Chapter 263

Aegor didn’t have enough wildfire to burn the Dreadfort to the ground.

The massive stockpile of stabilized wildfire brought from King’s Landing was stored along the Wall in ten relatively intact forts with repaired stairs, all under the Night’s Watch’s control. These reserves were strategic, meant solely for use against the wight invasion, and Aegor had resolved never to deploy them without an extreme emergency. For this campaign south into the Gift, he had only a small amount of freshly brewed wildfire, prepared by a handful of pyromancers he’d coerced—through persuasion and pressure—from King’s Landing to the settlement at Crown's Rest.

Aegor had originally intended to train these “chemists” for the eventual development of gunpowder, stockpiling their expertise for when such weapons might become necessary. Until then, their sole task was the continuous production of wildfire, creating a steady supply of this super flammable oil for the Wall’s defenses. But plans never survived contact with reality. The expenses of small-scale wildfire production were negligible compared to the revenue of the Night’s Watch enterprise, but the gaping pit of the Gift resettlement initiative devoured all his resources.

The combination of insufficient funds, skyrocketing wartime inflation, and disrupted logistics made the supply of materials for wildfire production erratic. Consequently, output remained low. By the time Aegor set out from Crown's Rest, he had half a cart of wildfire. Most of it had been used up during the assault on Deepwood Motte and the subsequent ambush at the tidal flats, leaving only a few remaining jars. His threat to burn down the Dreadfort if they didn’t surrender? Pure bluff.

...

Aegor had initially planned to launch the wildfire attack an hour after Asha entered the Dreadfort as his envoy. However, he decided to advance the timeline.

The trebuchets, borrowed from House Manderly, had originally been stored in White Harbor as part of the city’s defensive arsenal. They were dragged here to the Dreadfort’s northern perimeter as siege weapons. These were not hastily constructed contraptions but finely crafted machines, and the wildfire jars, being so light, made for excellent projectiles. With the jars lit, the trebuchet’s arm swung gracefully, hurling the fiery payload hundreds of meters over the fortress walls.

The jars didn’t hit any towers, but Aegor hadn’t aimed to inflict damage. His goal was simply to demonstrate that his forces wielded such devastating weaponry.

“If the castle doesn’t respond, fire another jar in half a turn of the hourglass.”

“Yes, my lord,” replied the soldier operating the trebuchet. But he hesitated and asked, “What do we do when we run out of jars? There aren’t many left.”

“Then we’ll signal Ser Manderly to prepare the troops for an all-out assault,” Aegor said, glancing at the small pile of remaining wildfire jars and then at the fog-shrouded fortress of the Dreadfort in the distance. He sighed. “If there’s no response after we’ve used every jar, we’ll coordinate with our allies to launch a simultaneous attack from the south.”

“Understood.”

“Thank you for your efforts. No matter what happens today, the war in the North will finally reach its conclusion.”

After issuing these orders and offering the soldiers a few words of encouragement, Aegor turned and made his way back to his tent. Sending Asha to negotiate the surrender of the Dreadfort’s defenders had always been a gamble—a calculated risk to achieve greater glory and influence at minimal cost.

And as with any gamble, sometimes you lost. If Asha’s mission failed, the losses wouldn’t be severe. After all, he had already recaptured Deepwood Motte and arrived at the Dreadfort to assist with the siege. His contributions were undeniable.

The only real concern was whether, if Asha didn’t return, he could ensure her capture alive during the final assault. After all, Lady Glover still hoped to exchange the Kraken’s daughter for her two children.

Euron may have openly declared his support for Stannis. Whether true or not, it meant the Ironborn couldn’t overtly antagonize the North any further. Those two Glover children no longer held value for the Iron Islands… and even if Asha were lost, perhaps Robb Stark could find another way to retrieve them.

Lost in thought, Aegor was halfway to his tent when the jubilant cry of a watchtower sentry rang out behind him: “They’ve surrendered! The Dreadfort has surrendered!”

...

The acrid smoke of wildfire still lingered behind the Dreadfort’s walls as the defenders began tearing down the Kraken banners under the watchful eyes of soldiers gathered along the swamp’s edge. One by one, the flags fell, and before long, the northern gate creaked open. The last remnants of the garrison marched out in a slow, orderly line.

With the Ironborn holed up in the towers, Aegor had been unable to rely on his warg scouts to estimate their numbers. Now he had his answer: their numbers were even lower than he’d guessed during his conversation with Asha, though roughly in line with his own suspicions—just over fifty men.

When Victarion Greyjoy had returned to the Iron Islands with the main fleet for the King’s Moot, he’d left over a hundred sailors behind to garrison the Dreadfort. Half of them were now dead—some had fallen during repeated northern assaults, while others had succumbed to poisoned arrows from the “bog devils,” unsanitary food, disease, and starvation. The Ironborn were born pirates, not soldiers trained to hold fortresses for extended periods. The Dreadfort lacked sufficient supplies of fresh water, food, and medical care. Even the maester had been killed. Trapped inside, the Ironborn could do little but watch their comrades die one by one.

Those who survived this ordeal were undoubtedly hardy, their resilience both physical and mental remarkable. Though they were few in number, their combat strength remained formidable. Taking the Dreadfort by force would still have cost the North at least a hundred men. If Aegor had relied on his untrained mountain clansmen and wildlings—who’d never seen a proper castle before—the losses would have been even greater.

The camp erupted into activity. The Gift army took charge of the surrendered Ironborn, who volunteered to take the black, while House Manderly’s soldiers moved swiftly to secure the fortress. They had been the first to arrive and had cooperated fully with Aegor’s plan, so he had no grounds to claim credit for being the first to scale the walls. Before long, the direwolf banner of House Stark was raised over the Dreadfort once more.

After issuing instructions on how to handle the prisoners and ordering improved treatment for Asha as a reward for her success, Aegor didn’t immediately seek out the Kraken’s daughter. Instead, he mounted his horse and, accompanied by his guards, rode into the newly reclaimed Dreadfort.

The stench hit them immediately. The Ironborn, acting like the worst kind of tenants, had trashed the place. Garbage, excrement, and even corpses were scattered everywhere, filling the air with the foul odor of rot. It would take a massive cleanup to make the fortress livable again.

After asking around, Aegor found Robb Stark on the walls. The young lord had entered the fortress with his men but couldn’t endure the smell and had retreated to higher ground.

...

“Just in time,” Robb said with a nod. Though he was still young, the neatly trimmed beard he now wore, along with his serious demeanor, lent him an air of authority befitting the Warden of the North. “I was about to send for you.”

Sensing the formality of the situation, Aegor suppressed his usual lighthearted demeanor and spoke respectfully. “The defenders of the Dreadfort have requested to take the black. Along with the Ironborn we captured during the recapture of Deepwood Motte, including Balon Greyjoy’s daughter, they await your judgment.”

Robb waved dismissively, as Aegor had expected. “Do what you will with those who surrendered to you. The Night’s Watch is always complaining about being short-handed. As for Balon’s daughter, the Glovers want her to trade for their children.”

He then fixed Aegor with a steely gaze. “Now, let’s talk about your ‘Gift Army’ marching south. I appreciate the Night’s Watch thinking of the North in this critical moment, but the Watch is forbidden from interfering in the affairs of the Seven Kingdoms. That’s been the rule for thousands of years. Now, someone’s broken it. How am I supposed to explain this to the other six kingdoms?”