GOT: Chapter 244/245

Chapter 244: A Show of Power

The sound of something piercing through the air, which should have been clear and sharp, was so loud it hurt everyone's ears. Melisandre cried out, lost her balance, and fell backward onto the filthy ice.

Aegor broke out in a cold sweat. He hadn't clearly seen the trajectory of the projectile, but that flash of light had triggered deeply ingrained memories of mortal danger. His reaction was purely instinctual, and just in time. He knew full well that if the enemy intended to target anyone on the Wall, he—marked by the god of cold after killing a White Walker—and Melisandre, a servant of the Lord of Light and wielder of fire magic, were undoubtedly the most likely targets.

The push wasn't just to save her. It was also to use the recoil to shift himself away from the danger zone.

Then, the object truly came.

A gray shadow flew through the space where Melisandre had just stood, ghost-like, still carrying tremendous momentum after traveling nearly a league. It quickly vanished into the gray sky south of the Wall, leaving only a fading whine in its wake.

Had it not been for Aegor's push, the Red Woman would've been skewered through the chest and killed on the spot.

...

The Wall was so high that few ranged weapons could ever reach the top. The Night's Watch brothers stationed above had no warning. The other officers nearby had only seen Aegor suddenly shove the red-robed woman, followed by a piercing screech through the air. Only after the echo faded did everyone begin to react.

"What was that just now?" Mormont stared, almost thinking his old eyes had failed him. He turned, shocked, but could no longer see the object that had flown past them.

"It was a weapon thrown by a White Walker. I was nearly killed by one before." Whether it was an ice sword, an ice spear, or just a stone, Aegor couldn't tell. He took two steps back to clear the danger zone, crouched down, and helped the Red Priestess up. "Lady Melisandre, are you hurt?"

"Mm... I'm fine." The red-robed woman stood, her face pale, one hand clutching her left arm. Since Aegor had known her, she had never seemed so much like a regular person. "As expected of the servants of the god of cold. I was just thinking... about being too careless."

Before she could finish, another piercing noise echoed through the air. The Wall shuddered like it had taken a direct cannon hit. The ice beneath their feet cracked and trembled. A wide section of the icy guard rail at the edge of the Wall collapsed with its base, more than a meter thick, and shattered down the side. Startled, the nearby soldiers all backed away from the Wall's edge.

The White Walker's second ranged strike had hit the Wall. Judging by its aim, the enemy had hoped to strike Melisandre, who'd now been dragged into a blind spot, but they'd underestimated the strength of the Wall's solid ice. The attack had failed.

It wasn't safe here anymore.

"My lady, you must leave the Wall. The White Walkers can sense your position."

The interrupted spell left the Red Priestess reeling and in pain. She didn't resist. Nodding, she allowed a nearby soldier to support her toward the lift. The cage door opened, and she stepped in, descending to the ground.

The White Walker Aegor had killed two years ago could only embed his ice sword half a meter into a tree. But the one who attacked today had pierced more than a meter of solid Wall ice. Was this particular White Walker stronger, or had these creatures grown more powerful over time?

The second projectile-like attack, which had shattered part of the Wall's edge, had rattled all the soldiers atop the Wall. Fortunately, a third strike did not follow. This kind of powerful ranged assault must be taxing even for the White Walkers.

Soon, a Night's Watch brother shouted, "Lord Commander, the fire below... it's going out!"

Ignoring both the threat of further White Walker attacks and Aegor's warning, Jeor Mormont approached the edge of the Wall and looked down. The wildfire and pitch oil in the barrels had already been consumed by the catalytic burn of the fire-enhancing spell. The towering wall of flame from earlier had merely been the burning of wooden fences and gate panels, amplified by Melisandre's magic. Without the spell, the remaining wood couldn't sustain that level of fire. As soon as her spell was interrupted, the flames died down, leaving only smoldering embers.

The heat remained, but it was no longer enough to immediately destroy any wights that stepped on it.

