Chapter 209

As the towering silhouette of Winterfell came into view, Aegor let out a long breath of relief. Finally, they had arrived.

The journey to return the “little she-wolf” home had been unusually smooth—at least for most of the group. They encountered no hostile lords blocking their way, no wildlings migrating south to escape the cold, no coastal pirates or brigands causing trouble, and not even a single day of bad weather. In under ten days, they had completed the trek from the Neck to Winterfell.

As the leader of the convoy, Aegor enjoyed all the privileges of command: riding a horse or traveling by cart during the march, and avoiding night watches. In theory, he had the most comfortable role in the group. In reality, however, the presence of Arya Stark turned him into the most exhausted member of the party. For the first two nights, Arya demanded he rub her stomach to help her sleep. When the pain woke her in the middle of the night, she unhesitatingly woke him up to continue. Even when her pain subsided on the third day, she still insisted on climbing into his bedroll, claiming it was “warmer.”

After several nights of this routine, Aegor was not only sleep-deprived but also sore all over from awkward sleeping positions. He swore he could still detect a faint metallic scent of blood clinging to his clothes.

Troublesome as she was, today marked the end of his ordeal. Once he handed Arya over to her mother, he would finally be free from this nightmare.

...

As they approached the town surrounding Winterfell, the changes were apparent. With winter approaching, the once quiet settlement had become far busier compared to Aegor’s previous visits. Hill clans, freed from the burden of farming, had already arrived with their belongings, claiming the sturdiest stone houses to wait out the cold.

Winterfell was Arya’s home, and there were plenty of people who might recognize her. To avoid unnecessary attention, Aegor had her wear a hood to conceal her face. Returning a Stark girl to her family might be a noble deed in the North, but it broke the Night’s Watch’s vow of neutrality—something best kept quiet given how much of their operations depended on the South.

The convoy neared Winterfell’s gates, where the bustling streets grew even livelier. Stark guards in grey cloaks were running about, shouting orders, seemingly preparing for something urgent.

A familiar figure approached from the other direction, giving Aegor the chance to satisfy his curiosity. “Ser Rodrik!” Aegor called out.

“Ah, a brother of the Night’s Watch? Good afternoon,” Ser Rodrik Cassel replied, though his tone was puzzled as he studied the convoy. “Winterfell welcomes you, though I must admit we’re short-staffed. Lord Stark and Robb took most of our men south, and even the household servants are few. I’m afraid we won’t be able to accommodate so many guests.”

“No matter,” Aegor replied. “We’ll rest in the winter town for the night and continue north tomorrow.” With the convoy containing dozens of Westerland soldiers in disguise, he had no intention of risking their entry into Winterfell’s defenseless halls. “What’s going on here? Why all the commotion?”

“Ah, it’s that damned bastard of Roose Bolton,” Ser Rodrik growled, his frustration evident. “The boy stormed Hornwood Castle, forced Lady Hornwood into marriage, and seized the castle for himself. White Harbor also covets the Hornwood lands and has sent knights north. Now Manderly’s forces and the Bolton troops are fighting in the Hornwood forest, steel against steel. Disgraceful behavior—it’s as though they’ve forgotten their liege lord. On Lord Stark’s orders, I’m raising a force to put an end to this madness, but with Robb taking nearly all our men south, I’ve been forced to conscript from the winter town. The boy’s a madman.”

...

Aegor had already heard rumors about the Hornwood conflict from Robb’s soldiers. The story could be summed up in a single phrase: a bloody feud over inheritance.

The last male heir of House Hornwood had died without leaving children, and no clear successor could be identified. This had stirred up ambitions among neighbors and distant relatives, with the nearby Dreadfort and White Harbor being the most aggressive contenders.

With winter fast approaching, and wildlings and White Walkers threatening the realm, it was mind-boggling to Aegor that the Northern houses would engage in such petty infighting. It was a brutal reminder of the feudal system’s chaos and the vital importance of clear inheritance in this savage world.

(Ramsay Snow, Roose Bolton’s bastard—of course, it’s him.) Aegor grimaced. Even though the story had deviated so much from the original timeline, the same villains seemed destined to emerge. Was it simply their nature, or was something else at work?

“A madman indeed,” Aegor agreed. “And madmen are better off dead.” An idea formed in his mind. “Ser Rodrik, as the Night’s Watch recruitment officer, I must state for the record that the Wall does not need people like him. The last thing we want is to watch our backs at night.”

“Don’t worry. Even if you hadn’t said it, I have no intention of letting him live,” Rodrik replied. He glanced briefly at Arya, who was sitting quietly on a horse beside Aegor, her hood pulled low. Not recognizing her after a year apart, he quickly looked away. “Chief Logistician, you seem to have quite a few Northern soldiers in your convoy?”

“Indeed,” Aegor confirmed. “Robb assigned them to ensure Jaime Lannister’s safe delivery to the Wall. They’ll remain under my command until the threat of wildlings and White Walkers has passed.”

“In that case,” Rodrik said hesitantly, “might I borrow some of them for this campaign? Once we’ve dealt with the Bolton bastard and retaken Hornwood, I’ll have them return to report to you.”

Aegor considered this for a moment. Northern soldiers were being asked to handle Northern affairs, and he had little reason to refuse. Besides, feeding and housing these men was costly, and reducing that burden was an appealing prospect. “Very well, Ser Rodrik. Pick the men you need. Once the matter is resolved, have them report to Crown Town.”

“Thank you. I was worried about sending untrained recruits without veterans to lead them.”

“It’s no trouble,” Aegor replied diplomatically. “The Night’s Watch and the North are family, after all.” He took the opportunity to excuse himself. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have business with Lady Stark. I’ll take my leave.”

...

Leaving most of the convoy in the winter town, Aegor brought Arya and a few trusted companions into Winterfell.

After formally meeting Catelyn Stark and delivering Arya to her, he advised her to keep the girl’s return quiet for now. With that task completed, one of Aegor’s major goals was finally achieved. Graciously accepting Lady Stark’s thanks and hospitality, Aegor wandered through Winterfell.

Compared to the intrigues and dangers of King’s Landing, the North was a welcome change. Here, nearly everyone within a hundred miles was either an ally, a subordinate, or a neutral bystander. The political landscape was clear, with no hidden threats or shadowy figures lurking around every corner. Breathing in the crisp Northern air, Aegor allowed himself a rare moment of relaxation.

But guilt gnawed at him. His newfound ease came at the cost of burdening Nina with the entirety of the Night’s Watch’s southern operations. She was the one making money, while he spent it. Could she handle it all?

Lost in thought, Aegor was startled when two slim figures appeared in the courtyard, walking directly toward him. One was a slender young woman with long brown hair tied behind her back, her flat chest and boyish frame reminiscent of Arya. Despite her plain appearance, there was an elegance to her movements. The other was a boy of about thirteen or fourteen, dressed entirely in green—even his boots were dyed the same unfortunate shade.

“Chief Logistician,” the young woman said as they approached, her green eyes locking onto Aegor’s with a friendly smile. “I am Meera Reed of Greywater Watch, and this is my brother, Jojen. He insisted on meeting you. It’s an honor to finally make your acquaintance.”

Aegor’s brief sense of peace evaporated instantly.