Chapter 407

Saying that Aegor was pretending was not entirely accurate—he truly had a great deal to do.

With the arrival of the three dragons, the archery tournament’s conclusion and award ceremony had been disrupted. Summoning the entire population of Crown's Rest again just to wrap things up was clearly not worth it, but the event still needed closure. Aegor planned to find time to hold a small-scale supplementary ceremony within the castle to complete the process.

This was not a major issue, but preparations for war were never-ending. The shipment of saltpeter from King’s Landing, though seemingly plentiful, mostly required purification. In the end, the amount of refined high-purity saltpeter was just over a thousand kilograms. Given that it made up the largest proportion of the black powder formula by weight, its consumption was terrifyingly fast. Once large-scale production began, it was quickly depleted in just a few days, ultimately yielding only about four hundred dragon glass explosive bombs. Meanwhile, a surplus of charcoal and sulfur remained.

At this point, Qyburn, whom Aegor had specifically brought back to Crown's Rest, had a new task. The northern climate was not suitable for producing saltpeter, but refining it was unaffected by the weather. As long as he was sent to the various castles and winter settlements in the North to train personnel on-site, they could use the method of extracting saltpeter from soil, then purchase the finished product and transport it back to Crown's Rest. Even if it could not be completed in time for the fight against the White Walkers, it would still be a useful preparation for the future.

Ideally, a single dragon glass explosive bomb could kill wights within a blast radius of over ten meters. As a hidden trump card, its power was already sufficient. The number—over four hundred—sounded immense, considering even the famed "Lightbringer" had only been produced seventy-seven times. However, with the Gift containing twenty-one fortresses in total, that number suddenly seemed far from enough once divided up.

Additionally, dragonsteel arrows, while more symbolic than practical in combat, could not be concentrated solely in Crown's Rest. None of the fortresses along the Wall, aside from Castle Black, had sent representatives to the archery tournament due to the long distances involved, but Aegor wanted news of Lightbringer’s existence to spread throughout the Gift. The best way to do so was to ensure its presence in every stronghold, allowing it to be witnessed firsthand.

Staring at the Gift’s defensive map, Aegor pondered for a long time, gradually finalizing the dragon glass explosive bomb distribution plan he had already roughly outlined. Hardhome, Shadow Tower, Castle Nightfall, and Eastwatch, being the most critical defensive positions, would each receive thirty bombs and two Lightbringers. Among the remaining fortresses, the seven controlled by the mountain clans and the Night’s Watch—those of military value and expected to be defended at all costs in the final battle—would receive twenty bombs and one Lightbringer each. The Great Canyon would also be equipped with some. As for the last nine strongholds, which had been repopulated with new settlers from the Gift, they were not particularly fortified, nor did they have proper staircases leading to the Wall, meaning that in wartime, their occupants would retreat rather than hold their positions. These fortresses would not be allocated resources.

Soon, a large number of valuable military supplies would be transported and distributed along the Wall. While this appeared to scatter their limited stockpile, the Wall itself provided an unexpected advantage: as long as its top remained intact, personnel and supplies could be freely moved along its straight, elevated roadway. Any attack that did not instantly breach a fortress—aside from Hardhome—would essentially be a battle against the entire Wall’s defense network.

After dinner, Aegor received visitor after visitor.

Melisandre came first, inquiring whether Aegor had successfully persuaded the queen to stay. It was unclear whether the followers of R’hllor had some unwritten rule forbidding them from poaching another priest’s "clients" or if each priest was only meant to serve one "Azor Ahai." Though the Red Woman clearly cared greatly about Daenerys’ every move, she refused to take Aegor’s suggestion that she speak to the queen herself. Upon learning that Daenerys had agreed to fight with her dragons, she left satisfied.

Next came Lord Beric Dondarrion of Blackhaven. Despite being Stannis’ vassal, he showed no particular hostility toward the Mother of Dragons, though Aegor did not let his guard down despite Beric’s attitude. When Beric, feigning casual conversation, asked about his discussion with Daenerys, Aegor made up a few harmless lies to brush him off.

