Chapter 474

Every soldier under the command of the Night’s Watch and every resident within the Gift was tirelessly working toward post-war reconstruction and preparing for the upcoming expedition Beyond the Wall. But if one had to rank the "level of busyness" among the thirty thousand survivors in the Gift, including the Wall, then excluding the select few in New Crown Town quietly plotting the conquest of the Seven Kingdoms, there was no doubt: Cotter Pyke would take second place, and no one would dare claim the first.

The reason was simple—Eastwatch was utterly unique.

As one of the last three remaining strongholds of the Night’s Watch before their expansion, Eastwatch retained a tunnel that led Beyond the Wall. Though it had been hastily blocked with debris and flooded on orders from the high command during the White Walker invasion, it hadn’t been sealed for long. Reopening it was far easier than carving a new tunnel through the Wall’s icy mass.

Thus, unlike most other outposts, which only had to stockpile provisions, weapons, and organize drills for the next large-scale military action, Cotter Pyke also had to oversee the digging of this tunnel.

If that were all, he could still count on Castle Black and the Shadow Tower to share the burden. But, unfortunately, anyone who thought this missed one critical point: Eastwatch was the only stronghold along the Wall to survive a White Walker siege, though at a staggering cost in lives.

Castle Black, positioned in the middle of the Wall, was spared from the horde of wights entirely. The Shadow Tower fell within an hour, with all its dead raised by the Walkers’ dark magic and sent toward New Crown Town—dumping most of the cleanup work onto the Gift’s capital. Now, the so-called "filler migrants" digging tunnels in the Shadow Tower needed only to work, free from other distractions.

Eastwatch, however, was different. This fortress, which had miraculously held its ground against a two-pronged White Walker assault, bore the added burden of burning the bodies of its fallen, treating the wounded, and comforting the bereaved. Despite reinforcements arriving, the manpower shortage remained unresolved.

And yet, there was one problem that no other stronghold could possibly face.

On that fateful night when the White Walkers launched their simultaneous attacks, the freezing gale from the Lands of Always Winter froze the waters of the Bay of Seals solid. While the unnatural ice was forged by supernatural forces, it was, by all appearances, perfectly mundane: ordinary seawater frozen into solid sheets, slightly less dense but extraordinarily durable. Though the White Walker invasion had been repelled, the ice covering the bay stretched for over ten miles, and it wouldn’t thaw until the summer heat arrived. This left Eastwatch in an unsettlingly vulnerable position: if the White Walkers regrouped Beyond the Wall, they could simply march eastward along the Wall to the frozen bay and cross into the Gift unimpeded.

This was, of course, unacceptable.

Thus, even as the war transitioned from defense to offense, the nearly disbanded “Bay of Seals Ice Removal Squad” had to be not only reassembled but expanded.

To make matters worse, Cotter Pyke had recently executed one of these ice removal workers—a man who had attacked his superior officer and deserted on the night of the invasion. While the man undoubtedly deserved his fate, carrying out such an act under these circumstances left a bitter taste in everyone’s mouths.

…

That morning, Cotter Pyke oversaw the interment of the fallen’s ashes, inspected preparations for the expedition Beyond the Wall, and symbolically participated in the tunnel excavation before lunch. In the afternoon, he endured a frustratingly slow progress report from the ice removal squad and gauged his soldiers’ sentiments regarding the hanging of the deserter Zit. Exhausted both physically and mentally, he was just considering a brief rest when news came that a ship from White Harbor had docked—not at the port, which was still frozen, but on the solid ice of the bay. A small group disembarked, led by a self-proclaimed envoy of House Manderly, claiming to bear urgent secret news from the North.

Cotter, forcing himself to rally, ordered the ship and its crew requisitioned for ice removal duties before receiving the visitors. What they had to say shocked him to his core: Robb Stark, Warden of the North, had decided to overthrow the current Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, to put an end to Aegor’s leadership of the Gift’s forces and his alliance with Queen Daenerys in her bid for the Iron Throne. Moreover, the envoy urged Cotter Pyke to act as an insider for the North, rallying support within the Watch and preparing to coordinate with a northern intervention against the Wall.

The gravity of this revelation jolted Cotter fully awake. He set aside all other matters and spent the rest of the day in tense discussions with the White Harbor envoy. By the time the sun had set, their secretive meeting finally came to an end.

The envoy was escorted to guest accommodations within the stronghold, while Cotter sat in his office, sharing a late dinner with his trusted lieutenant as they mulled over the bombshell news.

“My lord, what’s there to hesitate about? The Night’s Watch has had nearly a thousand Lord Commanders, but how many who tried to lead troops south ever succeeded? And when has the Stark family ever failed to decide who sits in that chair?” said Ean Irmet, Eastwatch’s chief ranger, leaving his untouched food to make his case. “Robb Stark chose to approach you. If this works out, you’re guaranteed to be the next Lord Commander!”

“If old Denis Mallister hadn’t died in battle, or if Bowan Marsh or Othell Yarwyck weren’t so useless, or if the Young Wolf’s bastard brother Jon Snow wasn’t so blindly loyal to Aegor, do you think the Starks would even consider a crude Ironborn like me?” Cotter Pyke retorted, dragging his plate closer and glaring at his lieutenant before digging into his food. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re scheming. You’re hoping I’ll take the Lord Commander’s seat so you can take over Eastwatch, aren’t you?”

Ean awkwardly pursed his lips, offering no defense.

Thanks to his exploits during the war—particularly shooting down two White Walkers with the help of a Red Priest—Ean’s status and reputation had soared. He was now a hero, second only to Cotter in authority at Eastwatch. But with Cotter still in his prime and healthy as a bull, Ean had little chance of advancing unless his superior was promoted or removed.

While Ean’s ambition was apparent, Cotter had no intention of playing along. Stabbing a piece of bacon with his fork, he gestured at his own temple with it as he chewed. “Use your head! Aegor, that damn fox—when he returned to New Crown Town after the war, what’s the first thing he did? He ordered every stronghold along the Wall to prohibit any personnel from leaving without orders. Why? He insists on unarmed audiences, sleeps with guards posted, and probably takes a dozen men with him just to take a piss. Why?”

“To guard against us! Against his ‘brothers of the Watch!’” Cotter spat, slamming his fork down. “He knew the Starks might try this, and now they have. A man who’s already anticipated every move his enemies could make, and you think I can just agree to Stark’s plan and wait for them to hand me the Lord Commander’s seat?”

…

Despite his frustration, Ean dared not argue further. Instead, he sat in silence, pondering how to salvage the situation. After a long pause, he finally spoke. “My lord, if you believe the Starks cannot best Aegor, then shouldn’t you act quickly to secure his favor instead of pretending nothing happened?”

Cotter raised a brow. “What are you getting at?”

“Expose the Manderly envoy’s plot to Aegor,” Ean suggested, a hint of excitement in his voice. “But don’t just hand him over. Pretend to agree with the Starks, secretly report everything to Aegor, and let him crush them. When he does, who do you think he’ll favor as his successor when he leaves to serve the Queen in King’s Landing?”

Cotter’s eyes lit up. Now that was a plan.

Before they could discuss the details, a loud knock interrupted them. A gruff soldier’s voice called from outside. “Lord Pyke! A bunch of ships just pulled up outside the ice—flying the red dragon banner. They’ve unloaded a group of eunuch soldiers, and there’s a bald fat man and a shifty-looking skinny one who say they’re the Queen’s Hand and spymaster! What should we do?”

…