A dark tide of wights surged toward Castle Black's entrance without hesitation. Two enormous wight giants had already staggered into the middle of the path between the Haunted Forest and the Wall. If either managed to squeeze into the tunnel before the gate closed, it would be a catastrophe. Ordinary wights could be dealt with—light a fire at the tunnel entrance, prepare dragonglass weapons, and even if there were 100,000 of them, they couldn't breach the Wall.

But Castle Black was currently packed with Wildlings who had just passed through. In such chaos, if even one wight entered, it wouldn't matter how many tricks the Night's Watch had prepared—they wouldn't be able to use them.

The ballistae, originally mounted for counterattack, had been moved down to prevent the Wildlings from causing unrest. But that ultra-long-range "decapitation strike" from the White Walkers had opened Mormont's eyes. He now realized that these enemies possessed cunning, intelligence, and means previously unknown. Against such foes, the Lord Commander dared not be careless.

Gritting his teeth, the Old Bear made a difficult decision. "Blow the horn! Prepare to shut the gate!"

"Has Jaime made it inside?"

"I don't think so. There are still a few brothers below!" Mormont took a deep breath, then made up his mind. "It's too late. Sound the horn. Shut the gate!"

Aegor stamped his foot in frustration but didn't argue. Instead, he turned to ask the other Night's Watch brothers behind him, "Where's that small hanging basket—the one we used to bring Mance in for negotiations?"

"In that corner, over there!"

"Lower it!"

The iron gate rumbled as it descended. The last Wildling to make it through was nearly crushed, rolling through just in time. A woman clutching a child, seeing she couldn't make it, threw the infant forward. The baby soared through the gap just before the gate slammed shut. She then picked up a torch from the ground, turned her back to the gate, and faced the oncoming tide of wights.

The sound of the iron gate slamming down was a death sentence for all who had not yet entered the tunnel. No oil barrel, no rocket, could now stop the pale tide from consuming the last few hundred. From atop the Wall, one could clearly see the black figures of those still outside—today's guards—vanishing like ink spilled into filthy water, disappearing without a trace.

...

The fine steel sword brought from Casterly Rock was already dull, but in Jaime's hands, it remained a deadly weapon. He spun like a whirlwind, cutting down every wight that lunged at him. As he faced the endless wave of snarling, clawing undead, the Kingslayer felt a strange sense of peace.

It seemed he would meet his end with honor. His only regret was that he hadn't even seen one of the legendary "White Walkers" before being forced into this desperate fight with their reanimated pawns.

A shadow flickered overhead. He looked up and saw a small hanging basket, barely big enough for one person. Unlike the main lift cage, it wasn't mounted on tracks, and in the fierce wind, it swayed violently. It swung past him once, and he hesitated for just a second before cutting down another wight. When it swung back toward him again, he leapt decisively and grabbed the thick rope supporting the basket.

(To be continued.)

Chapter 245: Troubles

The hanging basket was not connected to a winch or any of the mechanisms used for the lift cage. It was pulled entirely by hand. The moment Jaime jumped in, several wights also climbed up and grabbed onto the basket's bars. The weight of one man and several wights strained the ropes to their limits, nearly dragging down the soldiers hauling the other end atop the Wall. At the critical moment, Jaime swung his sword one-handed and severed the part of the rope the wights clung to. Then, without hesitation, he discarded the blade, gripped the remaining rope with both hands, and climbed half a meter up—just enough to dodge the giant hand of a wight reaching for him from the top of the Wall—and narrowly escaped the tide of the dead.

Whether due to exhaustion or simply not recognizing Jaime Lannister, the White Walkers lurking at the edge of the Haunted Forest did not launch further long-range attacks at the Rangers hauling up the rope. After swaying violently in the biting wind for over ten minutes and slamming into the icy face of the Wall countless times, Jaime finally reached the top of the Wall from the northern side—for the first time.