The first two visitors had only come to ask a few questions, but as night deepened, Warner Buckwell arrived in a much more secretive manner.

This young noble from the Crownlands, who had defected from Stannis to Renly during the battle for the Red Keep, indeed possessed the qualities that made it clear why he had dared to betray his liege. Even after being stripped of his titles and sent to the Wall, he refused to fade into obscurity. After swallowing Aegor’s promises of a grand future, Warner not only rallied and organized other Crownland nobles who had sided with Renly and faced the same fate, but through his cousin Jarman Buckwell, he had also managed to persuade a significant number of exiled lords—those who had supported House Targaryen during Robert’s Rebellion and had been banished by Robert—to align themselves with Aegor, backing his candidacy for Lord Commander and supporting his reforms.

Warner Buckwell had played a crucial role in securing Aegor’s position, as well as in assisting him with the administration of the Gift.

Beyond his natural ability to navigate politics and build alliances, Warner also proved himself an able military leader. He had handled the suppression of the Thule tribes’ rebellion, conducted patrols to ensure the compliance of new settlers, and swiftly recovered deserters when false alarms arose—all demonstrating his competence. While the logistics department’s common-born soldiers could barely manage as mid- and lower-ranking officers, when it came to independent leadership and strategic ability, they simply could not compare to these noble-born men, raised in environments steeped in command and military tradition, honed through service in the City Watch of King’s Landing.

Tonight, Warner’s visit was not a casual one. He, too, had recognized Daenerys Targaryen’s immense potential and the value of siding with her. To him, the Mother of Dragons was Aegor’s best chance to fulfill his promises to the noble exiles of the Night’s Watch—his best opportunity to lead them out of the Gift and back into the political stage of the Seven Kingdoms.

Warner’s analysis and suggestions were entirely correct, yet after listening to his serious and impassioned speech, Aegor merely laughed.

If he needed Warner to point out something so obvious, how could he claim to be master of the Gift?

"I have already made all the necessary arrangements with the queen," Aegor said, still smiling. "As for the details… with the great enemy at our doorstep, I won’t go into specifics now to avoid distractions. Just be ready. Once this war is won, you will all have your time to shine."

Then, he dropped his smile and spoke more sternly.

"Go back and tell the lords and knights under you—keep your people in check. No one is to bypass me and speak to the queen directly about anything."

The advice and assistance of these exiled nobles had certainly helped Aegor consolidate control over the Gift, but they were not loyal to him out of admiration or devotion—it was purely an alliance of mutual interest.

Aegor lacked manpower and had no choice but to use them, but he also kept a watchful eye on them. Unlike Stannis, who had survived betrayal once, Aegor had no room for error—one act of treachery, and he would be finished.

Aegor had agreed with the queen: she would fight for the Night’s Watch, and in return, the Night’s Watch would support her claim to the Iron Throne.

But if Daenerys learned from other mouths that many within the Watch had already longed to swear fealty to her and shed their black cloaks, it would severely undercut Aegor’s carefully constructed image.

After an exhausting mix of explanations and deflections, Aegor finally sent Warner away, only to be met with yet another visitor.

....

Arya stormed in, her voice sharp even before she had fully stepped inside. “Where’s my sword?”

“No greeting for your teacher?” Aegor looked up and glared at her, letting out a quiet breath through his nose before taking out the Stark girl’s Needle and placing it on the table. “Here’s your sword. But did you understand what I told you today? I don’t want to have to drag you back from outside the tower again!”

“Hmph.”

Arya snatched her sword back, drew it halfway to confirm it was indeed hers, then sheathed it again. She plopped herself down onto the chair opposite Aegor’s desk—the very one Warner had been sitting in just moments earlier—and stared at him intently, eyes bright with energy.

Under such an unwavering gaze, Aegor soon found himself unable to focus on his work. He sighed, put down his pen, and asked, “What now?”

“You weren’t at dinner. Where were you?”

