Chapter 284

"Increase the number of voters? Surely you’re not suggesting extending voting rights to the Gift. We’re electing the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, not the King of the Gift. Voting is a privilege reserved for sworn brothers of the Watch," Melisandre remarked.

"Not that extreme," Aegor chuckled and shook his head. "Even if everyone agreed, I wouldn’t dare. Do that, and Mance Rayder, the former King-Beyond-the-Wall, would undoubtedly win. No, we’ll bend the rules just a little—stay within the system. To ensure the 400 votes of the opposition account for less than one-third of the total, we need over 1,200 sworn brothers with voting rights. That means recruiting about 200 more people willing to swear their oaths and vote for me. With that, we can shift the balance."

Such a plan? Melisandre’s narrowed eyes betrayed her surprise. This man’s schemes were as endless as the shifting shadows. How could Ser Denys Mallister, with his honor-bound rigidity, or Cotter Pyke, with his blunt ways, possibly contend with a mind like this?

She studied Aegor for several seconds, her original intention to offer aid wavering. She’d planned to help him earn trust and secure a foothold at the Wall, ensuring her influence over the Watch and the Gift. Yet, here he was, crafting solutions that barely required her assistance.

"An interesting idea," she finally said. "Where will you find these 200 recruits?"

"From the Night’s Watch logistics corps, from the Gift’s residents. With enough rewards, brave men will come forward. That’s not my concern," Aegor replied, his eyes gleaming. "The challenge lies in granting them voting rights. To do that, they must first swear their vows as brothers of the Watch. Normally, the master-at-arms presents a list of new recruits to the Lord Commander, who approves their oaths and assigns them posts. But since there is no Lord Commander, I propose we bypass that step. Samwell Tarly mentioned there’s precedent for this."

"Precedent? You mean letting the master-at-arms approve recruits and conduct the oath-taking directly?"

"Precisely." Aegor nodded. "Lord Commander elections in history have lasted anywhere from a day to two years. The Watch can wait, but nobles or exiles from political conflicts can’t—they only become bound by the black after taking their oaths. I plan to incentivize this process. I’ll offer the master-at-arms a bonus for each recruit he trains and transitions into a sworn brother. Of course, money alone might not suffice; I’ll need to have a proper talk with Ser Andrew Tarth to secure his cooperation."

"Andrew Tarth served for years at the Shadow Tower before being transferred to Castle Black. How do you plan to convince him to support you, even if it means opposing his old commander?"

"That’s the trickiest part," Aegor admitted with a shrug. "But at least his public stance is neutral, isn’t it? I trust the road will present itself as we walk it. Solutions always outnumber problems."

Melisandre let out a soft laugh. "Such peculiar idioms you have. Fitting, though. This time, your path is indeed clear before you."

"Oh?" Aegor asked, feigning confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Good news," Melisandre said, her lips curving into a mysterious smile. "The most critical part of your plan—Ser Andrew Tarth—has already come to see the truth. He now recognizes R’hllor as the one true god. As a follower of the Lord of Light, he will assist you if I ask it of him."

Aegor’s heart skipped a beat. This was an unexpected boon. He didn’t care whether Melisandre had persuaded, seduced, or bewitched Andrew Tarth. "That’s wonderful. And what price must I pay for your assistance, Lady Melisandre?"

"Price?" The Red Priestess shook her head. "No, Lord Logistics Officer, you misunderstand. The Wall is the front line of a battle for humanity’s survival. The choice of Lord Commander determines the fate of mankind. I believe you are the right leader for this moment. My assistance is voluntary, no payment required. All I ask is that, once you’re elected, you agree to a few small requests."

----

Aegor suppressed a smirk. Melisandre, with all her mysterious powers and pivotal role in the story, had come to him of her own accord to offer advice and aid in the election?

He thought back to his early days after arriving in Westeros. Back then, his schemes to ensure survival required careful budgeting and keen observation. Even in King’s Landing, to recruit modest talents, he’d had to rely on eloquence, promises, and emotional appeals.

But now? His achievements and influence had brought others to his side willingly.

"Very well," Aegor said. "So long as your requests aren’t unreasonable, I’ll gladly oblige."

Melisandre inclined her head. "I’ll have the followers I brought with me—nobles and knights trained in combat—swear their oaths to the Watch. They’ll bypass the standard recruit phase and don the black immediately, with no grounds for opposition. Once sworn, they’ll cast their votes for you, ensuring your victory. Afterward, the rest depends on you and the master-at-arms."

"These men are willing to give up everything they have in the South just to support me?"

"Everything?" Melisandre smiled faintly. "The gifts of the Lord of Light far surpass anything their families or kings could offer."

Aegor chose not to dwell on what promises—or spells—Melisandre had used to persuade them. Whatever the method, their sacrifices for his benefit suited him perfectly.

----

"But you won’t keep them at the Wall forever," Melisandre continued. "Once the war is won and we’ve driven the Great Other’s forces back to the Lands of Always Winter, you’ll send them south—to gather supplies, much as you did on your journey to King’s Landing. Agreed?"

Essentially, they’d return to comfort once their work was done. It wasn’t exactly fair to the rest of the Watch, but in a crisis of this scale, fairness wasn’t a priority.

"Agreed," Aegor said. "They’ll be part of the logistics corps and responsible for southern expeditions after the war."

"And once you’re Lord Commander, you’ll allow me to spread the faith of R’hllor among the Wall and the Gift."

That was expected. Accepting her aid without any price was unrealistic. Still, promoting the Red God’s teachings wouldn’t harm the Wall’s defenses, so Aegor nodded again.

----

"Finally," Melisandre said, her voice steady, "you must acknowledge yourself as Azor Ahai reborn, the prophesied prince destined to lead mankind in this war against the darkness."

That gave Aegor pause. Declare himself the prophesied savior? What benefit would that bring? The Night’s Watch, the wildlings, and the settlers of the Gift—who among them cared about such a prophecy?

"I don’t understand," he replied. "Why pretend to be someone else? That prophecy may be famous, but I doubt anyone truly takes it to heart. I intend to win as Lord Commander through merit, not by playing to superstition."

Melisandre shook her head. "The signs are clear. You are the one foretold by prophecy. Years ago, I saw Dragonstone in the flames and interpreted it as a sign that the prince was Stannis Baratheon. But Stannis refused to fight on the front lines of this war, and the signs no longer pointed to him. I now understand: the flames showed me Dragonstone because that is where I would meet you—the true prince reborn."

Aegor sighed inwardly. Melisandre was unwavering in her conviction. Her belief in his destiny might be beneficial, but he had no intention of confirming it.

"With all due respect, I refuse," Aegor said firmly. "I am no one’s reincarnation. I’ll lead the Wall’s defenses and fight our shared enemy, but I won’t claim a title that neither helps nor pleases me."

Melisandre studied him for a long moment, her gaze piercing. Eventually, she let out a soft sigh, retreating to her seat. "Very well. If you insist, I won’t push further... for now."

Despite her disappointment, Aegor knew she wouldn’t abandon him. After all, she believed he was the prophesied savior. That alone ensured her continued support.