Chapter 466

Due to the sudden decision to pursue the undead southward after the Battle of Hearthguard, the army didn’t have time to make the meticulous preparations that Aegor typically demanded during his absences. This lack of organization resulted in a pileup of letters from across the Gift, left unattended in Hearthguard instead of being forwarded to Aegor in the field. It was this backlog of unanswered correspondence—combined with Jaime’s growing frustration—that eventually led the Kingslayer to abandon his post at Ice Bay Port and storm back to Hearthguard in anger.

After toying briefly with the lion plush gifted to him by a certain princess, Aegor tucked it into his coat pocket and returned to his private office to tackle the mountain of letters that had accumulated during his absence.

Overall, there was nothing new under the sun. Most of the correspondence consisted of routine matters, including an increasingly irate series of inquiries from Jaime. Others detailed reconnaissance reports from Ice Bay Port and Castle Black, documenting investigations of the lost fortresses and final casualty reports along the Wall.

As grim as the war against the White Walkers had been, the final casualty figures for the Gift were slightly better than Aegor had anticipated. Thanks to the Shadow Tower and other western strongholds evacuating their non-combatants in time, the total number of deaths and incapacitating injuries had barely remained under ten thousand. The population loss across the Gift fell just short of a quarter.

"Less than a quarter" might sound like a modest figure, but when considering that most of the casualties were men aged 15 to 40—the backbone of the population—describing the losses as "severe" was no exaggeration. The only solace lay in the nature of the enemy: the vast majority of the dead were gone entirely, with relatively few left maimed or disabled. This spared the Gift the lingering societal burden of widespread treatment and care for survivors, unlike the aftermath of wars between humans.

Despite the sheer volume of letters, most contained routine issues for which Humphrey Hill, the Gift’s steward, had already suggested standard solutions. Aegor needed only to sign off or make occasional adjustments.

However, one letter from Eastwatch-by-the-Sea caught Aegor’s particular attention.

He had initially believed that Yohn Royce had died in an accident during the freezing storms that hit Seal Bay—capsizing ships and encasing the coastline in thick ice. The survivors who made it back to Eastwatch insisted this was the case, and the Night’s Watch had been prepared to accept it as fact. Yet recent discoveries painted a very different picture.

The undead army that had bypassed Castle Black to strike Eastwatch was in such haste to execute the Night King’s flanking maneuver that it hadn’t stopped to scour the ice-locked ships along the coast. Instead, they had moved on, leaving survivors trapped aboard the frozen vessels untouched.

With the Seal Bay ice still over a meter thick and showing no signs of thawing even after the war, Eastwatch scouts discovered something shocking during post-war patrols. Just a few miles from the Wall’s eastern end, several crew members from the stranded ships were found alive—dehydrated and starving, but alive.

The truth, however, was ugly: Yohn Royce, presumed dead, had not fallen to the enemy but had been betrayed by his own men. He had been struck down from behind by a cowardly subordinate during the chaos, left to die as the others fled to save themselves.

Cottor Pyke’s report laid out the grim findings in full detail, along with the arrests of the surviving perpetrators. He requested Aegor’s guidance on how to proceed.

Aegor’s lips pressed into a thin line. Betrayal within the Night’s Watch was not unprecedented, but a mutiny resulting in the death of a commanding officer—especially one as notable as Yohn Royce—was a rare and egregious offense. The culprits would undoubtedly face execution; the only question was how the incident would be handled publicly.

If the victim had been anyone else, the resolution would have been simple: a public trial followed by an equally public execution, serving as a warning to others. But Yohn Royce was no ordinary victim. As a former lord of Runestone and scion of an ancient house, his family still held significant influence in the Vale. What would his sons think when they learned their father had been killed by a coward’s strike? Would they accuse Aegor of orchestrating the betrayal? Would they view the executions as a cover-up?

Aegor mulled over the situation with mounting frustration before ultimately dismissing the matter from his mind. The Royce family was but a small piece in his grander schemes, a minor faction at best. Even if reconciliation proved impossible, it wouldn’t matter. In the face of dragons and cannonfire, old houses like the Royces were little more than ants before a cartwheel. If necessary, Aegor could simply crush them underfoot and avoid the Vale altogether.

He penned his response to Cottor Pyke, instructing him to handle the matter discreetly. The trial and executions would take place within Eastwatch alone, and the official story would remain unchanged: Yohn Royce had died a hero, fighting the undead. To placate the Royce family, emissaries would quietly inform them of the truth, trusting that they would prefer their father’s reputation as a valiant warrior over the indignity of a mutinous demise.
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One letter after another, the pile steadily diminished under Aegor’s focused efforts. After three or four hours of work, he finally set down his pen, rubbing his tired eyes. Before diving into the next round of tasks—organizing the Gift’s operations and preparing for the southern campaign—he decided to take a short mental break.

Raising his voice, he called to the guard stationed outside. “Fetch Asha Greyjoy. I’ll see her now.”
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Asha Greyjoy, the Kraken’s daughter, had been an unruly prisoner since her capture. After attempting to seduce her guards for information on Aegor’s return schedule, she had tried to ambush him upon his arrival in Hearthguard, only to face an unyielding wall. Her request to join the Night’s Watch had been denied outright, and the guards she manipulated were punished and replaced with women, rendering her earlier efforts futile. Humbled by the experience, Asha had since adopted a more cooperative attitude, formally requesting audiences through proper channels.

Aegor couldn’t help but find her newfound behavior amusing. It was harder to refuse someone so “well-behaved,” especially given the circumstances: her brother Theon had distinguished himself in the Long Lake battle by killing the second White Walker lieutenant, earning posthumous recognition as a hero. As his closest kin, Asha’s status as a “martyr’s family member” warranted some leniency.

The guards escorted her in shortly after. Gone were the chains that once bound her; she now wore her own tight leather outfit, replacing the plain cotton clothing provided by the Gift. Though her figure remained striking, her spirit was what stood out most to Aegor. Even after months of imprisonment, her bright eyes and defiant expression had not dimmed.

“Lord Commander,” she greeted him, her voice calm and measured.

Aegor raised an eyebrow, amused. “You’ve changed your tone. What happened to calling me by my full name, Aegor West?”

Asha smirked but didn’t reply, prompting Aegor to wave her toward a chair. “No matter. You’re free now, in case it wasn’t clear.”

Her eyes widened slightly, though she quickly masked her surprise. “Free?”

“Free,” Aegor confirmed. “But don’t get any ideas. This is my decision as your custodian, not the Starks’. Your brother’s sacrifice earned you this freedom, and as his closest kin, the dragonsteel arrow he won at Hearthguard’s archery contest now belongs to you.”

Asha hesitated before sitting, her long legs crossing in a gesture of reclaimed confidence. “And what now? Am I to leave the Gift?”

“You’re free to leave Hearthguard, but what you do beyond these walls is up to you. If you wish to settle in the Gift, you’re welcome to stay. If not, you can take the arrow and sell it for gold—though I’d suggest starting with a modest sum and claiming the remainder later to avoid devaluing it.”

Asha snorted. “Generous, aren’t we? But I didn’t come here to beg for favors. I came to discuss something serious. Have you given any thought to the future of the Iron Islands?”

Aegor’s interest piqued. “The Iron Islands? Go on…”