Chapter 229

“It’s not… a stomachache!” Arya wiped her tears and sniffled, her reddened eyes staring up at Aegor. “My father… he died in King’s Landing.”

Eddard Stark was dead? Aegor felt a wave of shock and regret. Ned had survived Stannis’s attack on King’s Landing, yet now he was gone. Beyond personal feelings, this was a devastating blow. As the head of House Stark, Ned’s presence—either as the Hand of the King in King’s Landing or the Warden of the North in Winterfell—had been a pillar of stability. For the Night’s Watch, he had been one of their most reliable allies. Even the Greyjoy rebellion was likely emboldened by the news of his death.

But despite this loss, Aegor couldn’t help but feel exasperated. I’m your swordsmanship teacher, not your confidant, he thought. Sure, losing your father is tragic, but why come to me for comfort? I’m barely keeping the Wall from falling apart with this grain shortage!

“I’m sorry for your loss, Arya,” he said softly, his frustration ebbing as he placed a hand on her head. “But the dead cannot return. No matter how much it hurts, you must keep living. Running off alone like this is far too dangerous.”

“I’m sorry… I know I shouldn’t have done it,” Arya murmured, her voice small. “But I… I was so upset. Sansa kept saying it was my fault. That I killed Father… that I’m the reason he’s dead. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I left.”

Siblings quarreling, and now the younger one runs away to me? What a mess. Aegor frowned. “Why would she say it was your fault?”

“Father… they say he was poisoned,” Arya said, her tears falling again. “They think it happened while he was being held by Renly and the Tyrells. Margaery replaced his caretakers with her own people… and that’s when it happened. Father was only there because he was looking for me. I thought Margaery was my friend… why would she do this to him?”

Aegor mulled this over, his mind racing. Poisoned while imprisoned… that makes sense. A man like Eddard Stark, with his own loyal men, wouldn’t be easy to kill under normal circumstances. But locked up and vulnerable? That’s a different story.

Still, the pieces didn’t add up. Aegor didn’t believe for a second that the Tyrells or Margaery were responsible. Poisoning Ned Stark would bring them nothing but enmity from House Stark and the entire North. No, this had all the markings of Varys’s work. Littlefinger was no longer in Westeros, and only someone with Varys’s cunning could orchestrate such a move. The realization was a chilling reminder to Aegor: never let yourself fall into anyone’s hands, no matter how harmless they may seem. When you’re powerless, even friends can turn into enemies.

“Listen, Arya,” he began carefully. “I don’t believe Margaery had anything to do with your father’s death. Think about it—what could the Tyrells possibly gain from killing him? All it would do is create an unending feud with the Starks.”

Arya hesitated, her brow furrowing. “But… if it wasn’t her, then who?”

“Someone who benefits from chaos,” Aegor said vaguely. “If Margaery is truly your friend, you owe it to her to at least let her explain. By the way, how exactly did you get here? Didn’t Winterfell send anyone after you?”

Arya shrugged. “I snuck away after lunch. They probably didn’t notice I was gone until nightfall. I’m light and fast on horseback. No one could catch me.”

“Oh, wonderful,” Aegor said sarcastically, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine, you can stay here for now. Tomorrow morning, I’ll arrange for someone to escort you back.”

“I’m not going back! I want to go to Castle Black. I want to see Jon!” Arya’s voice cracked as she spoke.

“Castle Black is overcrowded with all sorts of people. It’s no place for a little girl,” Aegor snapped, giving her a stern look. “You’ll stay here. I’ll let Jon know you’re here when I return to Castle Black. If he wants to see you, he’ll come.”

“Fine…” Arya muttered, subdued by her grief.

“Good. Now come eat. And when you see Lady Melisandre later, remember to thank her for bringing you here safely. Understood?”

“I don’t feel like eating,” Arya murmured.

“Well, too bad. You’re in the Night’s Watch’s territory now, and you’ll follow the Night’s Watch’s rules,” Aegor said firmly. “Or have you already forgotten the time you begged to stay in my bedroll, swearing you’d always listen to me?”

Arya pouted but reluctantly nodded, muttering her agreement.

...

Despite the ongoing food crisis, New Crown's Rest wasn’t yet at its breaking point. The kitchens managed to prepare a simple but decent meal for the arriving reinforcements. Alongside Melisandre came several followers of R’hllor, clad in robes adorned with the fiery heart sigil, as well as bannermen of King Stannis, including Ser Axell Florent.

To abandon opportunities for glory in Stannis’s southern campaigns and follow Melisandre north to fight wildlings and White Walkers spoke volumes about their devotion to the Lord of Light. While their character and motivations were debatable, their faith was unshakable.

Melisandre also brought a group of new “recruits” for the Night’s Watch—political prisoners. These included Westerlanders captured during Eddard Stark’s purge of Lannister loyalists in King’s Landing, as well as nobles arrested by Stannis after retaking the throne. Among them were former supporters of the Night’s Watch industry, whose wealth had once bolstered its operations.

Political prisoners were unwelcome in most places, but at the Wall, they were a godsend. Unlike common criminals, these individuals were educated and capable, making them ideal candidates for command and administrative roles. With seven new castles reopened and New Crown Town growing, the Night’s Watch desperately needed competent leaders.

...

At dinner, Aegor briefly outlined the Wall’s dire food shortages, appealing to Melisandre and her followers for assistance.

Ser Axell Florent shrugged apologetically. “King’s Landing is struggling with food shortages as well. His Grace has already executed two grain merchants to curb price gouging. I’m afraid there’s little we can do.”

Aegor nodded, turning to Melisandre. “And you, my lady? Do you have any suggestions?”

The red priestess wiped her mouth delicately with a napkin, her expression serene. “I am but a humble servant of the Lord of Light. I cannot conjure grain from thin air.” She paused, then added, “But while I may lack the power to solve this crisis, my god does not. For all your efforts to protect the Wall, the Lord of Light will not turn a blind eye. If you wish, I can look into the flames for guidance.”

Without waiting for a response, Melisandre rose from the table and approached the dining hall’s hearth. Lowering her crimson robes slightly, she knelt before the crackling fire, staring intently into the flames.

Aegor watched with a mix of skepticism and resignation. What now? Is R’hllor going to pull sacks of grain out of the fire? Arya, however, was wide-eyed with curiosity. Around the table, Melisandre’s followers fell silent, their faces filled with reverence. Some began whispering prayers, and the room grew eerily quiet.

After a few minutes, Melisandre stood, returning to the table with a small, confident smile. “The Lord of Light has answered my prayers. He has shown me a path forward. Would you like to hear it, Chief Logistics Officer?”