Chapter 281

Over eighty percent of the Night’s Watch at Castle Black had already gathered, and the hall was growing more crowded by the minute. Among the familiar or vaguely recognizable faces of the Watch’s soldiers, Aegor also spotted the long-absent Red Priestess Melisandre and the followers who had accompanied her. Even the aged Maester Aemon, now so frail he could hardly walk, shuffled into the hall with the aid of Samwell Tarly.

Aegor scanned the room, a faint, almost imperceptible smile curling the corners of his lips.

Excellent. The opening act was merely a warm-up—the true drama begins now.

He wasn’t here to single out Yohn Royce. This was a battle of no return, one that would leave no room for retreat or compromise. The more witnesses, the better.

----

“In this chamber, the election for the 998th Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch is underway. That number is likely inflated, but let’s not debate that now. For simplicity’s sake, we’ll acknowledge that the Watch has had several hundred commanders,” Aegor began, his voice calm yet commanding. There was no rehearsal for this speech, no accomplices to prompt or support him—it was a one-man performance. He posed his own question aloud: “Of these hundreds of commanders, how many were truly competent? Sam, care to hazard an answer?”

Caught off guard, Sam froze for a moment, but with Aemon, Jon, and Aegor present, his courage steadied. After some thought, he cautiously ventured, “If the standard is simply ‘fulfilling the duty of guarding the Wall,’ since the Wall has never fallen, I’d say most of them were competent.”

“I’d agree,” Aegor replied, his tone laced with sarcasm. “‘Competent’ is such a low bar, so cheap that being called it would feel like an insult. But today, we face the Others and their unprecedented army of the dead. Sam, one more question: in the long history of the Night’s Watch, how many times have the Others attacked the Wall?”

“Never,” Sam answered firmly. “The only record is the tale of the Thirteenth Lord Commander, who was supposedly seduced and corrupted by a woman believed to be one of the Others. He ruled the Nightfort as his kingdom for thirteen years. After his defeat by the kings of the North and beyond the Wall, it was discovered he had offered sacrifices to the Others. But those accounts are unreliable. Personally, I believe the Others have never truly attacked the Wall since the Watch was founded.”

Aegor nodded, then turned to the assembled brothers. “I won’t vouch for Sam’s courage in battle, but I trust his vast reading and memory. Maester Aemon, would you care to add anything about the Others attacking the Wall?”

The blind maester shook his head, his voice trembling as he replied, “Aside from the vague records about the Thirteenth Commander, I have nothing to add.”

“The Night’s Watch was born in the wake of the Battle for the Dawn. At that time, the Others had already been driven back to the Lands of Always Winter by Azor Ahai and the human armies. The first Lord Commander was likely one of the heroes of that war, but he wasn’t part of the Watch when he fought the Others. Since then, the only mention of the Others concerns the Thirteenth Commander’s corruption. So here’s the conclusion: never in history has a Lord Commander led the Watch in repelling a major assault by the Others.”

“Enough rambling—what’s your point?” Cotter Pyke interrupted, his brow furrowed with irritation.

“Not long ago, an army of the dead assaulted Castle Black. The charred corpses of wights burned by oil and wildfire still litter the snowfields. This is a challenge no Lord Commander has ever faced. What we need now isn’t someone who might be ‘competent’ but a proven leader—someone capable of steering the Night’s Watch to victory in this war of ice and fire.”

----

The hall remained silent, but the number of people inside had multiplied several times over since Aegor first arrived. Even the faintest whispers, when layered upon one another, merged into a subtle hum of background noise.

A few seconds after Aegor finished speaking, Cotter Pyke burst into laughter. "You think you are the leader who will lead the Night’s Watch to victory in this war of ice and fire? That’s some arrogance."

"A deserter, a thief, a degenerate who lusts after boys, and a shameless schemer who ignores the Watch’s laws to meddle in the Seven Kingdoms’ affairs—such a man dares to reach for the Lord Commander’s seat?" Yohn Royce had finally found his opening. "You may have some talent for logistics, but your character is utterly unworthy of leading an order as noble as the Night’s Watch!"

“I was indeed forced to join the Watch for theft, but that was hardly due to heinous crimes—I was a shipwrecked foreigner unable to speak the language. As for desertion, Commander Mormont, Benjen Stark, and even the late Lord Eddard Stark have all cleared my name—your opinion matters little. And these disgusting rumors about my preferences? Unless you have proof, shut your mouth!” Aegor dismissed the accusations decisively, refusing to give Royce any ground. “We’re here to discuss leadership in a time of crisis, yet Lord Royce resorts to baseless personal attacks. I can only conclude that your capabilities are as lacking as your character.”

Without pausing to let Royce recover, Aegor turned his ire toward another target. “Two months ago, I doubted my own ability to lead the Watch in this war. I refrained from running, trusting that more experienced commanders would step forward. Yet, after waiting, I’ve come to realize that no such leader exists—no one with both the credentials and the capability to guide us through this. If I don’t step up, we’re doomed to failure under mediocre leadership.”

"Mediocre?"

For the first time, the First Steward of the Watch could no longer remain a bystander. "Is that how you describe commanders as distinguished and experienced as Ser Denys Mallister and Cotter Pyke?"

Aegor didn’t even acknowledge Othell’s question. He didn’t look at him, didn’t waste a single breath responding. Instead, he turned straight to Sam.

