Chapter 295

The attitude of the northern lords towards the New Gift settlement plan was critical, but at least for today, Aegor did not need to be overly concerned. Long Night Castle was not part of the New Gift initiative; its reactivation had been decided before the wildling surrender and had the unanimous approval of the Night's Watch leadership.

The reason Aegor chose Long Night Castle as the first stop after leaving Castle Black wasn’t due to the number of former wildlings living there, or the potential threat they might pose to the North. Instead, it was for another reason entirely—Bran Stark had disappeared here. With Robb Stark’s own son not yet born, this meant that the first in line to inherit the North had vanished at this location.

The residents within Long Night Castle’s walls were members of the Flint clan of the mountains. Invited by the Night’s Watch to settle near the Wall, they technically remained vassals of the North. While their chieftain had no castle and little wealth, he held a rank equivalent to an earl in terms of hierarchy. The clan members, though neither farmers nor taxpayers, were still considered people of the North.

To Aegor, the mountain clans were a vital patch for filling the manpower gaps along the Wall and a source of cheap labor for the New Gift’s development. To the Night’s Watch, they were much-needed reinforcements, instrumental in intimidating the wildlings into surrender, and reliable allies against the coming inhuman foes. To the North, they were nominal vassals, often overlooked but now proving invaluable by voluntarily moving to the Wall to aid its defense.

Given their unique status, the mountain clans faced little hostility. Even the staunchest conservatives in the Night’s Watch did not consider targeting them to embarrass the reformists. Moreover, Aegor had already informed Long Night Castle to prepare for the Northern inspection. Even if something went wrong, Robb Stark would not hold it against these mountain folk or sour on the settlement plan because of them.
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When people without frequent contact and no real grudges meet, courtesy is paramount. At the moment, the Flint chieftain was warmly conversing with Robb Stark, expressing his respect for their honored guest, his condolences for the late Eddard Stark, and an update on the restored fortress’s current state.

The pleasantries didn’t last long. Once the formalities with Torganhen Flint concluded, Robb’s demeanor grew serious as he asked about the matter weighing most heavily on his mind: the disappearance of his brother Bran.
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“The Night’s Watch entrusted us with the responsibility of manning Long Night Castle, and we took it seriously. Our sentries and patrols remained vigilant, ready to respond to any threat from the north or south,” Torganhen Flint began in a rough voice. “One day, several months ago, a lookout spotted suspicious figures moving through the brush beyond the fortress. We sent out a patrol and captured a large man and three children. They didn’t look like wildlings, so we questioned them carefully. Sure enough, it was Bran Stark, the Reed siblings from Greywater Watch, and a stableboy from Winterfell. Recognizing their importance, we quickly secured them in rooms within the main keep, assigned guards to watch over them, and reported the matter to Lord Commander Mormont.”

“That much we already know,” Roose Bolton interrupted coldly. “What I want to hear is how, under the Flint clan’s ‘care,’ they mysteriously vanished without a trace.”

Bolton’s tone stung, but Torganhen couldn’t refute the truth: the Stark heir had disappeared under their watch. Despite his irritation, the Flint chieftain swallowed his pride and continued after a brief hesitation.

“Mormont’s instructions were clear: guard Bran Stark and await Winterfell’s escort. We did as told. Later, however, Lady Meera Reed encountered harassment near the castle, and Mormont decided to come personally to handle the incident and escort the three nobles back to Castle Black. That’s when the problem arose.”
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“Mormont arrived the afternoon before the incident. The next morning, he rose early. A light snow was falling, so he chose to visit the New Gift settlement near the castle to resolve Lady Reed’s case and planned to depart for Castle Black after midday. Following his instructions, we brought Bran from his room, allowed him and his companions, including the stableboy Hodor, to pack their belongings, and waited in the main hall.”

Torganhen’s expression grew regretful. “Near noon, the brothers accompanying the Lord Commander returned, carrying Mormont back into the keep. He was unconscious, bleeding heavily from a head wound, and they called urgently for a maester or healer. The scene was chaotic, and everyone, myself included, rushed to help. No one thought to leave someone behind to watch over Bran and the others. In that brief moment, they disappeared.”

The Flint chieftain’s explanation was muddled, so much so that even Aegor felt it disrespected the seriousness of Bran’s disappearance. Seeing the risk of things spiraling further, he interjected, “Lord Flint, perhaps you could share the results of your investigation instead.”

