Chapter 41

At Robb Stark’s gesture, the guard turned and left, shutting the door behind him. The room fell silent, leaving just Aegor and the young Lord of Winterfell. The one-on-one situation made Aegor slightly more at ease—whatever Robb wanted to discuss, it didn’t seem to be against him.

Robb motioned for Aegor to sit. “Friend, you’re the one who found my brother when he fell?”

That single word—friend—immediately dispelled Aegor’s fears. The Starks weren’t ones to hide their feelings behind pretense; their likes and dislikes were written plainly on their faces. Aegor nodded. “I regret that I couldn’t stop young Bran from climbing. I might’ve been able to prevent it.”

“Bran’s always been like that,” Robb said, sighing like an old man far beyond his years. “Once he’s climbing, there’s no talking him down. It’s partly our fault for spoiling him so much.”
----


Indeed, the Starks’ indulgence was apparent. Through casual conversations with Winterfell’s guards, Aegor had learned that Bran’s climbing habit wasn’t for lack of effort to curb it. His family had tried all kinds of methods to dissuade him, but no matter what they did, Bran would always find a way to climb. In the end, Eddard Stark had reluctantly allowed it to continue.

While the events of Bran’s fall could be partially blamed on Jaime Lannister’s shock and Aegor’s interference, Aegor couldn’t help but think the parents bore some responsibility too. From a modern perspective, this was a failure in education and supervision. Aegor thought grimly that if it had been his world, Bran’s reckless behavior would have warranted a firm reprimand—or even a spanking to drill some sense into the boy.

Still, Aegor knew better than to voice such thoughts. He waited silently for Robb to continue.

“No point dwelling on the past,” Robb said at last. “But I must thank you. Your warning saved him from a worse fate.”

“My warning?” Aegor’s expression hardened. “You mean the assassin... they made their move?”

“Not long after you and the others left,” Robb began, his face darkening. “One night, the library tower suddenly caught fire. Most of Winterfell’s people were busy putting it out. Only the guards posted outside Bran’s room stayed at their posts.”

“And yet the assassin struck?”

“No. The moment they saw guards at the door, they turned back. The guards suspected a distraction but didn’t leave their posts to pursue. Winterfell isn’t that large, though. We caught them before long.”
----


The assassin was caught. Aegor didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He had spent weeks trying to influence the course of events, only for everything to culminate in an accidental outcome. In the end, it was his whispered lie to Benjen Stark—told under the cover of night—that accomplished more than all his efforts combined.

“Did you interrogate them?” Aegor asked.

“They resisted capture and were killed,” Robb said, shaking his head. “That was my order. We already know who sent them; we don’t need them alive.”

“That’s fair.” Aegor nodded, though inwardly he felt relieved. If the assassin had lived and named someone other than Joffrey as their employer, the entire situation could have spiraled out of control.

Robb leaned forward, his expression solemn. “Uncle Benjen said you’re clever. You should understand why this assassin had to disappear—and why this matter must remain secret. Most people in Winterfell have no idea what happened. I chose to tell you out of respect since you’re the one who warned us. But I need you to keep this to yourself.”

“Understood.”

Aegor nodded. He knew the Stark family couldn’t openly accuse Joffrey or the Lannisters. In a world where noble families held their own justice, “the prince is equal to commoners before the law” was a concept that simply didn’t exist. Even if Joffrey was guilty, the Starks couldn’t pursue it without risking war with the crown.

Robb reached behind his chair and produced a leather pouch, tossing it to Aegor. “Take this.”

The weight of the bag and the metallic clink from within made its contents obvious. Aegor hesitated, feigning unease. “What’s this?”

“We found it among the assassin’s belongings. Likely payment for the job. I added a gold dragon to it. You’re heading south, aren’t you? Consider it my thanks for helping Bran.”

Aegor stared at the bag. It wasn’t light. Back in his world, he would’ve refused outright, much like declining a gift at a formal dinner. But this wasn’t his world, and the customs here were vastly different. This was a noble’s reward, and Aegor desperately needed the money.

He bowed his head. “Thank you, my lord.”

“Take care of yourself,” Robb said. “And remember—speak of this to no one.”
----


“Northmen respect the Night’s Watch.”

Aegor had heard that phrase countless times from his brothers at the Wall. But it wasn’t until he stayed in Winterfell that he truly understood its meaning.

The young lord of Winterfell, Robb Stark, personally shared a meal with the twelve members of the Night’s Watch who had come to his castle. This wasn’t a special honor for Aegor’s involvement in saving Bran—it was tradition, established by Eddard Stark himself. Every time the Watch sent men to Winterfell on official business, they were treated as honored guests. Those who came bearing news from the Wall dined with the lord. Those who came as deserters or oathbreakers dined with the executioner’s sword.

For the first time, Aegor truly felt the weight of the Wall’s history and how deeply its legacy was intertwined with the North.
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The following day, Robb Stark and Winterfell’s guards escorted Aegor, Yoren, and Tyrion Lannister to the gates, bidding them a courteous farewell.

As Winterfell’s towering walls receded behind them, Aegor felt a strange mixture of relief and apprehension. The road ahead was long, fraught with dangers unknown. But at least, for now, he was moving forward—one step closer to whatever destiny awaited him in the south.