The noisy chatter outside brought Aegor back to reality. Now wasn’t the time to get lost in thought. He handed his horse’s reins to the captain of Eddard Stark’s guards and gestured for them to enter the partially set-up Night’s Watch office. The two guests—one a stern soldier, the other the spirited Arya Stark sat down. Aegor followed them inside, all the while continuing to plan in secret.

For the sake of his deception, he might now have to position himself as a peacekeeper, which struck him as ironic. But there was no room for laughter. This was a serious and messy problem. Stopping the War of the Five Kings, just thinking about it gave him flashbacks to his failed attempt to stop Bran from falling. Was this war another machination of some divine entity?

Wait. This line of thinking led nowhere. Forget those meddlesome “gods.” The best solution to stop the chaos, logically, would be to eliminate Littlefinger and Varys—these two master manipulators—in one fell swoop. But he couldn’t do it himself. The idea of relying on outside help naturally brought him to Jaqen H’ghar, but even that led to a dead end.

The wounds from his encounter with Melisandre were still healing, and his thoughts about the Faceless Man only deepened his headache. He hadn’t forgotten Jaqen; he simply didn’t know how to approach him.

—

Jaqen H’ghar was from Braavos, a city unique in more ways than one. Braavos wasn’t just known for the Iron Bank. It was a haven of multiculturalism, a city-state founded by former slaves who had permanently abolished slavery. Its trade networks were unmatched, its religious and cultural diversity widely respected. The Iron Bank wielded immense financial and political influence, and then there was the House of Black and White, home to the legendary Faceless Men, assassins renowned for their lethal precision. Overseeing it all was the Sealord, a ruler chosen through an enigmatic and intricate selection process.

Braavos had never lost a war, even against powerful opponents like Pentos. Such consistent victories were no accident. Winning at that scale required unparalleled coordination between its institutions—the Sealord, the Iron Bank, and likely even the Faceless Men. These groups were likely interconnected, perhaps even operated by the same elite ruling class.

It wasn’t far-fetched to imagine the House of Black and White doubling as an intelligence agency, training spies and assassins to eliminate threats to Braavos’ interests.

Jaqen H’ghar was no ordinary killer. He was a high-level Faceless Man capable of training apprentices, a spy and an agent of a city-state known for its far-reaching influence. Why would such a man allow himself to end up imprisoned in King’s Landing? Was it a mistake, or was he there on purpose, perhaps with a mission to kill someone in Westeros or gather information?

Aegor had nothing solid to work with. Creating an “accident” to rescue Jaqen and earn his favor had briefly crossed his mind. But without reliable allies or a team he could trust, it was impossible to execute such a plan.

—

Violent solutions like killing were off the table. That left only one viable option: stabilize the situation in King’s Landing and help Eddard Stark gain the upper hand, or at least avoid a catastrophic defeat.

But going head-to-head with Littlefinger? Aegor didn’t think he had the skill for that. On top of that, Littlefinger had a temporary ally in Varys, another schemer eager to sow chaos albeit for different reasons.

Aegor’s foreknowledge of the plot seemed almost useless in the face of these two high-level players. While they thrived on manipulation and intelligence gathering, he was juggling multiple responsibilities and struggling just to maintain his footing. The bonds, the Night’s Watch office, the chaos in King’s Landing, it all threatened to overwhelm him. One mistake could expose him and get him killed.

Besides, what he knew was only the original plot—before the divergence.

He thought back to his failure to stop Bran’s fall. That experience had taught him that direct interference in the plot could easily backfire. How had he managed to escape the mess in Winterfell?

By secretly informing the Stark family.

—

Past successful experiences suddenly gave Aegor an epiphany. Just as he had avoided directly dealing with the assassin to clear himself of any connection with Bran’s attempted murder, if he wanted to help Eddard, there was no need to confront Littlefinger directly. Eddard Stark, as the de facto ruler of the North, had his own resources and intelligence. All Aegor needed to do was to sow discord between Eddard and Littlefinger, preventing the former from being led by the nose. That alone would suffice.

—

“Aegor, my lady is talking to you.”

A male voice abruptly interrupted Aegor’s train of thought. He looked up and found himself face to face with a young girl’s stern, expectant expression.

“Ah, sorry. I was just thinking about recruitment. What can I do for you, Miss Arya?”

“Are you the Aegor that Jon talked about?” Arya pouted, repeating her earlier question. “The Night’s Watch ranger who killed the White Walker?”

“Yes.”

Aegor reluctantly admitted it, noticing the incredulous look on Jory Cassel, the captain of Eddard Stark’s guards. It felt strange, even guilt-inducing, to tell the truth for once.

“Are White Walkers really that strong?”

“They’re terrifying. Gary and I fought one, two against one, and we still almost got killed.”

“But you managed to kill it in the end. You must be very good with a sword!” Arya’s eyes sparkled with admiration. “Come here. I want to talk to you alone.”

“Don’t follow us!” she yelled at Jory and the other guards, then promptly grabbed the still-confused Aegor by the arm and dragged him into the unfinished “Chief Logistics Officer’s Office.” After closing the door behind them, Arya leaned in with a conspiratorial air and asked, “Can you teach me how to use a sword?”

“Huh?” Aegor blinked, taken aback. Shouldn’t Eddard have already hired her a swordsmanship instructor by now? Wasn’t it supposed to be that Braavosi water dancer, Syrio… Syrio Forel?

“Why not ask your father to hire a teacher for you?”

“How could he agree to that? Are you stupid? I’m a girl!”

Something felt off. What change in the storyline had led to this deviation? Aegor strongly suspected it was because of his own meddling. The butterfly effect: a small disturbance in initial conditions could lead to a massive chain reaction over time. Maybe it was his fabricated accusation against Joffrey that shifted Eddard’s priorities, or perhaps Arya had hidden her “Needle” from her father too carefully this time. Whatever the reason, it wasn’t worth worrying about now.

Right now, he had enough on his plate. He couldn’t be distracted by Eddard Stark’s spirited little girl.

“I’m sorry, young lady, but I’m busy,” Aegor said firmly, though inwardly, he thought, I’m busy trying to save your father’s life. He shook his head politely. “Why don’t you ask your father’s guards?”

“My father just helped you a lot, and you won’t even do me this one small favor?”

Your father helped me, not you, Aegor thought bitterly. Arya was undoubtedly a key character in the grand scheme of things. If circumstances allowed, she could be considered a potential ally. But right now, her worth to him was close to zero, at least until she completed her training with the Faceless Men.

It was utilitarian, no doubt, to measure someone’s value solely by their usefulness. But Aegor was in a precarious position. He couldn’t afford to indulge in sentimentality.

He shook his head again, this time more decisively, preparing to decline her request outright. Under Arya’s fiery glare, he began formulating the words of rejection in his mind. Yet, at the last moment, a sudden idea struck him.

***

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep