GOT: Chapter 311/312

Chapter 311: A New... Beginning?

There was no one at Giant's Nest to prepare food and drink for the Northern inspection group. Even if there had been, the nobles and soldiers were in too much of a hurry to enjoy it. They left as soon as the decision was made. Less than a minute after Robb bid farewell to the giant leader, the soldiers were already mounted. The inspection tour, which had lasted for several weeks, came to an end. In the swirling snow, the backs of several hundred Northern elites, riding toward the battlefield, quickly vanished into a sea of white.

Though Aegor had made numerous preparations for the inspection, there had been no chance to use them. It should have felt like a waste, but for the first time, he was glad his efforts had been unnecessary. Although, in terms of position, he ought to be Euron Greyjoy's enemy, Aegor couldn't help but silently thank the madman.

This invasion had come at exactly the right time.

It turns out that sudden events are not always a bad thing.

…

On the other side, Arya, who had also watched them leave, instantly dropped her earlier act of grievance and dissatisfaction. Her face shifted into open delight. Robb, now Warden of the North, had changed. He no longer indulged her as before. Day after day, he had forbidden this and restricted that, managing her more strictly than even their parents. She had felt stifled the entire time they had traveled together.

Compared to going to the western coast with Robb, she would much rather stay at the Wall, with Aegor and Jon, whom she liked better.

She turned and squeezed up next to Aegor, hugging his arm tightly. Arya would never have dared to act so undignified in front of her parents.

"Master!"

"What is it?" Aegor glanced down at her. Though they had always been close, there were still a few Winterfell soldiers nearby, and this behavior was far from appropriate.

Arya lowered her voice, speaking conspiratorially. "Later, tell Ser Rodrik that the snow is too heavy and not suitable for travel. Let me stay at the Wall for a few more days."

What's so good about staying in this cold place?

Aegor smiled helplessly. He could guess why Arya liked it here. In her eyes, the Night's Watch lands were probably like a childhood visit to her grandparents' house. Everything was interesting and, most importantly, there was no parental supervision. Naturally, she didn't want to leave.

Logically, now that Aegor was about to take over as Lord Commander and had countless matters to attend to, he didn't want to keep a troublemaking young lady at the Wall. But Arya had helped him a lot just two days ago. He had promised to take her to see the weirwood tree if there was a chance. A man must keep his word.

"Your brother entrusted you to Ser Rodrik. Would my words really make a difference?"

"They'll absolutely work. Don't be fooled by Ser Rodrik's stern and fierce face. He's actually very easy to talk to. Drink some wine with him tonight, chat for a while, and once he's drunk, bring it up. He definitely won't say no."

She had even thought out the method and the process. This little imp.

Seeing that Aegor was still hesitant, Arya shook his arm forcefully. "Hey, who was it that said all sweet and mushy two days ago that they'd dote on me? Don't go back on your word!"

"Alright, alright. I'll try... but behave yourself in public." Aegor looked up and saw Ser Rodrik approaching with a puzzled expression, as if he were trying to overhear their whispers. Aegor quickly waved off Arya, coughed, and addressed everyone with a serious tone. "Alright, the Warden of the North has left. The weather is terrible. Let's return to Ice Mark City and warm ourselves by the fire."


---

In this world, everyone has their place.

Robb rushed to Deepwood Motte to lead the fight against the Ironborn. Aegor also needed to return to Castle Black as soon as possible to assume his duties. After staying in Ice Mark City for one final night, he set out with his men and returned to Castle Black without much delay.

Arya had hoped Aegor would use the excuse of the snow to persuade Ser Rodrik to let her stay at the Wall. Unfortunately, her prediction turned out to be true. The snowfall only grew heavier with each passing day. After barely reaching Nightfort in such brutal conditions, Aegor kept his promise and let Arya spend a day there admiring the glowing heart tree. But then, the weather became too dangerous for travel, at least for someone like Lady Stark.

With no other choice, Aegor stayed at the ancient fortress for two more days, hoping for the storm to pass.

At such moments, the usefulness of ravens became clear. Even in weather too harsh for men to travel, the strongholds along the Wall stayed in contact thanks to the messenger birds. Denys Mallister's actions, including his withdrawal from the election, had the effect of a stone thrown into a still pond, sending ripples across the Wall.

Aegor had not expected that, because of this two-day delay, he would not only become the first foreign-born Lord Commander in Night's Watch history, but also the first to be elected while not even present at Castle Black.

