Chapter 319

Aegor had many plans, but the foremost priority was clear: holding back the invasion of the White Walkers. Everything else hinged on that goal.

Melisandre had confirmed that she could sense the magic within the Wall—magic that Aegor surmised originated from the massive weirwoods growing at its base, their roots entwined with the ancient ice. This magic was what kept the White Walkers and their army of the dead at bay, preventing them from launching a full-scale assault. However, the magic, though vast and formidable, was spread across the Wall's massive length and height, its potency diluted by sheer scale. Worse, it was static—its strength remained constant, and the Night’s Watch had no idea how to manipulate or bolster it.

Meanwhile, the power of the White Walkers—the icy magic that permeated the world—continued to grow stronger as temperatures dropped. Melisandre warned that the Walkers were not only becoming more powerful themselves but also enhancing the undead they commanded. Eventually, the Wall’s protective magic would fail to suppress their advance.

The most unnerving aspect of all this was the uncertainty: no one knew when that day would come.
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Ranger patrols had long since ceased, but the Night's Watch now had wargs who could scout from the air using controlled animals. Upon taking office as Lord Commander, Aegor immediately summoned the wargs to the Wall to conduct aerial reconnaissance of the surrounding lands.

By the time Aegor had returned to Crown's Rest, the results of their scouting began trickling in from the various fortresses. The reports were consistent: even within a ten-mile radius of the Wall, no signs of the White Walkers or their undead army could be found.

Jon Royce’s daring mission beyond the Wall to deliver a letter two weeks earlier had been completed safely—not by chance, it seemed, but because the Walkers simply weren’t nearby. Either they were lying dormant beneath the snow or they were truly absent from the area.

But if they weren’t here, what were they waiting for? Or was it possible that they weren’t waiting at all, but instead planning something larger in some unseen place?
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The Wall separated the Seven Kingdoms from the Land of Always Winter, save for two notable vulnerabilities: a massive gorge to the west and the mouth of the Milkwater River where it emptied into the sea, splitting the Frostfang Mountains.

These “gaps” could not be ignored. Aegor ordered Shadow Tower to conduct intensive patrols along the southern side of the gorge—a task that required substantial manpower. Even as Crown's Rest bustled with construction and preparation, Aegor had to continuously devise ways to bolster the defenses of the Wall’s western end.

Yet his efforts were constantly disrupted by the endless troubles brought to his doorstep. Crown's Rest had seemingly become a magnet for misfits and complications, making it a hub of stress for the Lord Commander.
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First among these was Melisandre.

The Red Priestess and her followers had moved to Crown's Rest under the pretext of assisting the Lord Commander. Having such a powerful sorceress on his side was reassuring, but her constant preaching about the Long Night, prophecies, heroes born from boiling seas, and dragons hatched from stone quickly grew tiresome. Her habit of proselytizing among the dense population of Crown's Rest created minor but persistent disruptions for the logistics department. Worse, she had a knack for skirting the limits of Aegor's patience, playing just enough within his tolerance to avoid outright confrontation.
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Then there were Jaime and Cersei’s two “bastard sons.”

Due to the machinations of Westerosi politics, Robert’s “sons” had been forced to take the black to secure their survival. Tommen was obedient enough, but Joffrey was another matter entirely. Stripped of his princely status and reduced to a mere recruit of the Night’s Watch, Joffrey vented his endless frustrations on everyone and everything around him. Without Jaime’s presence, Aegor would have dealt with the brat swiftly and decisively. But with Jaime and his loyal retainers—and the shadow of Tywin Lannister—still important to his plans, Aegor had to tread carefully. It took a great deal of effort to devise a compromise that kept the boy in check without causing further trouble.
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Next came Theon Greyjoy.

This version of Theon had not yet committed the unspeakable atrocities that defined him in another timeline. Loyal to the Starks but bitter over his exile to the Wall, Theon simmered with resentment. Aegor spent considerable time placating him with promises and assigned him the role of archery instructor in Crown's Rest, giving him purpose and keeping him out of trouble.
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Yet the most exasperating of all was a certain stubborn girl who refused to leave.

The Gift’s burgeoning “capital” had become Arya Stark’s personal playground. Using snow-blocked roads as an excuse to stay, she darted about Crown's Rest with endless curiosity. One moment, she was covered in soot at the industrial zone, watching workers smelt copper; the next, she was in the training yard, sparring with wildling children and humiliating them with her superior skill. On another occasion, she announced plans to craft dragonglass weapons, only to leave the mess for someone else to clean up.

Aegor realized, with growing dread, that his once-formidable authority over Arya had eroded. No longer seeing him as a teacher or mentor, she now regarded him as little more than a close friend, using the term “master” as an affectionate nickname. Her tone varied—rapid, excited repetitions meant she had a new idea to share, while a slow, drawn-out “Maaassster” signaled boredom and a demand for entertainment.

On some occasions, she would call out to him simply to tease, offering no reason at all:
“Master, master!”
“What now?!”
“Nothing, just felt like calling you. Heh.”

Unable to scold or chase her away, Aegor found himself growing weary. His relief came unexpectedly in the form of an arriving caravan.
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A few weeks after securing his position as Lord Commander, Crown's Rest received a shipment of supplies and personnel from the Night’s Watch operations in King’s Landing. The caravan’s leader brought Aegor a rare moment of joy.

Hurrying to the unloading area, Aegor spotted a familiar figure among the crowd. A year had passed since he last saw her, and the young woman standing there seemed completely transformed. Clad in a stylish black coat that highlighted her slim figure, her face lightly made up and lips painted, the "Lady in Black" commanded the unloading operation with calm efficiency. She looked every bit the competent administrator of the Night’s Watch southern operations, utterly unfazed by her new surroundings.

Aegor smiled. It seemed that Crown's Rest had just gained a powerful ally—and perhaps a solution to one or two of his problems.