Chapter 13

Winterfell was not a city, but a castle. Its purpose was similar to that of the Red Keep in King’s Landing: to house and protect its lord. It had no other urban functions and no “citizens” to speak of. According to legend, it was built by Brandon the Builder with the help of giants. As a nobleman’s seat, Winterfell was imposing, but compared to Brandon’s other creation—the Wall—it was insignificant in both scale and grandeur.

Within the high walls enclosing less than a hundred acres, much of the space was occupied by the godswood. The castle housed only the Stark family’s attendants, servants, and their families, along with a standing army of a few hundred—the largest permanent force in the North outside the Night’s Watch.

As someone who had stood watch on the Wall and fought White Walkers in the Haunted Forest, few things could impress Aegor. His first impression of Winterfell wasn’t one of awe but mild surprise: This is the political center of the North? The home of so many pivotal figures in the story of Ice and Fire? It’s so... small. No wonder they’re scrambling to host the king.

Still, Aegor realized his perception was skewed. After living in the shadow of the Wall, no building in this world could truly feel “big” to him anymore.

As the evening darkened, he followed Benjen Stark through Winterfell’s gates.

“Welcome home, Lord Benjen,” a guard greeted, recognizing the First Ranger instantly. He took Benjen’s reins with deference. “Shall I prepare your quarters and a bath?”

“No need. Where’s my brother?”

“The lord just finished entertaining the king. He’s probably busy in the main keep now... but I’m not sure.”

“The king’s already here?” Benjen frowned. “Damn, I thought I’d made it in time to get ahead of him. At least I didn’t miss the feast. Carry on—I’ll find him myself.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Winterfell was bustling. The courtyard, usually spacious, was packed with horses, carts, and crates. Servants and attendants scurried about, trying to manage the influx. Robert Baratheon’s northern procession had brought hundreds of retainers, and the queen and princess had added even more luggage and servants to the chaos. Many of these people couldn’t be accommodated within Winterfell’s walls and had to be housed in nearby villages.

Navigating the crowded paths, Benjen led Aegor through Winterfell’s winding corridors and stairways. Familiar with the castle’s layout, they soon reached the main keep, the residence of the Stark family. After exchanging a few words with the guards, they entered and quickly found Eddard Stark, who was taking a brief respite in his study.

“Benjen!” Ned Stark’s face lit up with a genuine smile as he dismissed his attendants. Rising to greet his younger brother, he pulled Benjen into a firm embrace. “How’s life on the Wall? Still as harsh as ever?”

“You get used to it,” Benjen replied, releasing his brother. “But something has come up beyond the Wall. I need to speak to you about it, Warden of the North.”

“Ah, the wildlings.” Ned nodded, his smile turning weary. “I’ve heard rumors. But you wouldn’t believe how much trouble Robert has been today. He’s grown as fat as a boar. Can we talk after the feast?”

“No, we need to talk now.” Benjen shook his head, his expression grim. “What I have to say is more important than feasts, kings, queens, or anything else in the world.” He turned and beckoned to Aegor. “This is one of my rangers. He’ll tell you what happened.”

Seeing Benjen’s seriousness, Ned’s smile vanished. He turned his sharp gaze to Aegor. “Greetings, friend. What should I call you?”

It was rare for a highborn lord to address a lowly soldier with such courtesy, and Aegor knew this was a mark of the North’s respect for the Night’s Watch. Bowing slightly, he replied, “You may call me Aegor, my lord. I am not of Westeros and have no surname in the usual sense.”

“Not of Westeros?” Ned’s curiosity was piqued. He studied Aegor closely, then glanced at Benjen with a questioning look.

“Aegor comes from a land west of Westeros that none of us have heard of,” Benjen explained. “While patrolling beyond the Wall with Waymar Royce, he encountered White Walkers and returned to warn us.”

“White Walkers?” Ned’s expression darkened as he turned back to Aegor, suspicion flickering in his eyes.

He clearly didn’t believe in the existence of White Walkers. To Ned, Waymar Royce’s disappearance was far more likely due to a wildling ambush. Jon Arryn’s death and Yohn Royce’s hopes for his son’s success had already placed a weight on Ned’s shoulders. News of Waymar’s death, even indirectly, added to his discomfort.

“If I’m not mistaken,” Ned began, his tone turning sharper, “you were one of the three rangers Waymar Royce took beyond the Wall. If White Walkers killed your leader, why did they let you and another man escape?”

“They didn’t let us go. We barely escaped with our lives,” Aegor replied, meeting Ned’s piercing gaze. He knew any sign of hesitation could ruin him. “In fact, as we neared the Wall, I and another ranger worked together to kill one of the White Walkers pursuing us.”

“And the body?”

“It vanished upon death,” Aegor explained, anticipating skepticism. Before Ned could interrupt, he added quickly, “But I have other evidence.”

“Oh?” Ned raised an eyebrow and gestured to his desk. “Let me see it.”

...

Benjen stepped back, allowing Aegor to take the lead. Moving swiftly and methodically, Aegor laid his bag on the desk and began unpacking its contents. He had brought everything: three broken swords, each carefully wrapped, and the obsidian dagger. One by one, he displayed the swords, reassembling their fragments to demonstrate their unnatural breaks.

Ned watched in silence, his expression unreadable. He waited until Aegor had finished before leaning forward, examining the pieces with a frown.

“Three broken swords and a black dagger. What am I supposed to make of this?”

“These three swords belonged to the rangers who faced the White Walkers. Waymar Royce died fighting valiantly. Gary was gravely injured but is recovering at Castle Black. And I—by sheer luck—am still standing.” Aegor gestured to the obsidian dagger. “This little black blade is what finally killed the White Walker.”

“So all three men who fought these ‘White Walkers’ lost their swords?” Ned rested his chin on his clasped hands. “And how do I know you didn’t break these yourself?”

“Look at the fractures,” Aegor replied calmly, pointing at the edges. “Notice how clean they are. Have you ever seen a sword break like this?”

Ned scrutinized the fragments closely. Picking up a piece, he turned it over in his hand, tapping it against the desk. His frown deepened. “It’s steel,” he murmured. “How is this possible?”

“Frost,” Aegor said, introducing the concept carefully. “Or more specifically, I believe the White Walkers’ weapons carry an icy magic that causes steel to shatter. Their weapons appear to be made of pure ice. Against such weapons, our steel shatters instantly.”

He then recounted the story he had shared with Mormont and Aemon, this time with even greater clarity and confidence. Rested and well-fed, Aegor delivered his account with conviction, weaving together logic and vivid detail. By the end, he had Ned’s full attention.

When Aegor finished, Ned leaned back, his fingers steepled in thought.

...

Benjen broke the silence. “The Shadow Tower has reported similar sightings. Rangers from Castle Black and Eastwatch say they’ve seen entire wildling villages abandoned, as if fleeing from something. We’re facing an unprecedented threat, and you know the state of the Night’s Watch. We need more than just a few prisoners and recruits.”

Ned’s jaw tightened at his brother’s bluntness. He reached for the obsidian dagger, turning it over in his hands as he weighed his next words.

...