Returning to his office after parting ways with Petyr, Aegor immediately summoned his subordinates.

After dispatching a large number of men to serve as envoys across the North, there were actually very few senior officers left in Winterfell. Of course, having fewer people had its benefits—at least the meeting started quickly.

“I just received word that this thing has appeared among the Gift Army.” Aegor slapped the note Petyr had just given him onto the table, his face grim. “When did this start? Why is it that I, the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, found out later than outsiders? I’ve stressed repeatedly that you all must remain vigilant and report anything unusual. Did all of that go in one ear and out the other?”

The officers, confused by the sudden scolding, looked at each other, completely unaware of what had provoked the Lord Commander’s anger. No one dared to speak first. The room fell silent, until Aegor took the initiative to break it—by naming names.

“Harvey, you first. Did you know about this?”

Harvey stood up and braced himself. “I did…”

“When?”

“Yesterday afternoon. I overheard a few soldiers talking about it during patrol.”

“Then why didn’t you report it to me?”

“Because… I didn’t think… it was serious enough to require your attention.”

Aegor was speechless. This boy was clever, knowing exactly how to dodge responsibility—by admitting to a lack of experience, not deliberate negligence. Ignorance wasn’t a sin, after all. That was definitely the safest excuse. How could he punish him for that? Dismissal? Demotion? Gods, these men were already the best of the bunch he had personally selected from among the soldiers. Even so, the number of competent officers was still low.

“My Lord, you’re being too harsh on them,” said Qyburn. As a technical officer in the Gift Army, he rarely spoke at meetings. But this time, with fewer attendees than usual and all the commanding officers silent as frightened chickens, he had no choice but to speak up, relying on his achievements in weapon development to carry some weight. “Most of these lads come from common backgrounds. The first time they encounter something like this, they’ll likely just find it amusing. The content of the note doesn’t even target you directly. Why would they think it needed to be reported?”

The old man made a fair point. Aegor sighed inwardly. Political sensitivity wasn’t like reading or arithmetic. It couldn’t be taught in a few lessons. People who hadn’t grown up in noble houses, steeped in scheming and power games since childhood, simply lacked the instinct and alertness required for such matters.

But then another problem arose. Among the Gift Army’s officers, there were a few of noble birth. The largest group came from the Crownlands—lords who had once supported Renly’s rebellion and were exiled to the Wall after Stannis’s victory. Though most had been sent out as envoys, at least two were still present.

“Buckwell, Leon. The others lack background and experience, but you two are born noble. Can you explain why you also failed to report anything?”

The two Crownlands nobles exchanged a look, silently deciding who would speak first. After a moment, Jarman Buckwell answered with a serious expression. “My Lord, we are from the Crownlands. When this mysterious note first appeared in King’s Landing, we were among the first in the realm to hear about it. In fact, after all these years, Littlefinger’s scandal… cough, the Hand being anonymously slandered, has long been known across the Narrow Sea. Everyone in the Seven Kingdoms has heard of it. To us, it was ancient history. That’s why we let our guard down when we overheard soldiers discussing it.”

“But we forgot that most of the Gift Army is made up of New Gift settlers from beyond the Wall,” Leon added helplessly. “To them, the Queen’s foremost minister, someone you’ve recently been close to, having such a dark past is a huge scandal. On this point, our sense of responsibility and vigilance was severely lacking. There’s no excuse. We are willing to accept whatever punishment you see fit.”

With both a clear explanation and an admission of fault, Aegor found it hard to press further. After all, guarding against underhanded tactics wasn’t technically part of these officers’ duties—it was an extra layer of expectation he had added. A soldier’s job was to obey without question. Political sensitivity required independent thought. Expecting both, especially under the conditions of this era, was too much.

Moreover, Buckwell and Leon’s explanation wasn’t just an excuse. It was true that the New Gift settlers had never heard of Littlefinger’s scandal. It was natural that most of them wouldn’t pay attention to such things. And yet, Varys had managed to seize on this minor point, using a note Aegor had forged long ago to stir up fresh waves. That kind of calculated manipulation was chilling.

A long-standing issue had now fully come to light. It could no longer be ignored.

That issue was: as the de facto Lord of the Gift, Aegor held great military power, but his soft power was severely lacking.

He had an army, but no advisors or strategists.

