Chapter 44

Before transmigrating, Aegor had followed a simple principle in his professional life: do his job diligently, but never take on tasks outside his scope, and certainly never sacrifice his leisure time for overtime or similar demands. He had no need to. His privileged family background, broad knowledge, and diverse income streams—such as gaming and stock trading—far outweighed his modest salary. Work was merely a way to keep himself busy and prevent social isolation, not a means to make ends meet. Office politics, brown-nosing for promotions, or any display of feigned diligence to please superiors had been entirely beneath him.

But in this world, things were different. His commanders in the Night’s Watch didn’t pay wages; they held life-and-death authority over him. Aegor knew that angering them could mean being sent on suicidal patrols beyond the Wall or even being labeled a deserter—both outcomes equally catastrophic.

Faced with these invisible but ever-looming threats, Aegor forced himself to act immediately, despite his exhaustion. Tyrion had announced he was retiring to rest, leaving Aegor free to pursue his next steps. For now, he decided to skip the first item on his list and focus on a more critical task—meeting the Hand of the King, Eddard Stark.

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Knocking on the door of the neighboring room, Aegor found Yoren answering in nothing but shorts, having stripped off his sweat-soaked clothes after a much-needed bath.

“What’s the matter?” Yoren asked.

“I’m going to see the Hand,” Aegor replied. “Want to join me?”

“Now? Don’t you want to rest first?”

Yoren, having pocketed the funds meant for travel expenses and enjoyed Tyrion’s hospitality the entire way, was in no rush to accomplish anything. But Aegor pressed on.

“With a Stark as Hand, there’s no better chance for the Watch to make a case. I have plenty of work to do and can’t afford to delay even half a day. If you’d rather wait and go alone later, fine—but bothering Lord Stark repeatedly won’t leave a good impression.”

Yoren sighed, grabbing his clothes. “Fine, fine. Let’s go. Just let me get dressed.”

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The heat of King’s Landing, a stark contrast to the frozen lands of the Wall, had both men drenched in sweat moments after donning their thick, black cloaks. Leading their horses from the stable, they began making their way toward the Red Keep.

Towering above the southeastern corner of King’s Landing, the fortress stood like a palace of the gods. Its lofty towers and impenetrable walls loomed over the city like a declaration of power. Aegor found the structure imposing, a perfect symbol of conquest and authority.

But halfway there, Aegor slowed his pace.

“What’s wrong?” Yoren asked.

“We need to clean ourselves up before meeting the Hand,” Aegor replied.

Yoren shook his head, chuckling in a patronizing tone. “Trust me, lad. Lord Stark won’t care if we’re scruffy. He won’t give us more men or supplies just because we look polished.”

Perhaps Stark wouldn’t mind their appearance, but the nobles and common folk along the way would. While Aegor had initially planned to ignore the task of improving the Night’s Watch’s image, the sight of his sweat-drenched, disheveled companion was too much to bear. Instead of arguing, he took a direct approach.

“Aren’t you boiling in that beard and those grimy clothes?”

“Eh… I’m used to it.”

“Then let me treat you. My expense.”

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Aegor led Yoren to a nearby barbershop, paying for haircuts, shaves, and washes for both of them. It cost a single silver stag, and when they walked out, the two men looked dramatically different—clean and presentable.

Next, they visited a clothing shop. “Two lightweight black robes,” Aegor said to the shopkeeper. “Completely black, no bright patterns or embroidery.”

“Pure black?” The shopkeeper looked at them with concern. “My condolences. May I ask who passed away?”

“No one,” Aegor replied impatiently. “We’re from the Night’s Watch.”

“The Night’s Watch?” The shopkeeper seemed puzzled but quickly plastered on a professional smile. “Of course. Give me a moment to check.”

It took some time—fully black clothing was rare outside mourning attire—but the shopkeeper eventually found two suitable robes. Aegor paid two silver stags for each and even placed an order for additional garments to be picked up later.

Though he had crossed the task of improving the Watch’s image off his list, Aegor couldn’t help but smile wryly at how this had become his first real accomplishment in King’s Landing.

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Their appearances now respectable, the two rode up to the Red Keep. After a brief explanation to the Gold Cloaks at the gate and some waiting, they were escorted inside. The northern guards stationed in the keep—loyal to Eddard Stark—recognized them as Night’s Watch members and allowed them to proceed without issue.

Moments later, they stood before the Hand of the King himself, Eddard Stark.

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