Chapter 335

A weirwood forest?

Aegor leaned over again to peer into the canyon, and sure enough, scattered specks of deep red came into view. The recent blizzard had blanketed the North and the Gift in white, and winter’s lifeless stillness made everything appear barren. He’d initially assumed the red was the color of deadwood beneath the snow. But upon closer inspection, he realized that the banks of the Milkwater, the steep canyon slopes—everywhere his eyes could reach—were blanketed with the blood-red leaves of weirwoods, their color so vivid it couldn’t be concealed even by the snow.

Could it be that when Bran the Builder constructed the Wall, he deemed the canyon’s terrain unsuitable for an ice barrier and instead planted this massive forest of weirwoods to compensate, preventing any enemies from exploiting the gap?

The idea sounded absurd.

From what Aegor knew, the Wall did indeed generate a kind of energy field that weakened and repelled White Walkers and wights—something he called the “Anti-Cold God Barrier.” If that energy truly came from weirwoods, then this colossal forest might well fill the defensive gap where the Wall did not extend.

But a problem arose: if a weirwood forest alone could stop the White Walkers, what was the point of building the Wall? Why not just plant weirwoods throughout the Haunted Forest? Surely that would have been simpler than erecting a 700-foot-tall ice wall.

Would that mean Bran the Builder was a fool for not thinking of this?

...

So far, Aegor had only encountered one person with extraordinary powers—Melisandre. Despite their physical intimacy, the Red Woman remained tight-lipped about magic, rarely showing or explaining her abilities. Still, she didn’t need to; Aegor had his own observations. From his interactions with her, he had a growing sense that even magic adhered to the laws of thermodynamics.

Weirwoods likely didn’t generate energy on their own. If they could, the entire world would be covered in these “perpetual motion machines.” Instead, he theorized, weirwoods were merely conduits, akin to antennas: they transmitted energy, but the energy itself had to come from elsewhere, converted from some other source.

The giant heart tree beneath Long Night Hold was shielded by the Wall’s ice, but this vast forest of weirwoods? If Aegor were a White Walker, he’d simply send wights to destroy the trees bit by bit. Trees couldn’t defend themselves—unless their “Anti-Cold God Barrier” was strong enough to kill any White Walker or wight that approached. Otherwise, they were still vulnerable.

...

“Don’t pin humanity’s hopes of resisting the White Walkers on trees. We are the shield that guards the realms of men—not the weirwoods.” Though the sight of the sprawling forest was impressive, and its age likely ancient, Aegor shook his head. “Stay vigilant. Keep the patrols running as planned, and start scouting for a suitable location to establish a waystation.”

“Understood,” Colin agreed without hesitation.

...

As the journey wore on, fatigue began to take hold. Conversations dwindled and eventually ceased altogether. Having been in a leadership role for so long, Aegor found the experience of patrolling as a foot soldier both unfamiliar and exhausting. Fortunately, the clear skies and mild winds made the trek bearable, almost like an exercise routine. Setting out at dawn, they stopped briefly at midday for a meal before pressing on. With the sun setting to their west, they quickened their pace, finally reaching their destination—a temporary camp near the Bay of Ice—just before nightfall.

The camp consisted of several mismatched tents set up in the lee of a large rock to shield against the wind. Seven or eight black-clad Night’s Watchmen were scattered about, either resting or cooking dinner over a fire. None of them had met the new Lord Commander before, and only after Colin introduced him did they hurriedly stand and salute.

“Lord Commander, it’s been a long day of travel. Shall we rest here, or head to the port site while there’s still some light left?”

...

Aegor glanced up. The sky was darkening, but night hadn’t fully set in yet. Though his legs were sore from the day’s march, he sighed. Resting was a luxury for someone in his position.

“Let’s go inspect the port site. If all goes well, we’ll take the main road back tomorrow.”

“As you command.”

Colin, ever the seasoned ranger, showed no signs of fatigue despite the long trek. He quickly dropped his pack, stretched, and began leading the way down from the high ground toward the coastline.

The area along the canyon’s southern edge, where the Gift met the western mountains, was technically part of the Frostfangs, though far from the peaks and ridges of the main range. As they descended, the terrain gradually became less rugged. In the first half of the journey, the group had walked along steep slopes—sheer cliffs to their right and towering mountains to their left. But as they neared the coast, the cliffs softened into gentler inclines, and the path widened into a grassy slope slightly elevated above the river valley.

