Chapter 78

To avoid the attention of the Gold Cloaks, Aegor and Yoren deliberately chose a location outside the city walls for this discreet transaction. As soon as the question was posed, silence fell upon the group. In an era where literacy was rare—barely reaching single-digit percentages—someone who could read and write was not abundant, though not entirely uncommon. But someone literate who could also perform arithmetic? That person was considered valuable, even elite. Within the Night's Watch, individuals meeting such qualifications were rare exceptions, like Benjen Stark and Jon Snow, who joined voluntarily, or Aliser Thorne, who was forced into service after losing on the wrong side of a war. In times of peace, such individuals were nearly impossible to recruit.

Among this group of roughly a dozen recruits destined for the Wall, it was certain that none could read or write—except Jaqen H'ghar.

The outcome was a foregone conclusion. After a brief pause, a calm, even voice broke the silence.

“A man happens to know a bit of the Common Tongue.”

There he goes again, talking like that, Aegor thought, suppressing an eye roll.

Jaqen’s peculiar speech wasn’t just for show. It was a calculated effort to conceal his Braavosi heritage. After all, he had infiltrated King’s Landing by masquerading as a noble from Lorath, where upper-class etiquette deemed referring to oneself in the first person as uncouth. Using “a man” was merely part of his disguise.

Though it was slightly irritating, Aegor was also pretending to be a “nobleman from Qohor,” so he let it slide. If Jaqen had chosen to speak, it meant his assignment didn’t require him to venture to the Wall and back.

“You can read?” Aegor asked, maintaining the serious tone of his fabricated identity. He pulled a slip of paper from his coat and held it up through the cage bars. “What does this say?”

“Office… Night’s Watch?” Jaqen squinted at the paper briefly before answering correctly. “Night’s Watch Office.”

“Well done,” Aegor replied, pocketing the slip and turning to Yoren. “What’s this man’s crime?”

You already know, Yoren thought irritably but played along, considering he’d accepted a gold dragon for his cooperation. The old recruiter grumbled, “Caught reading the king’s books.”

“Reading the king’s books?” Aegor raised an eyebrow and turned back to Jaqen. “What books?”

“Books about dragons,” Jaqen replied smoothly, his tone devoid of emotion. “A man has always been curious about such powerful, magical creatures. Valyria is gone, but Westeros might still hold some knowledge about them.”

The response was vague and noncommittal, making it hard to tell whether it was true. “And for that, they’re sending you to the Wall?”

Yoren shrugged, unsure how to answer. “Who knows? Not my call.”

“Fine,” Aegor said, feigning satisfaction. “He’ll do.” Gods know how many people this man’s actually killed, likely more than everyone else here combined. But as long as he doesn’t try to kill me, who cares?

“But,” Aegor added, “before I let you out, you’ll need to make some promises. I don’t see reading books as a crime, but I need assurances. If, someday, you wish to leave and return home, that’s fine. But until I find someone else who can take over, you’ll need to work diligently at the office for a time. And before you leave, you’ll need to inform me and pay an appropriate ransom. Do you agree?”

“A man agrees.”

“Good. Swear it.”

“A man swears by the Old Gods and the New—”

“Stop,” Aegor interrupted. “I’m not from Westeros. I don’t believe in the Old or the New Gods.” He smirked. “There’s only one true god: Death. Swear by your name to the God of Death that you will not harm the interests of the Night’s Watch.”

Jaqen hesitated briefly, his expression unreadable, before bowing his head slightly. “A man—Jaqen H’ghar—swears by the God of Death that he will never harm the Night’s Watch, will serve the Watch diligently until he must leave, and will provide notice and pay ransom before departing.”

Smart bastard, Aegor thought, noting Jaqen’s subtle phrasing of “must leave.” He suspected the man could claim his mission required his departure at any moment, pay a token ransom, and vanish without warning. But at least Jaqen wasn’t outright ignoring the oath, which meant he wasn’t entirely dismissing its significance.

Aegor could have forced Jaqen to swear eternal loyalty to the Night’s Watch, but he knew such unreasonable vows were rarely upheld. He himself was proof of that—he’d sworn the same oath but now sought to free himself from it.

“Alright,” Aegor finally said. “Let him out.”

Yoren scowled but handed Aegor the keys. “You open it. I’ve got my eyes on the other two.” Drawing his sword, he barked at the remaining prisoners, “Try anything, and I’ll gut you where you stand.”

Fair enough. Aegor pocketed the keys and unlocked the cage. With steady hands, he unshackled Jaqen and tossed the chains aside.
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“Change into these,” Aegor instructed, throwing a bundle of black clothing at Jaqen. “For as long as you’re here, you’re part of the Night’s Watch. You won’t have to face the horrors beyond the Wall, but you’ll need a new name. Let’s call you… Ahkun. Does that work?”

“A man finds this acceptable.”

“Good. Then let’s go.”

The two mounted Aegor’s horse and headed back to the Night’s Watch office in King’s Landing. Riding with Jaqen—a man who could easily slit his throat—was an unnerving experience, and by the time they reached the office, Aegor’s legs felt weak.

As they dismounted and entered the building, Aegor realized the day wasn’t done. More people were waiting inside—each bringing new complications.