Chapter 117

Outside the tent, the raucous cheers and shouts of celebrating soldiers seeped through the canvas, forming a stark contrast to the tense silence within. Under the gaze of countless nobles, Aegor’s body began to tremble slightly—he had not expected Robert to reward him with such a dramatic “make a wish” moment, leaving him unprepared.

Ask the king to release me from the Night’s Watch!

The thought almost escaped his lips, but reason pulled him back at the last second.

Would such a request fall under Robert’s definition of “not too outrageous”? Aegor couldn’t say for sure. He knew Robert had the authority to make it happen—if the king declared Aegor a free man and reinstated his citizenship, Jeor Mormont wouldn’t dare to openly object.

But what about Eddard Stark? As Hand of the King, Ned held the power to reject and overturn the king’s decree. By law, the king could legitimize bastards, but he had no authority to release a sworn brother of the Night’s Watch from their vows—a thousand years of precedent proved this. If Eddard insisted on upholding the rules, Robert would have no legal ground to stand on. Even if Robert’s royal authority ultimately overrode Ned’s objections, Aegor would find himself on the Hand’s bad side. And being a citizen of the Seven Kingdoms while earning the enmity of its Hand was a surefire way to ensure a miserable life.

Then there was the matter of the Night’s Watch industries. If Aegor regained his freedom, he’d have no legal claim to manage or oversee the growing enterprise he had painstakingly built. Mormont could easily assign someone else to take over, and Eddard Stark might even assist in preventing Aegor from transferring assets.

And on a personal level, Aegor had grown accustomed to—and even enjoyed—the privileges of his black cloak and role as Chief Quartermaster. The most obvious perk? He never had to set foot on the battlefield. In a world where lives were as cheap as dirt, that alone was enough to make the position invaluable.

Free of any allegiance, bound by no orders… The potential of the Night’s Watch oath was clear to anyone with vision. While the vows imposed obligations, they also granted privileges that no ordinary citizen could ever hope for. With his current status, Aegor was the only person in the Seven Kingdoms truly free to rise through his own merits, mingling with knights and lords as an equal—even facing the king himself without bowing.

Give all that up to start over as a commoner?

Aegor couldn’t imagine it. Reclaiming his freedom would mean taking unimaginable risks and enduring countless struggles to return to where he already stood—sharing wine and banter with the Seven Kingdoms’ most powerful figures.
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“What’s wrong?” Robert’s tone grew impatient, though he was far gentler this time than during the war council. His treatment of the man who had saved his reputation was almost indulgent. “If you can’t decide, then sit down, have some wine and meat, and think about it for a while.”

“No, Your Grace, I’ve decided.” Aegor lifted his head, suppressing the mix of excitement and nervousness within him. “You said I could ask for anything, with no limit on quantity?”

“Hmm… no limit, but nothing outrageous. Let’s say… three things, so long as they don’t violate the law or your Night’s Watch vows.”

“I only need two.” Aegor exhaled, deciding to take a step back to move forward. In truth, he only wanted one thing, but he needed a second to provide cover. “First, in the heart of King’s Landing, the Alchemists’ Guild has long safeguarded wildfire at your command. This substance is dangerous in the warm South but can remain stable in the cold of the Wall. I ask Your Grace to order the guild to relocate its wildfire stores to the North, leaving only apprentices for maintenance while the master firemakers produce this weapon for the Night’s Watch.”

“Write that down,” Robert instructed his scribe, relieved that the request didn’t involve money. “And the second?”

“There are more than a hundred thousand wildlings beyond the Wall, threatening to unite. The Watch needs supplies, but the Iron Throne… is unable to provide assistance.” Aegor avoided pointing out the crown’s financial woes directly, knowing Robert would take offense. “So we’ve decided to help ourselves. My department has begun raising funds, purchasing supplies, and training recruits in King’s Landing.”

Most present were already familiar with the Night’s Watch’s burgeoning enterprise. Even Robert had heard vague whispers about it. After all, every book published by the Watch carried the same imprint on the back: Brought to you by the Night’s Watch Logistics Division.

“Go on,” Robert prompted.

“But there’s one thing that’s deeply unfair.” Aegor paused for emphasis. “All our efforts to support the Wall—our commercial activities—are taxed by the Iron Throne as if we were ordinary merchants. The throne should be funding the Watch to fight the Others, yet here we are, funneling hard-earned coin back to the throne instead of turning it into supplies for the Wall.”

“Enough! The Night’s Watch is exempt from taxes on all goods purchased for provisions or weapons,” Robert declared, waving a dismissive hand.

Aegor hadn’t expected the king to be so decisive, but before he could celebrate, Barristan Selmy intervened. “Your Grace, rules are meant to be exploited. If you grant blanket exemptions, what’s to stop merchants from masquerading as Night’s Watch suppliers to evade taxes?”

Robert frowned, realizing the flaw in his decree. “Fine, fine! Only activities directly handled by the Night’s Watch themselves—no proxies or intermediaries!”

“Your Grace!” Selmy protested. “This loophole is no better. What’s to stop merchants from swearing vows, spending a few days at the Wall, and gaining permanent tax exemptions?”

“Enough!” Robert slammed his cup down, his voice rising. “The exemption applies only to you, White Walker Slayer. Anything you personally oversee, no one else!”

Selmy sighed in resignation, knowing the king’s temper wouldn’t allow him to backtrack further.

“Done. Now get out of here,” Robert grumbled, clearly irritable but unwilling to let the day’s celebrations be marred by frustration. He turned to the next in line. “Robb Stark—what do you want? And don’t take as long as the last one!”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Aegor bowed and returned to his seat, barely containing his elation. He had aimed to secure a tax exemption for the Night’s Watch factories and received far more than expected. A personal tax exemption meant that as long as Mormont remained rational, Aegor could never be sidelined or replaced.

The limitations? Minor at best. He’d just have to personally oversee the Watch’s growing empire, ensuring its expansions always carried his “personal touch.”

As he sat down, Margaery Tyrell raised her goblet with a smile. “Chief Quartermaster, your talents are truly impressive.”

“Mutual admiration, Lady Margaery,” Aegor replied, unable to hide his grin. “Compared to House Tyrell, the true masters of taxation, my gains are modest.”

Amid the celebration, Aegor knew he had secured a foothold among Westeros’s elite. He might not yet be one of the most powerful men in the realm, but he was well on his way to becoming one of its most indispensable.
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Then, all attention shifted as Robb Stark knelt before the king. His voice, steady yet determined, cut through the murmurs.

“I have fallen in love with Lady Roslin Frey, daughter of Lord Walder Frey. Your Grace, I humbly ask for your blessing to wed her.”

The tent erupted in cheers, gasps, and murmurs. Even Aegor, mid-toast, nearly spat his wine.

He had thought Cersei was the war’s biggest winner. Then he believed it might be himself.

Now he realized he had been wrong. Someone else had just played a masterstroke.