Sam had sent the final voting numbers from Castle Black. After Aegor's efforts in recruiting, the total number of Night's Watch brothers had reached a fifty-year high of 1,205. On the final day of voting, abstentions also set a record: 219, nearly one-fifth. Of the remaining 986 valid votes, Aegor received 661. Just enough to barely pass the two-thirds threshold and bring the months-long election to an end. He was now the nine hundred and ninety-eighth Lord Commander of the Night's Watch.

In the detailed report that followed, Aegor learned why the election had ended earlier than expected. Of the 236 men at Shadow Tower, three abstained, five voted for Cotter Pyke, and the remaining 228 all voted for him.

Ser Denys Mallister had not only withdrawn from the race, which led to the high number of abstentions and thus lowered the threshold for victory, but also delivered nearly all of Shadow Tower's votes to Aegor. This made a bold statement about his control over the stronghold, and clearly signaled that he had struck a deal with Aegor.

Faced with such an overwhelming gesture of support, even Aegor had to admit that a Lord Commander's influence over a stronghold could be far greater than he had imagined.

This unmistakable signal finally broke the hesitation of the neutral faction at Castle Black. Once they learned of Denys's withdrawal, the undecided quickly made up their minds. On the third day after the field was reduced to two candidates, the vote was settled, and the Night's Watch had its next leader.

Through his timely withdrawal from the storm, his calculated return, his internal lobbying and external maneuvering, and the steady support from allies, Aegor, a transmigrator and brother of the Night's Watch, finally stood at the point where the journeys of many heroes and protagonists began. After nearly three years in this world, he now possessed territory that was fully under his control, both legally and in fact.

With his allies giving him such overwhelming support, was there any reason for him to hesitate? Even though the blizzard had only slightly weakened, the new Commander could no longer afford to wait. Ignoring Arya's complaints, Aegor left her behind at Nightfort and braved the wind and snow with his retinue to return to Castle Black ahead of schedule.

…

At the headquarters of the Night's Watch, the gates opened to welcome their new leader. Aegor led his party through them and returned to the familiar fortress, no longer seeing it from the same perspective.

Whether willingly or not, the officers and men of Castle Black, especially Aegor's supporters, gathered in the courtyard to welcome their new Commander.

Melisandre stood at the rear of the crowd with a faint, knowing smile. Her red robes were striking, but Aegor's attention was drawn elsewhere. Cotter Pyke and the Eastwatch-by-the-Sea contingent had not left, and the atmosphere felt heavy. Even Jon Snow and Samwell Tarly, usually his closest allies, were wearing somber expressions.

"What's going on? Why the long faces?" Aegor dismounted and walked toward his friends, speaking to Jon, who stood at the front.

"Maester Aemon passed away last night. Sam, who was caring for him, only discovered it this morning."

Jon was composed, but Sam looked like he might cry at any moment. "I really didn't expect it. Maester Aemon was still talking to me the day before yesterday. He held on until the end of the election, but now he doesn't even get to offer a single piece of advice to the nine hundred and ninety-eighth Commander."

Aegor was stunned.

Maester Aemon's declining health had long been evident. Having lived over a hundred years, his passing was hardly unexpected. It could even be called a natural death. Still, Aegor had not imagined that the first page of his new chapter as Lord Commander would begin this way.

If there was anyone he truly respected within the Night's Watch, Maester Aemon would always have a place on that list. He was not only wise and well-read, but also the physician of Castle Black and a benefactor to countless brothers, including Aegor himself. His passing was a deep loss for the Watch. That was no empty sentiment.

And Aegor had missed seeing him one last time... because he was taking Arya to see a tree?

A wave of regret swept over him. He looked around the courtyard and found he had no desire to carry out his inauguration plans. After a few moments of silence, he made a decision.

He turned and announced loudly, "Disperse for now. Maester Aemon's funeral will be held here in one hour. After that, I will speak to everyone and issue my first set of orders as Lord Commander."

…

The crowd dispersed, and Aegor walked toward the residential tower with Jon, Sam, and a few others.

"Did Maester Aemon leave any message for me before he passed?"

"Yes. He asked that you not take revenge on your opponents once you take office. He also suggested minimizing changes to the top positions within the Watch. If replacements are absolutely necessary, he prepared a list of recommended candidates for your reference."

These were terms Aegor had already agreed upon with Denys Mallister. He waved it off. "Keep the list. I know what I'm doing. Anything else?"

"No… nothing else," Sam sniffled, his face full of sorrow. "What should I do now? I still have so much I haven't learned."

"Figure it out yourself, or ask others and discuss. There are always more solutions than problems." Aegor's tone was stern, scaring the panic off Sam's face. Then he softened. "I'm giving you your first task. Write to the Citadel. Tell them to send someone trustworthy, like Maester Aemon, or officially recognize your status as a Maester. Until then, you'll fill in. Then write to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. Order them to cooperate fully with unloading the Iron Bank's grain shipment, and while you're at it, summon Jaime back for me. That's all for now. We'll talk more tonight."