Why did she sound like she was interrogating him? Aegor shrugged. “I didn’t go anywhere. I ate here. If you don’t believe me, ask the guards at the door… or the kitchen staff. I’ll probably be this busy for a while.”

The room did smell faintly of food. Arya bit her lip, but still pressed on. “I went to the lake just now and saw light in the tower! You… you actually let the Mad King’s daughter stay here overnight!”

She was just spending the night, not sleeping with him. Why did she sound like a jealous wife catching her husband in an affair? Fearing she might go stir up more trouble, Aegor had no choice but to explain gently, “She’s my guest now. Have you ever heard of a host refusing to give their guest a place to stay just because they don’t like them?”

“You… You like the Mad King’s daughter, don’t you?!”

“Don’t let your imagination run wild. Didn’t I already explain? Recognizing her as my guest is just to ensure those three dragons fight for us!” Aegor’s expression darkened, and he raised his voice slightly. “If you keep asking these ridiculous questions and wasting my time, I’ll send you back to your room!”

Using the “authority of a teacher” every now and then still had some effect. Having all her accusations refuted with no room for argument, Arya’s fire was quickly snuffed out. Left with nothing to say, she sat there sulking, frustration written all over her face.

She was mad—mad that her parents hadn’t given her a face prettier than the Mad King’s daughter, mad that she was sure her teacher was falling for someone else but had no proof, mad that there wasn’t a single skilled assassin among her guards…

She had already tried and failed to kill Daenerys herself, only to be dragged back to her room. Afterward, she had even asked her own guards to deal with the Mad King’s daughter. But those men—who usually strutted around acting like nothing was beyond the mighty sons of the North—turned into a bunch of cowards the moment she gave the order.

One claimed that their duty was only to protect the two young ladies, not to assassinate enemies.

Another said it was extremely rude to harm a guest under the host’s roof.

Yet another solemnly lectured her on how terrifying dragons were, reminding her that even the ancestors of House Stark had knelt before them.

In the end, not a single one of them would lift a finger. She didn’t know if it was fear or if those dragons had shrunk their balls down to nothing.

Her teacher was about to be stolen away, and all she could do was watch helplessly…

The more Arya thought about it, the more flustered she became. She wanted to ask Myrcella for advice but felt too embarrassed. She was like an ant on a hot pan, spinning in place with no solution. In her panic, she had burst into Aegor’s room and rambled out a mess of nonsense, leaving even herself dizzy from the confusion.

Arya finally dropped her aggressive stance, placed her little sword aside, and lay down on the table, propping her chin on her arms. She tilted her face up and blinked at Aegor.

Spending so much time with Myrcella, she had long since noticed how charming her friend looked when she fluttered her long lashes and batted her big, pretty eyes. Even as a fellow girl, Arya sometimes found herself mesmerized. Now, in a desperate attempt to turn the tide, she decided to imitate Myrcella’s tactics.

Maybe if her teacher thought she was cute, he would forget about the Mad King’s daughter.

Arya’s eyes were indeed large, and when she blinked, she did look rather adorable. Against certain types of men, especially those with particular preferences, this trick might have worked.

But Aegor was completely normal, and right now, he was on high alert, wary of slipping up in any way. How could he possibly guess what was going through Arya’s mind?

Face to face, after being blinked at for half a minute, he finally couldn’t hold back.

“…Are your eyes uncomfortable? Do you need someone to take a look at them?”

“You’re the one with eye problems!”

Arya turned red with anger. She gritted her teeth for a moment, and whatever little reason she had left was finally swallowed up by frustration.

She couldn’t afford any more missteps.

She had to go for the ultimate move.

Suddenly, she jumped to her feet, stomped her way into the bedroom, and disappeared inside.

What the hell is this girl doing now?

Aegor scratched his head, deciding to ignore her. He buried himself in his work again and, after about ten minutes, finally finished processing the document he had been handling.

Closing the file, he realized Arya still hadn’t come out.

A faint sense of unease crept into his heart.

Picking up a lamp, he walked into the bedroom—only to find exactly what he had suspected.

She was gone.

Only the bed remained, with a suspiciously large bulge under the covers.