Chapter 249

Most of "his own people" had already pledged their loyalty and support—there was no need to win them over. Aegor only had to give the word, and they would follow. But there were exceptions.

His previous candid conversation with Jaime during a visit to the mountain clans had brought them closer, but the chief logistics officer had yet to fully pull the Kingslayer into his inner circle. And now, if he wanted to exploit the election rules through leverage, Aegor had to rally every possible ally into his camp.

Unfortunately, Jaime's response nearly made him spit blood.

"The men who followed me to the Wall were once my father’s retainers, yes. But now, they are men of the Night’s Watch. How they vote, whom they listen to, and whom they follow—that is for them to decide."

Aegor’s expression darkened.

"Oh, that’s rich—'their decision'? Jaime, when it comes to naïveté, I think you just won the prize." Aegor scoffed, temper flaring. "You say they have the right to decide what to do now, but tell me this—did they have the right to decide whether to come to the Wall in the first place?"

Jaime was momentarily stunned.

"Did Lord Tywin issue a call for volunteers after you took the black? Did he let them choose? I doubt it. Let me guess—he probably just ordered his men to handpick fifty elite soldiers, bought them off with gold… or coerced them through other means. In the end, it was simple: they had to come, whether they wanted to or not." Aegor fixed Jaime with an unwavering gaze. "You never even considered this, did you? You, the golden heir of House Lannister, born with a silver spoon in your mouth. To you, your parents were people. Your sister and brother were people. But the rest? They were nothing. And those fifty men who followed you to the Wall? In your mind, they weren’t even people—they were just numbers, weren’t they?"

"No… They… They are my sworn brothers now…" Jaime protested weakly.

"Your sworn brothers, your countrymen—how many of their names can you even remember? And do they consider it an honor to be your ‘sworn brothers’?"

Aegor pressed him relentlessly. A pampered noble like Jaime Lannister, who cared for nothing and no one, wouldn’t be swayed without harsh words. "I respect your desire to redeem yourself as a Night’s Watch brother, but have you ever considered the lives of those who came with you? Whatever your father did to persuade them, the reality is this: to keep you from being isolated and bullied here, fifty young men from the Westerlands gave up their lives. For your sake, they left their homes and came to this frozen wasteland, bound to a lifetime of celibacy and service. You came here to atone for your mistakes, but what about them? There are only forty-something left now. Have you ever grieved for the ones who died outside Castle Black? Have you ever considered the fate of the ones still breathing?"

"Enough. Just because you’re first logistics officer doesn’t mean you can lecture me." Jaime slammed a hand on the table, irritated but not furious—Aegor had cut deep, but he had avoided Jaime’s rawest wounds. Jaime was unsettled, not enraged. "Even if I told them to follow your orders, could you guarantee they’d get to take off the black?"

"I can guarantee it. The Night’s Watch will have a means of resignation in the future. Whether you take advantage of it or not is up to you," Aegor said, refusing to yield. He wasn’t about to let a few careless words cost him forty-something votes. "Even if you don’t believe me, you still have to tell them what I promised. By your own logic, they have the right to decide whether to trust me."

"Fine, fine. Seven hells, you’re annoying as shit." Jaime waved him off, exasperated. "I’ll have my men vote for you. Happy now?"

"Thank you." Aegor let out a breath, his expression relaxing into a smile. "But I don’t plan to enter the election right away. As for who they’ll vote for… I’ll send someone to let you know when the time comes."

"You’re not running? What’s your game?" Jaime frowned, then shrugged. "Never mind. I don’t care to know."

---

"He was once Lord of Bear Island, head of House Mormont. For honor and duty, he took the black. For ten years, he served faithfully, leading his brothers through countless trials and dangers…"

From the high platform, Maester Aemon’s solemn voice carried over the gathered men, reciting Jeor Mormont’s eulogy. A century old, blind, and frail, Aemon had thought the Old Bear would be the last Lord Commander he would serve. But Jeor, ever hale and strong, had met his end without warning. As the aged maester spoke, weakness clawed at his body, a reminder of the cruel passage of time.

Standing among the gathered crowd, Aegor watched the funeral pyre with a heavy heart.

Before his transmigration, like many ordinary people, he believed leaders should be approachable and down-to-earth. Security details and tight protocols often seemed like unnecessary pomp, a burden on the people.

But Jeor Mormont’s death had taught him a harsh lesson. The moment a man took command, his life was no longer his own—it belonged to the organization he led. If he was careless, if he let his guard down, then a single stray act—a stone thrown by a nameless hand—could throw the entire order into chaos. His death had left a mess for his followers to clean up.

For their sake, a leader had to survive.

With that in mind, Aegor remained surrounded by his closest men, flanked by Jon Snow’s group and Jaime’s retinue. He vowed then and there—that if necessary, he would live a lifetime of paranoia and vigilance. He would never give anyone the chance to cut him down.

---

"And now his watch has ended."

Aemon’s voice brought Aegor back to the present. The maester coughed, then was carefully led away from the podium.

A ranger stepped forward, torch in hand, setting the funeral pyre alight. Because Mormont had died away from Watch-held lands, his body had been wrapped tightly, lest it rise again. As the flames devoured the shrouded corpse, the men could finally breathe easy—at least now, their former leader would not return as an enemy.

The fire burned brighter, the shape of the Old Bear’s body fading into the inferno. Aegor watched in silence, waiting for the flames to recede so he could make his announcement.

But someone spoke first.

"That’s it?" Yohn Royce’s voice rang out. "We burn the Lord Commander’s body, and now we just move on to choosing a new one? And what of the bastard who brought the wildlings in? Shouldn’t he answer for this?"

Aegor grimaced. There was no avoiding it.

Damn, he missed Jeor. The Old Bear had known what a mess the lords of the Vale could make. He had sent the so-called "Leageu of Justice" packing to Eastwatch before Aegor even returned, ensuring his path had been smooth.

But now that Mormont was gone, Eastwatch’s commander had brought those same men back, under the guise of voting.

This was an attack. He had drawn too much attention.

Aegor sighed. Thankfully, as chief logistics officer, his position was second only to the acting Lord Commander. He wasn’t without power.

"Mormont’s ashes aren’t even cold, and you’re already turning this into a political spectacle, Lord Royce?" Aegor smiled coldly. "The Old Bear made his choice. He accepted my counsel and granted land to the free folk. And I’ll remind you—advice is not a crime. If you seek retribution, you’ll have to win the Lord Commander’s seat first."

Royce snorted but didn’t argue.

"I won’t be running for Lord Commander."

"How fortunate. Neither will I," Aegor replied smoothly. "Oh, and one more thing… 'wildlings' no longer exist. Mormont outlawed the term. You’re breaking Watch regulations."

"Fine. 'New Gift settlers' then," Cotter Pyke chuckled. "The same ‘settlers’ who brained the Old Bear with a rock."

"Not ‘settlers.’ One man. One killer. And he has already been caught." Aegor’s gaze swept the crowd. "If justice is what you want, we can hold the trial before the election begins."