—

When he had served as Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, life had been much simpler. As long as he could defeat the White Walkers on the battlefield, he was considered a qualified leader. No one cared about anything else. But now, after breaking the shackles he had once placed on himself and stepping onto the political stage of the Seven Kingdoms, he was no longer facing just blood and steel. His enemies could not be fought with swords alone. The problem he had ignored for so long—the lack of trustworthy advisors, people he could consult on important matters, who could offer him guidance at critical moments—had now become glaringly obvious.

Following a brief wave of frustration, a powerful urge surged up inside him.

He knew exactly what that feeling was: a thirst for talent.

Aegor now desperately—no, absolutely—needed subordinates and counselors as insightful, politically astute, cunning, and capable as Petyr or Varys. People who could help him navigate the game of thrones. But in this world, where education was still limited, the few people who fit those criteria were either his enemies, like Varys, his allies and partial “superiors,” like Petyr, or nobles like Tyrion… not a single one of them could be recruited. It was maddening.

No, there was one girl in Winterfell who somewhat met the criteria. She had no power, no influence, no status, and yearned for protection and a chance to change her fate. If he beckoned, she would come without hesitation. But Myrcella’s age and gender—barely thirteen—and her identity as a former Princess made it impossible for Aegor to keep her in the army. Nor could he introduce her to the Queen. The more he thought about it, the more regretful he became. For a moment, Aegor even wished he had never met or understood that little Princess.

—

After thinking for a while, Aegor’s brewing anger had completely dissipated. He couldn’t even remember who he meant to scold next.

But truthfully, he had never intended to punish anyone severely. His subordinates’ oversight had irritated him, yes, but he had only pretended to be angry so they would recognize the seriousness of the matter and grow more alert. The Gift Army had always been dependable when it came to following orders and completing combat missions. If he began scolding or punishing commanders for things outside their scope, it would be nothing more than pointless rage. Worse, it could cause resentment and lead to internal collapse.

“Very well. I accept your explanations. This matter ends here.”

Aegor had meant to follow with a warning to learn from this and increase vigilance, but as the words came to his lips, he realized it would be like expecting a rooster to lay eggs. Whether it worked or not, trying to force it would only cause officers to transfer pressure downward, and the entire Gift Army might end up in a state of paranoia, suspicious of everything. That kind of atmosphere would rot a good army from the inside out.

Political duties should be handled by those trained for them. Soldiers only needed to obey orders.

He didn’t want to waste time on minor issues and went straight to the next agenda item. “This note has disrupted public opinion in Winterfell, interfered with the Hand’s life, and indirectly affected Her Grace’s great cause of unifying the Seven Kingdoms. I now expect every department to control its ranks. Issue this order: no more discussion or spreading of this rumor. Violators will be punished under military law. If this isn’t handled properly, I will hold the commanding officers accountable. Understood?”

“Understood, Lord.”

“Harvey, Meilan, Buckwell, and Leon stay. The rest of you are dismissed.”

Everyone understood that what followed might involve sensitive matters. Those not named left the room swiftly and quietly.

“Harvey, Meilan. You two are in charge of a thorough investigation. Trace this matter from start to finish—find out how the note entered the Gift Army, through what channels, and when. Try to identify the source. If you find any leads, do not act on your own. Report to me immediately. Understood?”

“Understood, Lord.”

“You may go.” Aegor waved them off. Once the two had left, he looked at the remaining pair. “The two of you, after breakfast tomorrow, go see the Hand. He will assign you tasks. As long as they do not harm the interests of the Night’s Watch or the Gift, and do not interfere with Her Grace’s goal of unifying the Seven Kingdoms, you are to follow his instructions. You may mobilize any unit or personnel, except for the artillery. For matters involving less than twenty people, you don’t need my approval. Handle them as top priority.”

“Yes, Lord.”

“Also, the reason I’m sending the two of you is to split the work. After receiving instructions from the Hand, Buckwell, you’ll be in charge of execution. Leon, your job is to come back and report to me as quickly as possible, then rejoin Buckwell. But don’t make it obvious. Understand?”

“Buckwell executes the task. I report to you, Lord, on what we’re doing, without letting others know.”

Aegor nodded. Littlefinger was an ally for now, but one should always be cautious. More importantly, he had realized something: instead of expecting soldiers to develop political instincts, it was better to expend some effort himself. Until he could find trustworthy and competent aides, this was the only way to prevent such lapses from happening again.

(To be continued.)

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep