Chapter 301

Cotter Pyke opened his eyes.

The sky outside was still dim. Through the glass and curtains, the room remained cloaked in darkness. The faint light was far from enough to wake someone naturally. Even considering the weather, it was surely still early.

He blinked in confusion. Why was he awake?

The Eastwatch delegation had come to Castle Black to participate in the election. Their task was simply to garner votes and gather intelligence on their opponents—there was no need for them to rise with the local soldiers for roll call, training, or defensive patrols. Physically speaking, this election felt more like a paid vacation, a publicly funded trip, with nobody minding if they slept till noon.

Sure, the setbacks and frustrations he’d faced lately weighed on him, but Cotter was a hardened warrior. Was he the type to lose sleep over a few setbacks? Nonsense.

Lying in bed for a few moments, he quickly realized this was not a natural awakening.

Someone outside was shouting. The muffled words were unclear through the walls, but the urgency in their tone needed no translation.

What had happened?

…

As if answering his question, a horn sounded.

Its tone was different from the horns at Eastwatch—likely due to differences in the instrument or technique—but the effect was identical. The deep, resonant blast pierced through everything, shaking him awake and chilling his soul. Even the heaviest sleeper would have been roused. Ordinarily, upon hearing the first blast, most would lie still, waiting. If a second sounded, they would then respond per training protocols. But the tunnels through the Wall had long been sealed, and patrols beyond the Wall had ceased.

This could not be a signal of rangers returning.

Sleep fled him entirely. Cotter Pyke sprang out of bed, snatched his coat from the rack, and threw it over his shoulders. Years of service in the Night’s Watch had made this process instinctive and efficient. By the time the second blast rang out, he was already armed and stepping into the hallway.

The rest of Castle Black was not far behind. In moments, the fortress roared to life. Shouts of commands, hurried footsteps, and the clanging of weapons filled the air, shattering the earlier silence and replacing it with an atmosphere of tense urgency.

Thankfully, the horn blasts were not coming from atop the Wall, and there had been no dreaded third blast.

Cotter grabbed a passing guard, who was rushing across the yard. The man was fully equipped, clearly on duty. “Hey! What’s going on?”

“Outside the fortress—there’s suddenly a mass of people! Hundreds of them, at least. Unidentified, possibly wildlings!” The Watchman broke free of Cotter’s grip. “Sorry, ser, but I have to inform the officers—we’re opening the armory!”

The guard dashed off toward the officers’ tower, leaving Cotter more puzzled than ever.

A wildling rebellion? Wasn’t this exactly what he had planned to orchestrate in order to discredit Aegor? But the King-Beyond-the-Wall had already been transferred to Crown's Rest. How could the wildlings still be causing trouble? Unless… something had gone wrong during Mance’s transport. Could he have escaped, gathered his forces, and returned to seek revenge?

A group of wildlings led by a determined leader was far more dangerous than a scattered mob.

Cotter couldn’t decide whether this was good news or bad. But one thing was certain: the enemy could not be allowed to breach Castle Black. Otherwise, his own life would be forfeit.

The officers of Castle Black, of course, were not slower to respond than visiting guests. By the time the Eastwatch contingent had armed themselves and reached the battlements—dwarfed in comparison to the Wall itself—the senior commanders had also arrived.

…

“Have we identified them yet?”

“No, ser,” a guard replied, shaking his head. “They could be Ironborn retaliating for our interference, or a large band of wildling raiders. But they don’t quite look like wildlings—they’re too organized.”

Indeed, under the snowy, dim sky, the mysterious force outside was starkly visible against the white expanse. Dressed in dark clothing, they had gathered along both sides of the Kingsroad, seemingly assembling after a march. Soon, they began to move again, spreading out into an orderly semicircle that encircled Castle Black, their disciplined movements belying their training.

Othell Yarwyck frowned. “This… looks like a siege.”

Everyone could see it. The First Ranger scowled. “Prepare for an attack. Arm everyone except those in the kitchens. Cooks, work faster and get breakfast to the defenses. If they attack, I won’t have my men fighting on empty stomachs.”

“Yes, ser!”

Bowen Marsh peered out at the gathering forces, trying to estimate their numbers. Against the snowy backdrop, the dark shapes were easy to count. He soon exhaled in relief. “Less than a thousand. Even with half our men old or infirm, the walls should give us the advantage. As long as we stay put, we can hold.”

For once, Bowen felt gratitude for Lord Commander Mormont’s decision to build walls around Castle Black. But he kept his relief to himself. “The enemy is few, but trained. Do not underestimate them! Send ravens to nearby keeps for reinforcements. Othell, gather all defensive supplies—oil, wildfire, whatever we have. And reposition the ballistae from the northern side of the Wall to the southern side.”

“Understood.” The Chief Builder nodded without hesitation and hurried off.

After issuing orders, Bowen turned to Cotter. “Lord Pyke, if it comes to fighting, I trust you and your Eastwatch men will assist in defending the gate.”

“Hmph. I don’t need you telling me where to go. Focus on figuring out who they are and what they want!”

…

Castle Black’s defenders worked efficiently, despite their unease at the low, unimposing walls compared to the grandeur of the Wall itself. Yet as preparations progressed, the mysterious army made no moves to advance. Instead, they maintained their encirclement, staying a bowshot away, in a disciplined, watchful formation.

Just as the brothers began debating whether to send out scouts, a sharp-eyed soldier shouted. From the enemy ranks, a lone figure emerged, walking toward Castle Black’s gates.

All eyes turned to the approaching figure. As they drew closer, the Watchmen on the walls recognized the black-clad figure. Many even knew him.

It was Yarm, the mayor of Crown's Rest.

…

“Lords!” Yarm stopped below the walls, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. “Under orders from Lord Stark of Winterfell and Chief Logistics Officer Aegor West, I’ve brought men to investigate an attempt to assassinate the surrendered King-Beyond-the-Wall. Per Lord Stark’s instructions, no one is to leave until he arrives to conduct his own investigation. I apologize for any disturbance!”

Cotter leaned over the wall, gripping the stone. “What nonsense is this? Robb Stark wouldn’t issue such an order! Even if he did, he has no authority over the Night’s Watch!”

“I cannot speak to Lord Stark’s authority,” Yarm replied calmly. “But I serve the Watch’s holdings and follow the orders of my superiors. My duty demands cooperation.”

With that, Yarm bowed slightly, turned, and walked back to the encircling force without waiting for a reply.

…