources, so I apologize if our welcome has been lacking.”

“You’re too kind,” Aegor replied calmly. “I’m here on official business, not for leisure.”

Melisandre smiled and nodded, moving slowly toward the table where Aegor and his companions sat.

The summer heat was oppressive, and most of the men had rolled up their sleeves, exposing their forearms. As Melisandre drew closer, the exposed skin on Aegor’s arms began to feel an undeniable warmth radiating from her, a sensation that was far from natural. It was as if the air itself around her carried a palpable heat. Aegor’s heart skipped a beat. What was this? Unless Melisandre was walking around with a fever of fifty or sixty degrees, there was no way she could generate such an intense aura of heat. Was this some sort of trick? Or was the “God” she believed in truly shielding her with this blazing warmth?

Suppressing his suspicions, Aegor kept his composure, waiting for her next question or test. He braced himself, both mentally and physically, for any unexpected developments. Yet what happened next caught everyone in the room completely off guard.

…

“Huh?”

Melisandre suddenly froze, her expression shifting into one of shock. Under the watchful gazes of those in the room, some filled with greed, others with reverence, she abruptly stepped back as though she had been burned by an invisible flame. Her piercing red eyes fixed on Aegor with a mixture of disbelief and fury.

“Guards!” she shouted, her voice ringing with authority. “Seize this heretic!”

—

Two fully armed Dragonstone guards rushed into the room, their sharp spears pointed directly at the stunned Night’s Watchman.

What was going on?

This was the second time Aegor had been captured since his arrival in this world. The first time, he had been unarmed and faced a group of peasants wielding pitchforks and axes. Knowing he was in the wrong and unable to resist, he had obediently surrendered. That capture had resulted in him being sent to the Wall to become a member of the Night’s Watch. But this time, what had he done?

There was no time to think. Aegor’s body reacted instinctively, honed by a year of service as a Ranger. His hand went to his waist, but he found no sword hilt there. He suddenly remembered that the steel sword issued by the Night’s Watch had been turned in to the armory back at Castle Black when he departed. Besides, once he reached King’s Landing, there had been no reason to carry a weapon.

“Don’t move!” one of the guards barked, tightening his grip on his spear, his expression fierce.

Aegor quickly sized up the situation. This was Dragonstone, and the men in front of him were soldiers personally trained by Stannis Baratheon. Stannis was a seasoned warrior and commander, and his soldiers would undoubtedly have better combat skills than Aegor. A one-on-one fight might be manageable, but against two armed guards and with Melisandre, a mysterious witch, standing nearby, he knew resistance was futile, even if he had been armed.

The room seemed to freeze in time. The old miner and his son, terrified, stood frozen in place. The homeowner, who had been about to offer a chair to the Red Priestess, now stood motionless in the middle of the room, gripping the chair like a lifeline. The young man assigned to guide Aegor looked utterly lost. As a native of Dragonstone, his loyalty was naturally to Stannis, the Lord of Dragonstone. But just moments ago, he had been sharing a meal with Aegor. If the Night’s Watchman resisted, which side should he take?

…

“I surrender,” Aegor said after a brief pause, his tone steady. “But please, let me settle the bill first.” He reached for his coin pouch, untied it, and tossed it to the old miner. “Go back to the ship and tell the captain I’ll be detained at the castle. Ask him to wait for me until noon tomorrow.”

…

When Aegor had tried to visit Dragonstone Castle earlier that morning, he had been turned away at the gate. Now, he was being escorted inside by armed guards.

His surrender seemed to ease the tension in the room. Melisandre visibly relaxed and followed the guards as they marched Aegor to the castle. Once inside, they tied him tightly to a pillar in one of the chambers.

Standing a few meters away, Melisandre’s voice was calm but firm. “Who sent you?”

Aegor met her gaze, his expression resolute, but his thoughts were racing. He had manipulated the Stark family, framed the current crown prince, and conned Tyrion Lannister into supporting his schemes. From one perspective, he had done enough to warrant execution ten times over. But none of his actions had harmed or even involved Stannis Baratheon, let alone offended the Lord of Light. And as for the charge of heresy, wasn’t Westeros full of heretics in the eyes of the Red God? Stannis wasn’t king yet. Who gave Melisandre the authority to persecute unbelievers?

“Jeor Mormont, the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch,” Aegor finally said. Of course, he wasn’t about to admit that Tyrion had funded his mission. But even if he told the truth, it shouldn’t offend Melisandre or her faith. Could she somehow know about his plans to leave the Wall?

“Really? And why were you sent here?”

Aegor explained his mission honestly, outlining the four tasks he had been given. Suppressing his growing frustration, he added, “Lady Melisandre, there must be some misunderstanding. This is the first time I’ve ever seen you.”

“This is indeed our first meeting,” Melisandre said, her voice laced with suspicion. “But I sense an ancient and powerful aura emanating from you, one that belongs to a foreign god. Who are you?”

Aegor’s heart skipped a beat. Ancient foreign god? He swore he had no idea what she was talking about. Could it be the lingering traces of ice magic from his encounters with the White Walkers? Or was it because he was not originally from this world that the priestess had detected something unusual about him?

Keeping his composure, he replied firmly, “Ma’am, I truly don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“Perhaps you don’t,” Melisandre said, smiling faintly. “But I have my ways of uncovering the truth.” She gestured to one of the guards. “Bring a brazier.”

A brazier? Was she planning to torture him?

Aegor’s mind raced. He had always prided himself on his ability to plan ahead. He had rehearsed excuses and escape plans for situations where his lies might be exposed, whether by the Starks, Robert Baratheon, or even Cersei Lannister. But this situation had caught him completely off guard. He had simply come to Dragonstone to survey an obsidian mine. What could he possibly confess to Melisandre? Would he be forced to reveal that he was a World traveler if she pressed him too hard? And even if he did, would she believe him?

The brazier was brought in and placed a meter in front of Aegor. To his surprise, there was no glowing hot iron inside. Instead, Melisandre produced a knife and handed it to the guard.

“Take some of his blood,” she ordered. “Just a few drops. I want him alive.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep