Chapter 382

Melisandre spoke in Valyrian, her tone sharp and commanding, but Aegor could only pick up on the name "Thoros." The rest was lost on him. Meanwhile, the man who had escaped to the safety of the Night’s Watch contingent, now identified as Tobho Mott, approached Aegor with a wide smile and spoke eagerly.

“Lord Commander, I am Tobho Mott. The messengers you sent ahead have informed me of your purpose. You’ve come to the right man. I dare not claim all of Westeros, but in King’s Landing, I am certainly the only one capable of reforging Valyrian steel.”

This was, indeed, the man Aegor had come to find, but he had no time for pleasantries. His attention was entirely focused on the crimson-robed figure opposite him.

Perhaps to deliberately oppose Melisandre, or simply because he wanted others present to understand him, Thoros chose to answer in the Common Tongue. “The Lord of Light has shown me a vision in the flames, my lady,” he said. “He has decreed that we must make haste to the Wall and take part in His final battle against the Great Other. Such an epic war demands only the finest equipment. Thus, we are here to acquire what we need.”

Tobho Mott was having none of it. Emboldened by the presence of what appeared to be a formidable Night’s Watch delegation, he raised his voice. “Epic battle? Nonsense! Even if you’re heading to the heavens to slay gods, you can’t just steal the equipment reserved for the officers of the city guard!”

But no one paid him any attention. Both sides, instead, found themselves studying the other’s leader with evident curiosity: Aegor and Melisandre scrutinized the young nobleman with golden-red hair standing beside Thoros, while the opposing group examined the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, as though he had dropped from the sky.

After a moment, the young nobleman stepped forward, smiling as he placed a hand over his chest and bowed slightly. “It is an honor to meet you here, Lord Commander. I am Beric Dondarrion, Lord of Blackhaven. These are my companions: Anguy, winner of the archery competition at the tournament celebrating Eddard Stark’s appointment as Hand of the King; Luc, a skilled swordsman known as ‘Reliable Luc’; and the boy watching the horses outside is my squire, Edric Dayne.”

“Lord Dondarrion, it is a pleasure to meet you all,” Aegor replied, returning the courtesy and briefly introducing Nina and Qhorin. Inside, however, his thoughts churned. Beric Dondarrion? Was this the same man who, in the original timeline, had been killed by Tywin’s forces only to be resurrected by Thoros? He didn’t look anything like Aegor had imagined, but then again, perhaps he hadn’t yet suffered his first death in this timeline.

“I heard from this Thoros of Myr,” Aegor continued, gesturing at the red priest, “that you wish to travel north to aid the Night’s Watch?”

“Indeed,” Beric said, his expression brimming with enthusiasm. “Lord Commander, it seems fate has brought us together as comrades-in-arms. We were at a loss for how to leave King’s Landing and head north, and yet here you are. Surely your ship can spare room for five more passengers?”

Of course, the ship had room. Even with several tons of saltpeter aboard, there was still ample space. But what truly startled Aegor was the sheer coincidence of it all—encountering Thoros, Beric, and their companions, followers of R’hllor, just as he was on this mission to invite Tobho Mott.

A coincidence? Not a chance.

Was it possible that the enigmatic R’hllor, having glimpsed Aegor’s plans to reforge Valyrian steel into arrowheads, had sent a vision to Thoros and Beric, instructing them to wait here and conveniently align their cause with his? If so, was this divine intervention, orchestrating the perfect meeting of talents to maximize the potential of his reforged weapons?

That was the optimistic interpretation. The darker possibility chilled Aegor to his core: the idea that the very thought of reforging the blade might not have been his own. Could R’hllor have planted the idea in his subconscious, influencing him to come to Tobho’s forge, thereby ensuring that this meeting would take place?

The more he thought about it, the more plausible it seemed.

Aegor had told Melisandre that R’hllor had commanded him to reforge the sword into ranged weapons. Was it possible that this wasn’t a lie but an accidental truth?

It was a terrifying thought, one that sent shivers down his spine. For a moment, he stood frozen, lost in his unsettling musings, until Beric’s voice broke through the haze.

“My lord?”

Aegor forced himself back to the present. “Oh, of course. The Night’s Watch welcomes any who would aid in the fight against the dead.”

“Let’s be clear,” Anguy, the boyish archer, interjected with a cheeky grin. “We’re here to help you deal with the dead—not to join the Watch. I’ve yet to savor the taste of a woman. If you make me swear off marriage, you might as well kill me now.”
----


Meanwhile, Melisandre and Thoros had begun arguing, their voices sharp as they debated in the Common Tongue. She accused him of failing to carry out the tasks assigned by the High Priest, while he retorted that he served R’hllor in his own way. Though Melisandre’s commanding demeanor suggested her rank within the faith was higher, Thoros’s casual defiance showed he didn’t particularly care.

“Lord Commander...” Tobho Mott, increasingly nervous, turned to Aegor for help. “Surely you’re a reasonable man. Could you persuade your friends to leave my equipment be? These are items ordered by His Grace the King—I cannot simply let them go without consequences!”

Before Aegor could respond, Luc glared menacingly at the blacksmith. “We’re heading north to fight the enemies of all mankind, to end the Long Night and protect the Seven Kingdoms. It’s your honor that your wares will be used for such a cause. Stop whining. When the dead come south, do you think your city guard will fare any better than the Watch?”

At last, Aegor returned from his troubling thoughts. He glanced at the armor his new companions had set their sights on. The craftsmanship was impressive, certainly, but it was nothing extraordinary—comparable to the gear Tywin Lannister had once donated to the Watch, which still left them with surplus.

“Enough,” Aegor said, his tone firm. “Mott still has a business to run here. Let’s not make things difficult for him. Once we reach the Gift, I’ll open the armory and let you choose equipment that suits you.”

This promise pacified the group, and Aegor, suppressing his lingering doubts, turned back to the blacksmith. He asked if Tobho had decided whether to accompany him north and reforge an “unremarkable” Valyrian steel sword for the Night’s Watch.
----


With a resigned sigh, Tobho agreed but added, “Why not bring the sword to me here? I can travel north, but I must warn you: as Westeros’s finest smith, my services don’t come cheap. We should settle the price now.”

“Name it,” Aegor replied, having no illusions that anyone would work for free simply because the Watch claimed to fight the dead.

“Whatever the size of the sword,” Tobho said hesitantly, “I will require one-tenth of its Valyrian steel as payment.”

“One-tenth?” Beric chuckled. “What a bargain! Duke Tywin Lannister would offer ten thousand gold dragons for a single Valyrian steel sword, yet here you are demanding a fortune in material alone, worth more than I collect in taxes in a year!”

Tobho, unfazed, countered with calm logic. “A full Valyrian steel sword is a priceless artifact, valued as much for its rarity as for its utility. But once melted down, it is merely an exceptional material. Its worth depends on its quantity, and until I see the blade, I cannot assess its value. However, I assure you, one-tenth of the steel is fair compensation for my work.”

After further negotiation, Aegor made a counteroffer: “I’ll give you one-fifth of the steel, with two conditions. First, any material lost during the reforging process comes out of your share. If the loss exceeds one-fifth, you’ll work for free. Second, your payment will be withheld until after the war. I’ll need the arrows for the fight against the White Walkers and the Night King. If I use less than one-fifth of the steel in battle, I’ll compensate the difference in coin.”

Tobho agreed without hesitation. For him, the opportunity to work with Valyrian steel was reward enough.

After a brief discussion, arrangements were made, and Tobho prepared to leave. Moments later, he turned to his apprentice, Gendry, and instructed him to gather his tools and horses. The party would set out immediately for the Wall, with the Lord Commander leading the way.