Chapter 250

Warner Buckwell led over two hundred soldiers to Long Night Fort, with the Flint clan contributing several hundred more warriors to support the operation. With ample manpower, the mission proceeded smoothly.

Aegor deliberately avoided asking for a detailed report on how the “culprit” was captured in the New Gift settler village. He didn’t need to know the blood-soaked details. Predictably, the operation met resistance from the villagers, but the result was inevitable. One side was a disciplined force of fully armed soldiers; the other, a group of poorly equipped peasants. With even half the decisiveness Buckwell had shown during the assault on the Red Keep, the unrest was swiftly crushed.

The original wildlings lived in tight-knit tribal units, with bonds like those of an extended family. Such cohesion was born out of the harsh conditions beyond the Wall, but their unity did not extend between tribes. Contrary to the Night’s Watch’s initial fears, the solidarity of the settlers as a collective group was much weaker.

After the bloody crackdown and subsequent punishments, the small Tull tribe—numbering no more than three hundred—ceased to exist. All its adult males were killed, while the women and children were forcibly distributed among dozens of other tribes. The name of the Tull tribe was wiped from the earth. Yet, other settler villages remained indifferent. Some of those Jon and the two wildling women had visited even sent representatives to attend Jeor Mormont’s funeral at Castle Black, publicly supporting the Watch’s handling of the Tull tribe.
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When the so-called "real culprit" was brought before the Night’s Watch officers, he was already unrecognizable, his body battered beyond belief. Even Aegor and the other officers, who were hardened by years of violence, couldn’t help but wince at the sight.

Without much deliberation, they sentenced the man to death for violating New Gift laws and guest rights. The execution was swift, and his body was hung at the gates of Castle Black as a stark warning to other settlers.

Justice and truth? In the grand scheme of things, such ideals were nothing more than empty notions.
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For Aegor, who had only encountered such brutal methods of suppression in games and films before his transmigration, seeing it play out in reality was sobering. Yet in this backward world, such primitive and barbaric methods were often the simplest and most effective way to send a message. No amount of legal education or public announcements could achieve the same result as a corpse dangling from the gallows.

Warner Buckwell had originally proposed something even more extreme: hanging every villager killed in the crackdown along the King’s Road from the Wall to Crown’s End, spacing the bodies a few miles apart to ensure every settler saw the consequences of rebellion. Aegor, however, vetoed the idea. Such an act, he reasoned, would be excessively hostile and do more harm than good to long-term stability.

“The culprit has been punished,” Aegor said in a subsequent meeting, “but before the election for the next Lord Commander begins, I’d like to propose an addition to the New Gift laws: the establishment of a strict collective punishment system. If one person commits a crime, their family, friends, and neighbors will face consequences as well. This would encourage mutual supervision among the settlers, significantly reducing enforcement costs.”

“That’s an interesting proposal,” said Denys Mallister, commander of the Shadow Tower, with a faint smile. “But Bowden Marsh, Cotter Pyke, and I have reached a different conclusion—we believe it’s time to terminate the resettlement plan entirely.”

Aegor’s heart sank, though he kept his expression calm. “Oh? And what do you propose to do with the settlers who’ve already crossed the Wall, Ser Mallister?”

“Send them back north of the Wall,” Mallister replied matter-of-factly. “Of course, they won’t go willingly, but there are other options. Haven’t you already secured loans from the Iron Bank to procure grain? When Braavosi ships deliver the food, they leave empty. Let the settlers board those ships and find a new life across the Narrow Sea.”

“A new life?” Aegor laughed coldly. “We all know what lies across the Narrow Sea. For these settlers, there’s no path but slavery. That’s tantamount to selling slaves, is it not? Jeor Mormont’s son, Jorah Mormont, was sentenced to death for that very crime by Eddard Stark.”

“We wouldn’t be taking money, so how is it slavery?” Bowden Marsh interjected with an uncharacteristically smug look. “And besides, slavery is better than being killed and raised by the Others. If they’re lucky, their masters might even treat them better than the Watch treats its recruits.”
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The sheer absurdity of their argument made Aegor grit his teeth. This was the kind of rhetorical trick he often used, but now it was being turned against him.

Fortunately, Aegor had one final card to play. “I understand your reasoning,” he said, his tone measured. “But let me ask you this—have you already decided on a candidate for the next Lord Commander?”

“No, we haven’t,” Mallister admitted. “But no matter who wins, we’ll ensure the resettlement plan is terminated.”

“‘No matter who wins’? Then you haven’t reached an agreement.” Aegor clenched his fist, his voice firm. “I’m sorry, gentlemen, but as the head of the resettlement plan, I answer only to the Lord Commander. Until a new one is elected, I will continue to carry out Jeor Mormont’s orders.”

This trump card silenced the room. While rigid adherence to rules often complicated matters in practice, there was little anyone could say to a man who insisted on following them to the letter. Aegor was playing the part of an immovable bureaucrat, and no one could fault him for it.
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“Well then,” Mallister said with a forced smile, glancing at Cotter Pyke. “It seems we’ll have to elect a new Lord Commander as quickly as possible.”

“Agreed,” Pyke replied, meeting his old rival’s gaze head-on.
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Among the senior officers of the Watch, Cotter Pyke, Bowden Marsh, and Denys Mallister were the obvious candidates for Lord Commander. All three had run against Jeor Mormont in the previous election, and it was almost certain that one of them would win this time.

Initially, the three had been wary of Aegor, fearing he might emerge as a dark horse candidate. To prevent this, Cotter Pyke had even brought his allies from Eastwatch to Castle Black. But now, with Aegor publicly declaring he wouldn’t run and swiftly executing the murderer of Mormont, he had quelled much of the unrest within the Watch.

With no personal grudges against him, Pyke and Mallister saw little reason to target Aegor further.
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As Aegor left the meeting room, he wiped the cold sweat from his brow. Samwell Tarly’s advice had inadvertently saved him from a disaster. Had he foolishly entered the race, he would have faced overwhelming opposition from the three senior commanders.

Instead, Aegor had managed to shift their focus onto each other, buying himself more time to implement his plans.

But this was only a temporary reprieve. As winter tightened its grip and his dream of building a miniature kingdom progressed, the Gift would need a leader—a figure of undeniable authority.

If Aegor was to become that leader, he would need more than clever words and political maneuvering. He would need action.

Once again, Aegor felt the relentless whip of fate driving him forward. And for the sake of everything he had gambled and risked, he had no choice but to run faster.