Chapter 492

A thousand years and another thousand? What did that mean?

Aegor and Melisandre exchanged confused glances, entirely clueless about what the greenseer was talking about.

“Heh, the Lady of Light hasn’t mentioned me to you at all, has she?” Seeing the puzzled look on Aegor’s face, Bran knew he had guessed correctly. Though his anger flared again, the thousands of years he had endured tempered his emotions somewhat. After venting with a single outburst, his fury faded, leaving behind only a trace of frustration on his otherwise lifeless face. That faint trace of emotion, ironically, made him seem more human. “Newly chosen one, take a guess—before I returned to the Wall, do you think I willingly spent centuries in some desolate place in the far north, so remote it doesn’t even appear on maps?”

Aegor swallowed hard, silently composing himself.

He had indeed been startled by the greenseer’s sudden outburst. Attempting to bluff only to have the target flip the script was, admittedly, a bit embarrassing. But Aegor didn’t see it as a failure—he was no god, after all. As a mortal, it was already impressive that he had maintained his composure, flinching only slightly in the face of an extraordinary being’s rage.

Shrugging as if unaffected, he responded, “It seems not. I’d be interested to hear the details.”

“I assume you’ve already heard of the Lady of Light’s origins—the so-called ‘true dragon bloodline’ that took root in this world. But the specifics, I doubt you know. When the true dragon appeared, defeating this world’s original ruler—what you now call the Cold God—and banishing him to the Lands of Eternal Winter, I was chosen to be his jailer. My duty was to watch his every move and raise the alarm if he stirred.” Bran’s piercing gaze locked onto Aegor, completely ignoring the wary Melisandre at his side. “At the time, the true dragon… though I’m not sure if calling her a ‘lady’ is appropriate for a dragon—you get the idea—was gravely injured from her battle. She needed time to heal and tend to her newly born offspring. Her decision to let the Cold God live, rather than hunt him down and destroy him, was understandable. She had freed this world and me from the grip of that cruel deity, and I owed her an eternal debt of loyalty and service. I accepted my role willingly, without complaint.”

“When she eventually succumbed to her injuries, I shifted my loyalty to her daughter without hesitation. In the War for the Dawn, I fulfilled my duties as her follower, standing firmly by her side—by the side of the one now known as the Lady of Light.” His tone softened as he finally unburdened his tale. Even the faint remnants of dissatisfaction disappeared from his face, leaving behind his usual calm. “No one expected the Lady of Light, barely a century old, to defeat the Cold God, who had lived hundreds of times longer. She won that battle without even exerting her full power. It was natural for no one to demand she take the risk of pursuing him further, into the heart of his power in the Lands of Eternal Winter. Everyone believed that, with her rapid growth, it would only be a matter of a few centuries before she crushed the Cold God like a mere insect. So, when she ordered me to continue watching over him until she returned to finish the job, I didn’t hesitate to obey.”

And that “return” had dragged on until now?

While Melisandre still looked utterly baffled, Aegor had already pieced together the story in his mind. He finally understood the source of the greenseer’s simmering resentment.

Anyone would be furious after being told to “wait a moment,” only for that moment to stretch into millennia. So, the greenseer… in a way, he was a colleague, even a “senior.” Unfortunately, he was a senior filled with complaints and discontent. His grudge against R’hllor was obvious, but he dared not direct his anger at her. Instead, he had chosen to unload it on the newly chosen representative—Aegor.

“The rest, you can imagine. I waited through the first millennium, thinking she might be building her strength for a decisive blow. I waited another millennium, speculating that she might be occupied with more pressing matters. But then, in yet another millennium, news from the east began to trickle in: she wasn’t preparing for battle. She was looking for ways to open a portal between worlds—to return and find her father!” Bran’s voice, though steady, grew increasingly intense. “She had so much free time, yet she couldn’t spare a moment to deal with the Cold God. She’s off gallivanting through worlds while I’m stuck here, face-to-face with him every day, freezing in this icy hellscape. Day after day…”

Aegor suddenly realized: Bran’s earlier request to have Melisandre leave wasn’t to attack him, but because he genuinely had sensitive matters he didn’t want the priestess to overhear.

“Ahem.” Aegor coughed to interrupt the greenseer’s rant. Letting him continue would only further tarnish R’hllor’s image in her followers’ minds—a situation that could prove disastrous for Aegor as her chosen representative. “Melisandre, there’s nothing critical here anymore. Please wait next door for a while.”

The Red Priestess frowned, reluctant to leave as she soaked in the ancient secrets Bran was revealing—secrets that even the flames couldn’t reveal. But ultimately, she didn’t dare defy the will of the Lord of Light’s chosen. She nodded reluctantly and left.

Bran didn’t even glance at her departure. He simply gave Aegor a peculiar look before resuming. “R’hllor enjoys herself in her own world, her overwhelming power enough to keep the Cold God cowed. The true enemy is far beyond his reach, so his anger naturally falls on the one person stuck guarding him: me.”

“Did you ever try to contact her during all this time?”

“Of course I did! Countless times! But every attempt was like a stone sinking into the sea—no response, not even once. Thousands of years spent in a deadly game of cat and mouse with the Cold God, countless decoys and manifestations destroyed, countless brushes with death. And when he finally made a move to leave his prison, I thought it was over—I thought she’d return to end it all. Instead, she just toured the Wall and left again! And now, here she is, choosing a mere mortal outsider—you—to be her representative. Why? Why would she do this?”

…

Aegor, who had just praised R’hllor’s reliability, now found himself facing a former subordinate airing her dirty laundry. The greenseer’s account aligned perfectly with the Red God’s known history, making it hard to dismiss as fabricated. If he wasn’t lying, what reason could R’hllor have for ignoring him for so long?

Aegor wasn’t about to fully trust Bran’s version of events, though. While the greenseer might not be lying outright, it was clear he wasn’t telling the whole truth. From certain details, it was evident that Bran’s existence predated R’hllor’s arrival in this world. That meant he had lived under the Cold God’s reign before the dragon’s intervention. If the Cold God had been a cruel ruler, wasn’t it likely that Bran had served him? Could he have been a tool, a “seer,” who turned traitor when the true dragon appeared, toppling his former master to secure a place in the new order?

Aegor’s suspicions deepened. Perhaps R’hllor simply despised Bran and deliberately left him to rot in his icy purgatory, ensuring both he and the Cold God remained trapped. Or…perhaps she simply forgot about him. With her power, who would dare demand explanations?

Either way, Aegor quickly discerned Bran’s true intent. The greenseer, after millennia of guarding the Cold God, wanted out. Afraid to abandon his post without permission, he sought to use Aegor’s authority as R’hllor’s chosen to relieve him of his duties. If Aegor accepted his help, it would implicitly release him from his responsibilities. If R’hllor ever returned to reprimand him, Bran could shift the blame to Aegor.

…