Chapter 497

Crimes Against Humanity!

Though none of the five thousand gathered had ever heard this phrase before, the combination of three simple words—"crime," "humanity," and "against"—possessed an intuitive clarity, much like the circulation of gold coins. It required no elaborate explanation for anyone, regardless of their education or cultural background, to instantly grasp its meaning. And so, the moment it was spoken, the entire oath-taking assembly erupted in fervor.

Aegor watched with satisfaction as the soldiers beneath him muttered the phrase he had introduced to this world, their anger and outrage rapidly crystallizing into shared hatred. He was reminded of the scene a month prior when he had stood in this very place, rallying troops to chase down the remnants of the White Walkers. Back then, faces were lined with reluctance and resignation—everyone understood the battle had to be fought, but no one was eager for it.

But today?

Today, Aegor hadn’t even named an enemy, yet the men were already clenching their fists, their faces contorted in barely restrained fury, as if they could not wait to rip their foes apart with their bare hands.

Hatred and rage had always been the most potent of human motivators. Aegor had meticulously cultivated this emotion, allowing it to simmer before removing the lid and striking the match that would ignite the blaze. In the inferno of righteous fury, even the most rational voices advocating for peace or restraint would be reduced to ashes, powerless against the clarion call of fighting for humanity.

The mood was perfect, yet Aegor remained acutely aware of reality: emotions burned hot but briefly. After a few days of forced marches across the frozen expanse, at least half of these men would cool off and start second-guessing their resolve.

So he needed something else—something to sustain their will to fight.
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“I know that some of you are thinking: Who cares?” Aegor’s voice rang out across the assembly. “The White Walker threat is over. If I can just return beyond the Wall and live as a free man, never dealing with the southern lords again, why should I care what they do?”

He raised a hand to silence the murmurs, then let his voice rise, deliberately stoking the flames.

“You’re right! After years of risking your lives against the dead, is it so wrong to ask for a moment of peace? I won’t condemn you for thinking this way. But to those who do, let me ask you this: After surrendering to survival and seeking shelter behind the Wall, will you now eagerly return north, accepting a life where you are nothing more than a wildling once again? A life where the moment you step beyond the Wall, you are hunted like a rat, chased with steel and fire?”

He let the question hang, let the words settle like a cold weight on their chests.

“No. Living north of the Wall without chains is not freedom. That is savagery!” Aegor’s voice thundered across the square. “Freedom is waking each morning without fear of starvation or frostbite. Freedom is riding south to bask in the sun and returning north to cool winds as you please. Freedom is walking into any village or city in Westeros with your head held high, without the fear of being cut down like a beast! That—and only that—is true, dignified freedom!”

The crowd was silent now, hanging onto his every word.

“We are men, not animals. We fight not just to survive but to claim what is ours by right! Land, respect, and the wealth to live without fear—these are the rewards for those who stood against the true enemy of mankind!” His voice hardened, unwavering. “My duty as Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch is nearly over. But my duty as your leader—the man who united you all—has only just begun! Until every single one of you is recognized as a true citizen of Westeros, until none of you are forced to sleep in the cold without a home of your own—I. Will. Not. Rest!”

He turned to his guards. “Bring it up!”

At his command, the soldiers he had entered with carried forward several cloth-covered crates. Heavy enough to require effort but light enough for their contents to be a mystery. Even those carrying them had no idea what lay inside. Now, as the boxes were placed on the platform, their purpose would be revealed.

Aegor strode to the first crate, seized the cloth covering it, and with a firm yank, uncovered its contents.

Crows.

The moment light hit the cages, the birds flapped their wings and cawed in agitation, hopping frantically within their wooden prisons.
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The enemy had been named. The cause had been declared. Now, these well-fed black birds would mark the climax of this grand spectacle.

Before the eyes of thousands, their anticipation and curiosity mounting, Aegor reached out and flung open the first cage.

“In the name of crimes against humanity, the Night’s Watch declares war on the Riverlands and the Vale! These two kingdoms, long-standing allies of the North, abandoned us in our darkest hour, betraying our trust!”

A dozen crows burst from the cage, wings flapping furiously as they climbed into the sky, each one carrying a message tied to its leg. The sight was inspiring—majestic, even.

Of course, only a select few knew the truth: the letters tied to these birds were not declarations of war at all. Aegor had gone to great lengths to enforce wartime information control—he wasn’t about to compromise that by sending out premature warnings of his true plans.

The messages these birds carried were nothing more than official statements pledging the Night’s Watch’s support for Daenerys Targaryen. A redundant declaration—given that the world already knew where the Watch’s loyalty lay. Lords across Westeros would likely skim them and toss them aside, dismissing them as irrelevant. This was exactly what Aegor wanted.

This display wasn’t about actual communication. It was a performance. A dramatic, public gesture meant to paint the opening strokes of a war that would be remembered for centuries.

The first flock vanished into the snowy sky. Before the soldiers below had even processed what they had seen, Aegor moved to the second cage and threw it open.

“In the name of crimes against humanity, the Night’s Watch declares war on the Reach and Dorne! These kingdoms, resting in the warmth of the South, believed the cold and the dead were someone else’s problem. They reaped the benefits of our protection, yet refused to fulfill their duty in return—shameless beyond measure!”

More black wings burst forth, cawing as they took flight.

If the soldiers had known that the Reach alone held a population hundreds of times greater than the Gift, their enthusiasm might have wavered. But in this era, where census records were practically nonexistent, most men only knew that the Reach was “large.” Without a concrete sense of scale, it meant little to them.

The final cage.

“In the name of crimes against humanity, the Night’s Watch declares war on the Stormlands and the Crownlands! The Baratheons took the throne through rebellion yet dare to call themselves the rightful rulers of Westeros! And when the kingdom’s people faced their greatest peril, they did nothing. The false king has been unmasked!”

As the last flock soared into the sky, Aegor delivered the final, decisive blow.

“Today, we do not march north! Our true expedition lies in the other direction! If the lords of the South see us as a threat, then let us be their threat! If they refuse to believe in the White Walkers, then let us drag them from their castles and thrones, and throw them beyond the Wall to feel the cold and terror for themselves!”

He thrust out his arm, his voice rising to a triumphant roar.

“March! Follow the Kingsroad south—our des