Chapter 294

Such a major event, yet the final key figure to appear took so long to arrive—not out of arrogance, but because of frailty. Maester Aemon, who had served under countless Lord Commanders and had grown so old that even Denys Mallister considered himself a junior in comparison, had been in declining health since Mormont’s death. Months of election turmoil had drained him to the point where he could no longer even walk. Despite the chaos at Castle Black dragging on for hours, he only now arrived at the scene, carried on a stretcher by Samwell and another helper.

The arrival of the blind, ancient maester unsettled many officers who knew the state of his health. “Maester Aemon, you shouldn’t exert yourself. Please rest in your quarters; we can handle this ourselves.”

“Thank you for your concern,” Aemon replied weakly, shaking his head with a faint smile. “But I’ve been cooped up indoors long enough. If I don’t come out and get some sun, I’ll start growing mold.” He chuckled faintly, though the overcast skies and biting wind made it clear there was no sun to be had. No one bothered to point that out.

A chair with a backrest was quickly fetched, and Aemon was carefully seated amidst worried and puzzled glances. Sam engaged the gathered crowd in quick questioning, piecing together the events that had unfolded. Once informed, Aemon sighed softly.

“So that’s the situation,” he murmured, his voice trembling with age. “By rights, only the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch has the authority to decide the fate of the King-Beyond-the-Wall. But rules are dead things, and men are living. Since no Lord Commander has been chosen yet, I’ll overstep my bounds and offer a suggestion.”

Sam relayed the maester’s words loudly, ensuring everyone heard. “Castle Black has been rebuilt with walls capable of defending against attacks from the south. However, this reconstruction has also reduced its space. In these dire times, when we should be using every inch of this fortress to prepare for the enemy, dedicating an entire tower and resources to housing Mance Rayder’s family—while our brothers live crammed into tiny quarters—seems… a bit excessive. Since the issue has been raised, why not simply move the trouble to Crown's Rest? Let the logistics officers handle it, sparing our frontline brothers their burden. What do you all think?”

Val muttered discontentedly under her breath, “We haven’t caused any trouble. Why are we being called one?” But understanding the old maester’s unparalleled standing within the Night’s Watch, she refrained from speaking too loudly and only whispered her complaint to Jaime.

Despite his frailty, Maester Aemon once again demonstrated his unparalleled wisdom. Even with his weakened voice and trembling body, he had pinpointed the only solution to defuse the conflict peacefully—and had even prepared an elegant way for everyone to save face.

The three senior officers of Castle Black exchanged brief glances and quickly caught on. If the “transfer of Mance Rayder’s family” became a decision agreed upon by all the leaders, Jaime’s actions would no longer be considered insubordination. The men of Eastwatch would lose their justification for blocking the way, and everyone could sheathe their weapons without feeling humiliated.

Jeremy Rykker, the usually neutral First Ranger, was the first to speak. “Maester Aemon’s proposal is wise. As the First Ranger of Castle Black, I support transferring Mance Rayder and his family to Crown's Rest. What do you say, Marsh? Yarwyck?”

With Aemon’s weight behind the decision, no one dared waste the opportunity. After all, whatever happened could simply be blamed on giving face to the elderly maester—not on backing down.

In an instant, the situation flipped. Jaime Lannister’s defiance was no longer seen as breaking discipline but as the fulfillment of a collective, logical decision. What had been a precarious standoff transformed into a consensus, removing any leverage for future criticism or retaliation against the reformers. Aegor would emerge victorious.

Yohn Royce, however, could not accept this. He straightened, ready to refute Aemon’s suggestion—but he had forgotten one crucial detail: he was not the one in charge. That authority rested with Cotter Pyke.

Only moments ago, Pyke had been humiliated by Jaime’s superior skill, but he now returned to his senses. Surveying the situation, he realized that every decision-maker present had opted for compromise, legalizing Jaime’s actions. To resist further would be to sacrifice himself and his men as scapegoats for stability—and later be branded traitors for their trouble.

“You heard the maester and the officers,” Cotter snarled through gritted teeth. “Put away your weapons and let them pass!”

With Castle Black’s senior officers shouting commands, the crowd began to disperse. The shipment of meat—thousands of pounds—was signed into the warehouse, and the convoy from Crown's Rest completed their task, departing with Mance Rayder’s family in tow. From the direction of the kitchens, the enticing aroma of rendered fat began to waft.

A crisis that nearly erupted into a blood-soaked disaster was resolved without a single drop spilled. On the surface, the senior officers of Castle Black had “unanimously agreed” to the transfer, leaving everyone ostensibly satisfied. But anyone with half a brain could see through the façade: this was another masterstroke by Aegor.

Without even being present, Aegor had once again demonstrated his power. He had proven to the Night’s Watch that even without the title of Lord Commander, he could make the organization bend to his will.

Of course, the matter was far from over. The humiliated senior officers, forced to compromise in public, sent ravens to Long Night Castle to report the incident to Robb Stark. Meanwhile, Cotter Pyke and Yohn Royce retreated to their quarters, plotting their next move.
----


Yohn Royce slammed a piece of parchment onto the table in frustration. “That bastard has no respect for order. If he becomes Lord Commander, the Night’s Watch will be doomed!”

“Don’t act like you care so much about the Watch. You didn’t put on the black willingly,” Cotter retorted as he washed his face, visibly calmer now, though his swollen face still bore the marks of Jaime’s strikes. “Forget your schemes. Tell everyone to pack up. We’re returning to Eastwatch tomorrow.”

“What, run away like cowards? Like Mallister did?” Yohn spat bitterly. “Everyone will think we’ve surrendered.”

“What choice do we have? You got a better idea to stop him—other than killing him? Look at that bastard. He’s got guards with him even when he goes to the privy. Who’s going to find the chance?”

Cotter had suffered defeat before. Eastwatch, close to the Bay of Seals, often faced raids by wildlings on rafts or encounters with smugglers and foreign sailors. Over the years, he had met many skilled fighters. But being so thoroughly outclassed, beaten without any hope of retaliation? That was a first.

Today’s battle had shattered more than his pride. It broke his confidence in the one area he excelled—his strength.

Cotter was no fool. He knew when he was beaten. He also knew when to cut his losses. “In Castle Black, away from my stronghold, I’ve got no advantage. There’s no point staying here.”

“So we just accept this?”

“Accept that he outmaneuvered us? Yes. But letting him become Lord Commander? Never.”

Yohn clenched his fists, but Cotter continued. “Once we’re back at Eastwatch, I’ll figure out who’s voting for him. Whether we delay his election, disrupt his command, or trip him up later, it’s better than staying here and losing face.”
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The raven sent to Long Night Castle never reached Robb Stark. Instead, it fell into the hands of the man being accused.

Aegor glanced at the report, filled with grievances and accusations, and let out a cold laugh. Without a second thought, he crumpled the parchment and tossed it into the brazier.

The transfer of Mance Rayder’s family had been a precautionary measure, but the backlash from Royce and Pyke proved Val’s instincts right. Aegor’s careful planning had once again saved him from disaster.

He adjusted his cloak, composed himself, and stepped into the courtyard of Long Night Castle. Behind him, the report burned to ash in the forge’s fire.