---

Panting heavily, Jaime pulled himself onto the top of the Wall using both hands and feet. After the battle, soaked in sweat and exposed to the freezing wind, his entire body was stiff with cold. He lay flat on the icy ground, shivering, and took a long time to recover before he managed to thank the men around him.

"Don't speak yet. Give him a blanket. Let's talk in the tower below." Aegor finally persuaded Mormont to leave the edge of the Wall. "Keep throwing the oil barrels! We can't let the White Walkers turn our fallen brothers into wights!"

"But, Ser, we're almost out of reserves..."

"Follow the order! Use up every oil barrel we have, and immediately switch... to wildfire! This is the closest the wights have come to the Wall. If we don't take this chance to kill as many as possible, we'll regret it." Aegor had made up his mind: once they returned, he would immediately notify Eastwatch to distribute the solidified wildfire brought from King's Landing to every stronghold along the Wall. The war between the living and the dead had begun sooner than expected. "Commander, I recommend doubling the number of sentries on the Wall starting today. No leaning against the parapet when idle. Get some men to help carry Ser Jaime inside!"

...

With no more fear of harming the living, the oil barrels exploded freely at the foot of the gate, where the wights were thickest, devouring the God of Cold's puppets and the corpses that had not yet risen. Once the last living person on the ground was killed, the army of the dead withdrew from the Wall under distant control.

In this brutal and unstrategic battle, the White Walkers successfully prevented the final wave of Wildlings from crossing the Wall and sowed chaos in Castle Black. But the humans had their victories as well. Their only sorceress had fallen into a trap and survived a seemingly impossible long-range attack. The army of the dead had suffered heavy losses under the Night's Watch's bombardment. Though they had won a round, their numbers were not greater than before.

...

The remaining wights retreated into the Haunted Forest, and the battle ended. But the troubles the White Walkers left behind were far from over. Castle Black was now packed with Wildlings. Children cried for lost parents, women searched frantically for missing husbands, and angry men shouted at the Night's Watch for closing the gates too early, cutting off their kin's only chance of survival.

Previously, the Night's Watch had been able to disarm the Wildlings, seize their food and valuable livestock, and impose order because of their absolute military advantage over each incoming wave of these "new citizens." But now... the number of angry, confused, and grieving Wildlings inside Castle Black far outnumbered the Night's Watch and the mountain clans combined. And this mass of people clearly had no intention of following orders.

"Move them away from Castle Black's gates first. We must regain full control of the fortress before continuing the conversion process into new citizens of the Gifted Land. If manpower is short, pull another hundred from Queensgate..."

Jon eyed the huddled Wildlings warily, hesitating. "But they fled in panic. They didn't bring enough food, and many just lost loved ones. Even so, must we still follow the original plan?"

"The point isn't to rob them of everything they have, but to teach them how to use money and integrate them into the local economic structure. That's the simplest way to manage them. Understand? Even if they lost most of their belongings escaping, even if they just saw their kin die beyond the gate, we cannot abandon the plan. Otherwise, the cost will only grow." Aegor shook his head. "Alright, carry out the orders immediately. No more chaos. I have a meeting with the Lord Commander and the others."

...

"How many of our brothers were stationed outside the fence today?"

"Thirty. Ten came in with the Wildlings when the Lord Commander last opened the gate. Of the remaining twenty, only Ser Jaime was saved."

A tragic outcome, though some clearly weren't ready to let it go.

"Nineteen brothers—just to feed two thousand mouths? They fled without even bringing their food!" Bowen Marsh stared at Aegor as he spoke, making his displeasure clear. As First Steward, Marsh was one of the more conservative leaders among the Night's Watch. He had long opposed Aegor's radical reforms, but Mormont's support had left him powerless. Now that a major incident had occurred, he finally had grounds to criticize.

But Aegor had no intention of backing down.