He turned to Jon. "Find someone to supervise the firewood preparations. We'll meet again at the funeral."

(To be continued.)

Chapter 312: True Dragon Bloodline

Perhaps this is what they call "out with the old, in with the new"?

The serene expression on Maester Aemon's face suggested he passed without much pain. Aegor could only console himself with that thought. As the newly elected Lord Commander, he had not yet given his inauguration speech, nor had he prepared for the Maester's death, especially with so many different kinds of people watching.

After much consideration, he ultimately chose not to speak at the funeral. Instead, the First Ranger and Sam, Aemon's personal disciple, delivered the eulogies.

Once the two solemnly recounted the old Maester's life and announced, "His watch is ended," torches were brought forward to ignite the pyre. With the help of accelerant, orange-yellow flames burst forth with a whoosh, quickly spreading across the entire stack of firewood.

This was Castle Black. The Night's Watch once performed full burial rites, but ever since the surrender to the Free Folk confirmed that buried corpses could rise as wights and crawl out from the ground, the Night's Watch had gradually adopted the common practice used Beyond the Wall: cremation instead of burial.

Coincidentally, this was also how Maester Aemon had requested his remains be handled in his final will.

The firelight gradually cast a red glow across the faces of the onlookers, reflected in their eyes. Groups of people, each with their own thoughts, remained silent, staring at Maester Aemon as he was slowly consumed by the flames.

…

Bowen Marsh, Othell Yarwyck, and other longtime powers within Castle Black huddled together, racking their brains for a way to break the deadlock and ease tensions with Aegor, the man they had once opposed but who had now carved out a victory. They were also searching for ways to demonstrate loyalty.

Meanwhile, Yohn Royce, who had nearly risked his life a week earlier trying to denounce Aegor, still could not comprehend why his actions had instead contributed to Aegor's success.

In the silence, he trembled with rage.

"Yohn, Ser Denys wrote to me. He clearly stated that Aegor won't come after us. Don't stir up trouble again. Keep your head down. I'll protect you."

"You actually believe Denys? If not for his betrayal, how would a schemer like Aegor ever have had the chance to win?"

"Quiet, JonYohn" Cotter hissed, lowering his voice. "Denys was never truly one of us, so where's the betrayal? As for Aegor, I despise him just as much as you do, but like it or not, he won, and he won now. He's the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch and holds the power of life and death over every brother. You either rebel and overthrow him or submit without question. This isn't the South. There is no third path. Everything before can be written off as part of the election, but from here on, do not give him any more excuses to act against you."

Yohn understood Cotter meant well and said nothing more, though he continued to glare resentfully at the fire, clenching his fists.

"Don't worry. After the funeral, Aegor will surely take some action to assert control. If he publicly announces my removal as Commander of Eastwatch or tries to transfer you just to make his own work easier, I'll cut him down where he stands." Cotter kept his eyes on the flames and ground out the words through clenched teeth. "The Kingslayer may be a formidable fighter, that much I admit, but I refuse to believe that Aegor, who spends all day scheming behind the scenes, can stop my battle-axe."


---

Also staring at the pyre were many hopeful reformers, numerous neutral soldiers uncertain about the future, and the red-robed witch from Asshai.

The Red Priestess was well-versed in seeking truth through fire, but today Melisandre was not here to divine the future. She was waiting. Waiting for a miracle.

Months ago, during a private conversation, Aegor had shared with her his theory that "king's blood" referred specifically to Targaryen blood. The logic had been sound and convincing, enough to dissuade her from targeting Mance Rayder or his child.

Now, there was no better chance to test that theory.

Maester Aemon, full name Aemon Targaryen, had been the third son of King Maekar I. To avoid becoming a pawn in the game for the Iron Throne, he had chosen to take the black and join the Night's Watch. Too much time had passed since then, and Aemon had intentionally kept his name quiet, so most people in the Seven Kingdoms, including the majority of the Night's Watch, had long forgotten his heritage.

But Melisandre, as a Red Priestess and close to the king, had quickly discovered it. In her search for living bearers of Dragonblood, she had found one right here. And not some bastard with a complicated origin, but a trueborn Targaryen.

In the months since, while factions within the Night's Watch battled for power, Melisandre had tried everything to obtain a sample of Maester Aemon's blood or body.

Unfortunately, the old man had been bald for years, with no hair to pluck. As for blood or flesh, harming him would almost certainly have led to being hacked down by the enraged Night's Watch. So her plans were postponed again and again.