The temporary camp was situated at the end of this slope, atop a rocky outcrop that overlooked the Bay of Ice.

The sun had fully dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky faintly illuminated. Across the bay, the shadowy outline of the northern canyon wall loomed like a black barricade. The faint sound of waves lapping against the shore mingled with the chill of the salty sea breeze. Colin led Aegor down from the rocky high ground to the beach below.

The Milkwater’s low sediment content meant it contributed little to land formation, leaving the estuary largely unchanged over centuries. The result was a pristine white-sand beach, gleaming faintly in the dim light. It stretched out into the sea, free of reefs and obstructions—a rare feature in such northern waters.

“This beach extends into the sea without any hidden reefs, making it an ideal site for launching new ships,” Colin explained. “About half a mile south, the land juts into the bay, forming a natural breakwater. It’s hard to see now in this light, but that protrusion shields this stretch of water from waves, creating a calm harbor. The foundation is solid rock, not silt, and remains above water even at high tide. We could build a fortress and lighthouse there to defend the harbor and guide ships—no need for costly land reclamation.”

“Thoroughly considered,” Aegor remarked. “You a shipwright by trade?”

“Not me,” Colin chuckled, gesturing toward one of the men roasting beef at the camp. “That lad’s a bastard from the Iron Islands. He’s the one who pointed it out.”

“Let’s have a look,” Aegor said, nodding.

...

At high tide, Aegor stepped cautiously along the moss-covered rocks of the breakwater. Waves broke rhythmically against its edge, their spray mingling with the icy air.

The breakwater, a narrow triangular ridge of rock extending nearly a mile into the sea, was modest in size. But considering the primitive world he now inhabited, it was sufficient for the small wooden ships the Night’s Watch and the North required.

“Do we know the water depth near the shore?” Aegor asked.

“Not exactly, but it doesn’t bottom out at low tide.”

“I’ll arrange for a team to level the breakwater’s surface and construct a fortress and lighthouse at its tip,” Aegor decided. “But whether this will serve as a proper dock depends on the depth. I don’t like ‘not exactly.’ Borrow a boat from the clansfolk and measure the depth systematically. Once we’re certain, we can proceed with the port’s construction.”

“Yes, my lord,” Colin replied.

Surveying the coastline, Aegor saw that the western shore’s jagged landscape had unexpectedly produced a natural harbor. Though small, and with much left to be determined, it was a promising start.

“The basic layout is clear: shipyards on this side of the beach, docks on the other. This will be the North’s naval port, officially under Robb Stark’s jurisdiction. If the Warden of the North has additional requests, they’ll be accommodated—he’ll foot the bill. As for the Night’s Watch outpost, that rocky high ground will do nicely. A fortress there will overlook the harbor, serving as a patrol base in peacetime and a defensive garrison during attacks. It’s perfect.”

“Sounds like a solid plan,” Colin said, stroking his beard. “What will we call this place? We can’t keep calling it ‘temporary outpost.’”

“A name, huh?” Aegor muttered, gazing across the windswept bay. The answer came quickly. “Facing the Bay of Ice, near the canyon, and home to the North’s navy... Let’s keep it simple. Icecanyon Port.”

“Fitting,” Colin agreed. “Icecanyon Port it is.”

With the inspection complete and the sky fully dark, Aegor turned back toward the camp with Colin and the guards. As they ascended the rocky slope, he glanced eastward, toward the shadowy mountains.

He hadn’t forgotten the other purpose of this trip.

“You mentioned a main road leading back to the Gift. Can it handle cavalry and wagons?”

“It can. The mountains here aren’t high, and the road cuts through the lower valleys. The clansfolk often use it to trade livestock and other goods with the Night’s Watch. With some widening and leveling, it could easily accommodate wagons.”

“Good. The port’s detailed plans can wait until the experts from White Harbor arrive. The construction department will coordinate with them and bring me the final proposal. Tomorrow, we have another task: find a wide, flat area along this road, far from the coast and any clansfolk settlements. I have a special use for it.”

“A special use?” Colin raised an eyebrow. “Is this for the patrol waystation you mentioned earlier? But that would need to be on the canyon route, not near the road.”

“It’s not a waystation. It’s a testing ground. I’ve had some... specialized weapons designed to fight the White Walkers. They need to be tested far from any settlements.”