"Lord Marsh believes that nineteen brothers matter more than nearly three thousand new landholders. That's touching loyalty. I won't dispute it. But as the man in charge of logistics, I make my judgments based on numbers. We lost nineteen men. We gained nearly three thousand settlers. Even if just one percent can fight, they'll make up for the loss." Aegor added, "And I'm sure you've all heard the term 'spearwife.'"

"Yes, Wildling women can fight. Out of three thousand, perhaps a thousand might be combat-capable. I'll admit that when the White Walkers come, they'll likely stand with us... but what if they rebel? What if they riot in Castle Black today or one day join forces with those who fled into the Haunted Forest and seize the Wall?"

"We've been over this. Preventing that is my responsibility." Aegor shrugged. "Keep Mance Rayder and his family under control. Break up the tribal groups. Manage them through a structured system. In half a year, they'll be as docile and diligent as any smallfolk in the Seven Kingdoms."

"Enough. I approved Aegor's risky plan. There's no point regretting it now." Mormont knocked the table to silence them. "Have the Wildlings inside the castle been moved out?"

"Jon is handling it."

"What's the plan for dealing with such a large group?"

"Temporarily resettle them in the ruins of old Mole's Town, just south of the Wall. When reinforcements from Queensgate and Sable Hall arrive, we'll surround the settlement and begin the same registration and assimilation procedures as before."

"You must have noticed that this group carried far less food than earlier ones. Our supply situation has worsened again. What's the solution?"

"We'll move to the second phase of the plan early. Take ten to twenty days to teach the new arrivals how to 'get things done with coin.'" Aegor replied. "Then I'll organize a supply mission. Two to three thousand people will march south, gather food, and bring it back from areas previously raided by the Ironborn."

"You think the Wildlings will follow you and work that easily?"

"I'll 'accidentally' discover that the Ironborn have taken half the North. Then I'll tell them that if we don't drive out the raiders and get food from the southern lords, we'll starve by winter. At that point, it'll be beyond their control."

"If you want to use the Ironborn invasion to gain favor and food from the northern lords, you'll need to act fast." Maester Aemon coughed weakly and said, trembling, "The latest word from the south is that King Stannis has not retaken Storm's End, but instead defeated the Riverlands army... and this time, it was a true defeat. It's said that even Lord Tarly was struck by a stray arrow while rallying his men and died on the spot."

Mormont frowned. "Does Sam know?"

"No. But it's still a rumor. No body has been sent back, so we can't be sure." The old maester shook his head and continued, "Also, there was news from the Nightfort. Several people tried to sneak in. Three children and a tall simpleton. From the description, they appear to be Bran Stark and the Reed siblings. How should we handle this?"

Bran Stark was intercepted before he could pass the Wall?

Aegor was a little surprised. So the Greenseer wasn't omnipotent after all. But to be fair, Bran's failure to slip past the Wall was largely due to Aegor's own land grant resettlement plan, which had filled the surrounding area with people. Had he once again disrupted the Greenseer's intentions? Would the boy hold a grudge?

He felt uneasy. The Greenseer would not give up easily... and whatever came next, he vowed not to interfere again.

...

Mormont had no idea what lurked behind this troublesome child's attempted escape. Stroking his chin, he made a simple ruling. "Send someone to return him to Winterfell."

The chief ranger interjected, "That can only be done by brothers who know the route. The settlers in and around the Nightfort are all new arrivals. They won't be able to escort anyone safely."

"And the Kingsroad is still plagued by Ironborn. I say we do as we did with Lady Stark—station a watcher over the three children and send a raven to Winterfell. Let them send someone to collect them."

"That's fine. Maester Aemon, I'll leave it to you."

The blind maester nodded faintly. With the weather growing colder each day, his health was clearly declining. He had just relayed two reports, and now he barely had the strength to speak.

Mormont looked around the room and gave a solemn nod. "Alright, this meeting is adjourned. All relevant personnel, return to your posts. Make sure today's Wildlings are evacuated beyond the inner gate as soon as possible... and post patrols to ensure they don't wander."

(To be continued.)