Melisandre had originally intended to wait until he trimmed his nails.

Now she didn't have to.

In fire, nothing could be hidden. If there truly was power in the blood of House Targaryen, what was often called True Dragon Blood, then when the flames consumed Aemon's body, that power would be released.

…

The fire spread rapidly, reaching Aemon's clothing. Several Night's Watch brothers who had received his kindness began to quietly weep, while Melisandre narrowed her eyes, focusing with unmatched intensity.

A few seconds later, her eyelid twitched.

There it was.

The moment the fire touched Maester Aemon's body, a faint but undeniable magical fluctuation spread from the pyre. Aemon had never been a sorcerer and had received no training in channeling power. The magic was not strong or refined, but it stirred something within Melisandre. A familiarity, like returning to a distant memory. Decades ago, when her master, that powerful Red Priest, first appeared before her like a god among men and chose her from among the slave children to become his apprentice. That was the same sensation.

Aegor had been right. There truly was power in Targaryen blood.

And this was only the beginning. The initial magical ripple had come from the singed hair on Aemon's face, but what was in that fire now was his entire body. Flesh, bone, blood, and skin—nothing missing.

After a few heartbeats, the flames surged, consuming the rest of his robes. Once the fur and fabric had turned to ash, Aemon's torso began to roast. Within half a minute, his entire body had been engulfed, reduced to a human-shaped log.

As the smell of burning flesh and fat filled the air, the previous gentle pulse of magic suddenly exploded into something far greater. The energy surged to a shocking level in an instant.

It was like a thirsty man digging in the desert for a few drops of water, only to strike a spring that gushed up and flooded the land. In a blink, the entire courtyard of Castle Black felt submerged in that presence. For the first time since her training began, Melisandre was struck speechless. In a trance, she felt as though the Lord of Light Himself had descended, hovering in the air above, gazing down silently upon the black-cloaked men and spreading His power and grace.

Looking up, the sky was of course still gray and empty, save for a few snowflakes now melted or swept aside by the heat. But after a moment of stunned silence, the Red Priestess remembered what she should be doing. Not gaping in awe, but using this moment to seize the unleashed magic before it vanished into the wind.

Silently, she began casting. The fire roared louder, and the rising heat forced the Night's Watch soldiers to step back. With it came an endless torrent of magic, vast enough to make even the most powerful mage despair. Because its original owner was dead and there was no one to command it, the energy scattered wildly in all directions. Ninety-nine percent of it faded into the cold Northern air, with only a small portion absorbed by Melisandre herself.

If only she could step closer to the pyre, or even walk into the fire to touch Aemon's remains.

Reason kept the mad impulse in check, and reality proved it unnecessary.

Melisandre had not consumed any magic recently. Her reserves were already nearly full. Suddenly exposed to such an overwhelming source of energy, she felt like a man drowning in water just moments after thirsting for a drink.

Thankfully, magic did not drown, and she knew how to swim in it. First, she repaired the internal injuries caused by the White Walker's ice spear, using all the magic she needed. Then she filled her own body, all the way to her fingertips and hair. Finally, with no other option, she began channeling energy into an external object—the large red crystal embedded in her necklace.

That gem had not been made for this. Its purpose was to slowly absorb ambient energy from a magic-starved world, to be used in emergencies when the wearer suffered injury, poisoning, or lacked power for casting. Magical crystals were not meant to be recharged like this. Mages rarely had enough magic to spare for such indulgence.

But today, the ruby that usually supplied Melisandre with power was fed instead, filled to the brim until it burned hot and glowed. One more drop, and it might shatter.

Even after all this, the source of magic continued to spew forth, tireless and immense. The pyre burning a Targaryen elder was still releasing energy, as though it were inexhaustible.

Please stop now. Let me recover and preserve this Targaryen's remains and blood. When the time comes, they would serve as an unparalleled source of magic, a priceless tool in the coming war of ice and fire.

Melisandre screamed inwardly, but she knew that if she so much as stepped forward and disrupted the funeral, or dared suggest turning Aemon's body into spell components, she would be exiled from the Wall—or worse. To the ordinary Night's Watch, she might seem all-powerful. But now, she could only stand there, helplessly watching the pyre reach its peak and watching the ocean of magic vanish into the air.

What pained her most was that no one else present could even sense this power. No one had witnessed the miracle with her, let alone shared her heartbreak.

Was that really the case?

She scanned the crowd again, unwilling to give up. Her gaze finally stopped on the new Lord Commander, the prophet. This magic would be wasted anyway. She might as well use it to perform something meaningful.

(To be continued.)