"Tell me, Samwell, how many votes do Ser Mallister and Cotter Pyke each control from their respective strongholds?"

No one knew the numbers better than Sam, and he answered instantly.

"Ser Denys Mallister holds the votes of 236 brothers stationed at Shadow Tower. Eastwatch has around 205 men, though about twenty accompanied Cotter Pyke to Castle Black. That still leaves him with the votes of over 180 men."

"If anyone disputes these figures, speak now," Aegor said, sweeping his gaze over the gathered crowd.

No one spoke.

"Shadow Tower and Eastwatch each command over two hundred men. Castle Black holds around five hundred, with the remaining brothers scattered along the Wall’s newly-manned outposts, overseeing the mountain clansmen. Altogether, a little over a thousand men hold voting rights. A candidate needs two-thirds of that to win—unless, of course, he is one of the two commanders with enough direct votes to lower that threshold significantly."

Aegor let out a scoff.

"And yet, even with that massive advantage, after all these weeks of struggle, neither of them has been able to secure victory. They cannot defeat each other, yet neither will concede—so now, they turn to a third party to forge a so-called compromise.

"Tell me, what kind of leaders are so incapable that they require a mediator to settle their own election?"

"Because after two months of deadlock, you call them mediocre?" Othell scoffed. "What if the reason neither has won is that both are too qualified? That the choice is too difficult?"

"That is a possibility," Aegor nodded. "And I considered it. So I did a little digging—an investigation into their accomplishments as commanders. Would anyone like to hear the results?"

Othell frowned.

Aegor’s reaction was too smooth, too natural. It almost felt as if Othell had walked straight into a trap, setting him up for an argument he was never going to win.

Even so, the First Steward refused to back down. "Both have served diligently. They have never allowed their defenses to lapse, and their fortresses have remained secure under their watch."

Aegor smirked and shook his head, feigning a mix of disappointment and amusement.

He glanced at the assembled brothers—by now, the hall was nearly full.

The timing was perfect.

"Indeed, under their leadership, the Free Folk never breached the Wall to raid the Gift or the North. But tell me, what else?

"In all these decades, have their strongholds grown stronger? Have their garrisons increased? Have their men lived better lives?

"Shadow Tower still guards the Gorge and Skull Bridge, just as it always has. Eastwatch still commands its fleet, but in all this time, has a single ship been added to its docks?

"These men have done nothing but maintain what was built long before they were born.

"They have kept their own halls clean but have done nothing to improve the Watch itself.

"Yes, they have done their duty. But their duty has earned them no greater achievements than any other ‘competent’ commander in our order’s long history."

He narrowed his eyes, his gaze cold and sharp as it fell upon the two commanders. They did not flinch, but the air in the hall grew heavier.

The brothers watching could feel it—a shift in the tone of the gathering, a line being drawn.

"You have rested on the Wall that Brandon the Builder built. You have commanded soldiers who follow orders without question. And in your complacency, you have come to believe that you are the greatest leaders of the Night’s Watch.

"You are nothing but caretakers of old fortresses, yet you think yourselves worthy of being its Lord Commander?"

----

The murmurs died away completely, and the cellar fell into utter silence.

The Night’s Watch, due to its unique structure, granted each stronghold’s commander a great deal of autonomy. Conflicts between them were not uncommon, but such disputes were usually limited to private insults, subtle sabotage, and behind-the-scenes maneuvering. No one had ever seen—let alone heard of—someone openly and mercilessly attacking his rivals in front of half the Watch’s brothers.

Aegor’s sudden assault on the two commanders left Yohn Royce—who had been fiercely opposing him moments before—completely wrong-footed. He hesitated, unsure whether he should continue arguing or not, unable to direct his energy anywhere.

As for the two veteran commanders, who together had held their positions for half a century, they had just been thinking of ways to support Royce—only to find themselves becoming Aegor’s next targets. Stunned, they couldn't even organize a response.

The conservatives had been caught completely unprepared. Thrown into a state of confusion, their entire faction momentarily faltered.

And in that vacuum, Aegor seized complete control of the conversation.

"I have never claimed to be some extraordinary figure. But I built the Night’s Watch logistics office from nothing, increased the Watch’s numbers for the first time in history, and ensured that my brothers were treated as the ‘Guardians of the Realm’ they were meant to be. I even restored the full defensive network of the Wall. That is what I have accomplished as Chief Logistics Officer of the Night’s Watch."

Of course, this was not solely Aegor’s achievement. Jeor Mormont had contributed just as much—if not more—through his trust, decisiveness, wisdom, and leadership.

Blaming a dead commander for failures while taking full credit for successes was, frankly, shameless.

But for the greater good, Aegor had no choice but to do it.

"It may sound like arrogance, but unfortunately for my opponents, it is simply the truth. I—Aegor Wester—have done more for the Night’s Watch in two years than these two commanders have in their entire lives.

"After careful investigation and thorough consideration, I have reached a final conclusion: I am the best candidate to lead the Watch through the coming storm.

"I once said I would not enter this election—but for the future of the Watch, for the survival of all mankind, I am breaking that promise."

He turned to the blind maester.

"Maester Aemon, please add my name to the list of candidates."

His gaze swept across the gathered brothers.

"If you do not wish to taste despair and death—cast your vote for me!"