“Yes, of course,” Flint replied, grateful for the suggestion. “At the time of Bran Stark’s disappearance, the wall around Long Night Castle—constructed at Castle Black’s request—was nearly complete. Given his injuries, it’s unlikely he could have climbed the wall. That left four possible routes: the eastern and western gates, the tunnel leading beyond the Wall, or the stairs up to the Wall itself.”

This drew the attention of the northern lords, who listened intently.

“The tunnel beyond the Wall had been sealed long ago when the castle was abandoned, and we were told there was no need to reopen it. As for the gates and the stairs, we closed and guarded them immediately after discovering Bran’s absence. We questioned all sentries and patrols and confirmed that no one saw ‘a large man and three children’ leaving through any of these routes.”

“Could they have left separately?” someone asked.

“Unlikely,” Flint replied. “There aren’t many children at Long Night Castle. The guards would have noticed strangers leaving.”

“Are you saying Lord Stark’s brother vanished into thin air?” Rickard Karstark scoffed. “You have over a thousand people living here. Surely they weren’t all crowding around to see Mormont!”

Karstark’s sarcasm was met with a grim nod from Flint. “We expanded our inquiries to the entire castle and soon made progress. Several women hanging laundry reported seeing Bran and his group leave the main hall and enter the old Night’s Watch kitchen.”
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The "old kitchen" was an octagonal stone building, its vaulted roof partially collapsed but otherwise in decent condition. Compared to the overcrowded and ramshackle dwellings scattered around the castle, its abandonment seemed odd.

Robb frowned as he inspected the building from the outside. “This structure seems sturdier than most here. Why hasn’t it been repaired and used?”

“Come inside, and you’ll understand,” Flint replied.

Leading the way, the chieftain guided Aegor, Robb, and the northern lords across the worn threshold into the ancient kitchen. The cavernous space was empty, save for massive brick ovens, scarred butcher’s blocks lining the walls, and rusted meat hooks dangling from the beams. In the center of the room lay a large, eerie well, next to which a twisted tree had burst through the stone floor. Its pale, skeletal trunk angled toward the broken roof, its blood-red leaves reaching through the gap toward the sky.

Robb stared at the strange tree, realization dawning. “Is this… a weirwood?”
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In the icy lands near the Wall, a broken roof made any building uninhabitable. To restore the kitchen would mean cutting down the tree—a weirwood. Given the deep ties between the Old Gods and the people of the North, mountain clans, and wildlings, such an act would be unthinkable.

Yet something about the tree seemed wrong. Its slender, crooked form lacked the grandeur of an ancient weirwood. Its pale bark and thin branches made it resemble a withered limb. Surely such a small, misshapen sapling held no sacred value?

Robb thought of Winterfell. If a sapling like this grew through its floors, his family would have it removed without hesitation. Flint, however, spoke as if it were something extraordinary.

“This is no ordinary weirwood,” Flint declared. “It may well be the oldest heart tree in the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Heart trees have faces carved into them,” Karstark pointed out. “What, did your clan suddenly become masters of miniature carving?”

“No,” Flint replied with a sly grin. “What you see is just the tip of a branch. The true size of this heart tree, its massive trunk and roots, lies buried beneath us. It’s larger than anyone can imagine.”

Karstark sneered. “We’re here about Bran Stark’s disappearance, not a big tree. Do you think a weirwood somehow lured him away?”

“No, but this tree—and that well—may hold the key to Bran’s whereabouts.” Flint pointed to the central well. “Those who saw Bran last reported seeing him and the others enter this kitchen. No one saw them leave. After searching every inch of this room, we found only one possibility: the well.”
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The northern lords exchanged uneasy glances. Had Bran… fallen into the well? Robb tensed but said nothing as Flint strode to the well and, to everyone’s shock, stepped inside.

“What are you doing?!” Arya’s voice broke the tense silence, only for her cry to falter into confusion. “Huh?”

Flint had not fallen. Instead, he stood calmly inside the well, both feet firmly planted on what should have been empty air. The gathered lords rushed forward to see for themselves.

The well was enormous, over four meters wide, its walls slick with moss and algae. Deep within the shadows, the faint glint of firelight revealed a spiral staircase carved into the inner walls, descending into the darkness.

Arya, wide-eyed with curiosity, asked, “Why would a well have stairs?”

A guard suggested, “Perhaps to break the ice in winter?”

Arya shrugged, accepting the weak explanation. “So Bran… went down there?”

“That seems to be the case,” Flint confirmed. “Would you like to see for yourselves?”

Robb hesitated. The prospect of venturing into the unknown to find his brother warred with the unsettling sight of the well’s depths. But the need to uncover Bran’s fate outweighed any fear. With a nod, he said, “Lead the way. We’re going down.”