Chapter 383

"Just missing Sandor Clegane and Brienne of Tarth, and the team would be complete," Aegor thought, struggling to suppress a wry grin.

With Colin (without his assistant) in tow, alongside Beric, Thoros, Tobho Mott, and the latter’s apprentice—King Robert’s forgotten bastard—Aegor successfully departed through the King's Gate before the city closed for the night. They boarded the Blackbird at the docks near the industrial quarter and began their voyage back north.

Originally, the trip had been to secure saltpeter, but by the time the Blackbird set sail, the human passengers and their baggage outweighed the cargo itself. The small sailing vessel, already cramped, had to accommodate eight additional passengers. Aegor painstakingly reworked the watch schedules, redistributed sleeping arrangements, and even jettisoned most of the ballast to avoid overloading the ship. Despite the chaos, they managed to leave port just as the sun dipped below the horizon. To ensure the comfort of Beric and the esteemed blacksmith, Aegor even ceded part of the Lord Commander's quarters to them.

Fortunately, this leg of the journey didn’t require him to focus on writing yet another half-altered The Prince. The cramped and uncomfortable conditions, while unpleasant, were bearable.

The fleets of Stannis and Daenerys, patrolling Blackwater Bay, allowed the Blackbird to pass unchallenged. By nightfall, they had reached open water. The return trip northward proved far less smooth than the voyage south, as worsening winter weather forced them to anchor twice during the nights. Even so, compared to the usual treachery of the Narrow Sea in winter, this was a stroke of divine fortune, leaving no room for complaints. After a week at sea, Aegor finally returned to Eastwatch’s docks, meeting his self-imposed deadline to complete the mission without incident.
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The port was eerily empty, devoid of other ships. Thankfully, the workers and soldiers moving about on the docks were very much alive—a reassuring sight for Aegor, who hadn’t received any news from the Gift during his absence. As he disembarked, his new companions were awestruck, their gazes fixed on the towering Wall. Meanwhile, Aegor immediately approached Eastwatch’s commander, Cotter Pyke—once his rival for Lord Commander but now a dutiful subordinate—to inquire about the Wall’s status.

“The Shadow Tower and the Gorge have been seeing constant trouble,” Cotter reported. “Until a few days ago, we were receiving daily raven messages—reports of the dead appearing within sight of patrols south of the Gorge, desperately requesting reinforcements. But the volume of messages overwhelmed the supply of ravens, and we’ve had no word from the western defenses since. We’ve had to rely on signals passed along by Wall-top patrols to confirm that no strongholds have fallen—for now.”

Aegor nodded grimly. The outdated and limited communication methods meant he couldn’t expect a complete picture of the Gift’s situation while still at Eastwatch. As long as the Wall hadn’t been breached, there was no cause for panic. “Good. Send for horses and wagons immediately. I’ll be escorting my guests and some special cargo back to Crown's Rest.”

“As you command.” Cotter Pyke bowed his head. Though he had initially feared Aegor’s leadership would bring ruin to the Night’s Watch, time had proven such concerns unfounded. Despite lingering resentment, he no longer entertained thoughts of challenging the Lord Commander’s authority. “However, Lord Commander, there’s another matter requiring urgent attention. The weather in the Bay of Seals has worsened—ice is forming even during the day. As you can see, the port is empty. Every ship we have, from the Raven’s Claw and Talon to the newly donated Mormont’s Fury and Maester Aemon, is engaged in icebreaking operations around the clock. Thin ice is easy enough to clear, but preventing it from re-forming into thick sheets is a constant struggle. And even if we manage that, there’s always more drifting in from elsewhere, forcing us to intercept or remove it. Once the Blackbird is unloaded, I’ll be sending her to assist. But if the temperature continues to drop, we’ll soon face conditions beyond our ability to manage. If the bay freezes over, the Others could simply walk across the ice—far easier than scaling the Gorge.”

The subtext was clear: while the situation at the Gorge was dire, Eastwatch itself was in desperate need of reinforcements.

“Let the Blackbird assist with icebreaking for now. If any ships from Essos or the south arrive, requisition them in my name to bolster your efforts,” Aegor instructed. “As for additional forces, I’ll make a decision once I’ve assessed the situation along the Wall.”
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Unloading the saltpeter went smoothly. The barrels, enough to fill two wagons, were quickly transferred to carts. However, with the remaining horses reserved for the rangers, there weren’t enough mounts for everyone. Aegor had no choice but to cram his companions into a single “Gift public carriage” to ensure they all arrived at Crown's Rest in one trip.

The “capital of the Gift” still stood tall along the Kingsroad, looking even busier than usual. Since the town’s construction had been completed the previous month, its permanent residents had moved from tents into modest but weatherproof houses. But as Aegor’s caravan approached, the snow-covered road revealed a surprising sight: a sprawling tent city outside Crown's Rest’s walls. New arrivals, wrapped in ragged furs, milled about the encampment, staring curiously at the incoming carts.

“Crown's Rest is even larger than I’d heard,” Beric Dondarrion remarked, though his tone turned quizzical. “But I thought the Gift had no distinction between nobles and commoners. How is it that a town this size cannot house all its people, forcing some to camp outside the walls?”

“These tents weren’t here when I left,” Aegor replied, already understanding their origin. “But I issued a mid-level alert before heading to King’s Landing. According to the plan, all Gift residents more than a day’s travel from the nearest stronghold were to relocate to pre-designated fortifications. These people likely arrived late and couldn’t be accommodated inside the walls, so they’ve been temporarily housed outside to avoid disrupting the town’s order.”

Beric nodded thoughtfully, his curiosity piqued. “You mentioned a mid-level alert. That implies there are high and low levels as well. If it’s not a state secret, could you explain the conditions that trigger each level and the corresponding measures?”

“Low-level alerts are the default state. Since taking command, the Gift has been under continuous low-level alert due to the disturbances in the Haunted Forest. This includes mandatory military training for adult men, constant snow removal on key roads, unbroken patrols both on the ground and atop the Wall, and stationed guards in every inhabited village. These are basic precautions for the northernmost frontier, even in times of peace.

“Mid-level alerts are declared when enemy forces are detected near the Wall, and commanders suspect an imminent attack. All activities are concentrated around defendable strongholds, and patrols are maximized.

“As for high-level alerts, that’s the final stage—when the Others lead the dead in an all-out assault on the Wall. Beacon fires will be lit, signaling a complete evacuation of the Gift and the concentration of all forces—over forty-five thousand soldiers and civilians—into nineteen strongholds along the Wall, Crown's Rest, and... other secure locations.” Aegor caught himself, realizing that the existence of Hardhome’s fortified port was still a military secret. “Weapons stores will be opened, dragon glass and incendiary arms distributed, and all production halted. At that point, it’s either victory or annihilation.”

“Now that’s preparation,” Beric said, genuinely impressed. He couldn’t help but marvel at the transformation of the Night’s Watch under its new leadership. Even without considering their equipment, just having such detailed plans and the capability to execute them was a testament to their newfound strength. “If the Gift had more people, with a commander like you, I doubt even the Iron Throne could resist your army.”
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The caravan rumbled through Crown's Rest’s outer gates, the creaking wheels echoing down the neatly arranged streets. To Aegor’s surprise, the town seemed far more crowded than a mid-level alert should have warranted. Something wasn’t right.

Pushing his suspicions aside, they continued on to the inner keep. Before they even entered the courtyard, Aegor’s ears caught a sharp, familiar voice coming from the training yard—not far from the gate.

It was Arya Stark.