Chapter 494

The greenseer dutifully made his way to Castle Black to assume his new role, and the Red Priest, Machiro, boarded a ship at Eastwatch without complaint to begin his journey across the Narrow Sea. Along the Wall, the vanguard forces preparing to pave the way for the "expedition" stood ready. Meanwhile, the Gift’s main army had assembled in and around Queenscrown.

The stage had been illuminated by bright lights, awaiting the arrival of its protagonist. For Aegor, this should have been the eve of a grand undertaking, a night filled with passion and determination. Yet, since being marked as “R’hllor’s chosen,” the initial thrill of those first days had faded, replaced by a suffocating sense of tedium that he couldn’t seem to escape.

Why?

Imagine dedicating countless hours to crafting a grand plan, believing it to be your ultimate goal, only to discover that it was merely a child’s game in the eyes of a higher power. Imagine fighting tooth and nail to climb to the top, only to realize that all you’d achieved was the privilege of becoming a pawn in someone else’s game. Would you still be brimming with enthusiasm and drive?

Aegor felt like a climber nearing the peak of a mountain, only to look up and see that the summit he had been striving for was merely a hill on the slopes of a far greater peak. Worse still, that greater summit was one he might never reach—might never even be able to attempt.

(Boring. Absolutely fucking boring.)

The emptiness gnawed at him like a restless ghost, robbing him of any passion for his work. Fortunately, while his mind wrestled with this ennui, his hands did not falter. The work continued uninterrupted.

Aegor firmly believed that strength came from two qualities: first, the ability to act rationally against instinct; and second, the ability to identify, adjust, and eliminate useless emotions.

Now, he needed the latter.

As R’hllor had once told him, his current sense of dissatisfaction was nothing more than self-indulgence. Sure, being a pawn was frustrating, but if he let that frustration paralyze him, what about the countless ordinary people who didn’t even qualify to be pawns? Besides, R’hllor had made everything clear: she had given him the freedom to choose, helped him to the fullest extent, and left nothing hidden.

Upon reflection, Aegor realized his frustration wasn’t about being manipulated by R’hllor or losing out on any benefits. On the contrary, his resentment stemmed from the shattering of his illusions. He had thought himself significant, only to realize he was nothing. It was this dissonance between expectation and reality that left him feeling hollow.

That emptiness was a classic example of a useless emotion.

Aegor had yet to reach the summit of the metaphorical “hill” that was Westeros. To despair over an unattainable higher peak now would be both foolish and self-defeating.

R’hllor had appeared in his dreams as the Lord of Light, cruelly dashing any hope of returning home while also robbing him of the passion for the drama unfolding on Westeros’ stage. But so what? No matter how insignificant this mortal struggle seemed compared to the grand battle between the gods of fire and ice, or the pursuit of interdimensional travel, it was still Aegor’s reality. Even if the greater peak was forever out of reach, standing still would achieve nothing.

One must either die or live in the moment.
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Two days after R’hllor’s miracle, as predicted by the greenseer, the queen’s farewell letter arrived at Queenscrown. Written by Daenerys herself, it carried a tone of restrained discontent. The gist was clear: You’re taking too long. I couldn’t wait, so I’ve gone ahead. I hope you’ll keep your promise and join me in the south as soon as you finish your northern affairs.

Clearly, her other two advisors had managed to persuade her to see through Aegor’s manipulation. While she now suspected she had been used, a part of her still clung to the hope that it wasn’t true. Thus, after careful consideration, she had opted for a gentle reminder rather than outright confrontation.

It was a personal letter from the future ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, written by the “most beautiful woman in the world,” her elegant handwriting as stunning as her appearance. A common household might have framed it and hung it on the wall.

Aegor barely skimmed it once before tossing it onto a pile of “handled” correspondence.

He had no intention of “resolving northern affairs,” so the contents of Daenerys’ letter were irrelevant.

“Lyon!” he barked.

The summoned guard quickly entered the room. “Your orders, my lord?”

“Pick four of your most trusted men. The five of you will take ten horses and leave for Last Hearth immediately. Waste no time on the road,” Aegor commanded without hesitation. “Once there, deliver this message to the queen: No matter what, wait another two days. I will head south to explain everything to her myself.”

“Yes, my lord!”

Daenerys was a good queen, but her reliability in execution left much to be desired. Having almost been sabotaged by her once, Aegor had learned his lesson. To ensure the secrecy and success of his expedition, even his supposed liege was kept in the dark about the true battle plan.

Three days later, Aegor would indeed lead his main army south, passing by Daenerys’ temporary residence—but not to offer any explanations. His destination was the heart of the North.
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The requested two days slipped by, and withstanding the queen’s pressure, Aegor’s army had finalized preparations without further delays.

At dawn on the appointed day, three vanguard forces departed from Eastwatch, Castle Black, and the Shadow Tower. Commanding them were Cotter Pyke for the eastern front, Jon Snow for the center, and Jaime Lannister—who had insisted on replacing the original candidate—for the west. Together, the three commanders led a total of six hundred Night’s Watch soldiers, nearly half of the Watch’s entire roster. They marched beyond the Wall to commence the supposed expedition.

As the gates of the Wall’s tunnels groaned shut behind them, the strategic deception aimed at the North and the Seven Kingdoms reached its final act.

For decades, the Gift and the North had operated in a state of near-total openness, with free exchanges of goods, people, and information. Politically and militarily, the Gift often seemed more like a vassal of the North than an independent entity. This dynamic wasn’t accidental; the Night’s Watch relied heavily on the North for resources and recruits. Achieving true independence had always seemed like a pipe dream.

Even after Aegor’s rise to power, he never showed any intention of changing this arrangement. On the surface, the Gift maintained its open borders, welcoming northern traders, messengers, and even spies. This openness served a dual purpose: it allowed Aegor to continue benefiting from the North’s resources while lulling its lords into complacency.

In reality, the spies embedded in the Gift were playing right into Aegor’s hands. Every bit of information they gathered confirmed the same narrative: the Gift’s forces were fully committed to an expedition beyond the Wall. This false narrative was precisely what Aegor wanted them to believe.

Now, with the vanguard forces officially beyond the Wall, the trap was set.

That night, the Gift entered an unprecedented state of lockdown. Every raven capable of flying south was confiscated, every horse commandeered, and all roads south were closed. The last message to reach the North would confirm the expedition’s departure. By the time they realized no further updates were coming, Aegor’s army would already be deep into northern territory, marching straight for Winterfell.
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As dawn broke, the trap was sprung.