Chapter 310

The "Giant’s Nest" had no intention of preparing food or drink to entertain the Northern inspection party, nor would the hurried nobles and soldiers have had the patience to enjoy such hospitality even if it were offered. True to form, they mounted their horses and departed within minutes of Robb bidding farewell to the giant leader. Weeks of inspections came to a close as the Northern contingent, several hundred strong, vanished into the swirling snow, their sights set on the distant battlefields of the western coast.

Aegor, who had painstakingly prepared for the inspection in anticipation of scrutiny and questioning, surprisingly found himself relieved that many of his efforts were left unused. Though technically he was an enemy of Euron Greyjoy, Aegor couldn’t help but offer a silent thanks to the madman. This invasion had come at precisely the right time.

Sometimes, an unexpected crisis wasn’t so bad after all.
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Meanwhile, Arya’s earlier display of frustration evaporated the moment her brother disappeared from sight. Her expression morphed into one of barely-contained glee, as if she had shed a cumbersome shroud. Since assuming the mantle of Warden of the North, Robb had become almost unrecognizably stern, his affectionate indulgence replaced by a rigid sense of duty. Every day brought a litany of “don’ts” and “mustn’ts,” and Arya was fed up with his suffocating discipline.

Compared to trudging along on Robb’s military campaign, Arya vastly preferred staying near the Wall, where she could spend time with Aegor and Jon—people she actually liked.

She darted over to Aegor’s side, throwing her arms around his without a second thought—a bold display she would never dare in front of her family.

“Master!” she exclaimed.

“What is it?” Aegor asked, glancing around awkwardly. While he was fond of Arya, there were still Winterfell soldiers lingering nearby, and such an overly familiar gesture might invite gossip.

Arya leaned closer, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “Tell Ser Rodrik that the snowstorm’s too heavy for travel—convince him to let me stay at the Wall for a few more days.”

What on earth did she find so appealing about this frozen wasteland? Aegor chuckled softly, already suspecting the answer. To Arya, the Wall must have seemed like an adventure, a place free from the constraints and watchful eyes of family. It was no wonder she wanted to linger.

Logically, Aegor knew that with his imminent election as Lord Commander and the looming workload, the last thing he needed was to keep an impulsive troublemaker like Arya around. But she had helped him out immensely just days prior, and he had promised to show her the glowing heart tree. A man had to keep his word.

“Your brother left you in Ser Rodrik’s care. What makes you think he’ll listen to me?”

“He absolutely will!” Arya grinned mischievously. “Don’t be fooled by his gruff exterior—Ser Rodrik’s a softie. Just drink with him a bit tonight, spin some tales, and once he’s good and drunk, ask him. He won’t refuse.”

The audacity! She even had a plan laid out for him. Aegor shook his head, impressed but exasperated. Seeing his hesitation, Arya tugged at his arm insistently. “Hey, didn’t you say just the other day that you’d look out for me? Don’t go back on your word!”

“Fine, fine, I’ll give it a shot—but mind yourself in public,” Aegor warned, prying her off as Ser Rodrik approached with a suspicious look. Clearing his throat, Aegor redirected everyone’s focus. “Alright, everyone. Lord Stark’s inspection is over. Let’s get back to Ice Mark before the storm worsens. A warm fire awaits.”
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In this vast, frigid world, everyone had their role to play.

While Robb rushed to Deepwood Motte to lead the defense against the Ironborn, Aegor turned his attention back to his duties at Castle Black. After spending one final night at Ice Mark, he and his men began their return journey to the Wall.

Arya’s request to delay her departure under the pretense of bad weather turned out to be prophetic. The snowstorm did worsen, growing fiercer by the day. Upon reaching the Last Hearth, Aegor fulfilled his promise by accompanying Arya to see the heart tree. However, the weather deteriorated so severely afterward that travel became nearly impossible—especially with a young lady like Arya in tow. With little choice, Aegor extended their stay at the ancient castle, waiting for conditions to improve.

Even in such a storm, ravens continued their tireless work, ensuring communication between the Wall’s fortresses remained uninterrupted. News of Dennis Mallister’s withdrawal from the election sent ripples across the Night’s Watch, like a stone cast into a still pond. Unbeknownst to Aegor, the delay caused by the storm brought unexpected results: he became the first foreign-born Lord Commander in Night’s Watch history—and the first to win the position while absent from the election.

A raven from Sam Tarly at Castle Black carried the final vote count. Thanks to Aegor’s efforts in integrating hundreds of new recruits, the Night’s Watch had reached a fifty-year high of 1,205 members. Of these, 219 abstained from voting—a record-breaking number—leaving 986 valid ballots. Aegor secured 661 votes, surpassing the two-thirds majority by a slim margin, and was officially elected the 998th Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch.

Sam’s letter explained why the election had concluded sooner than expected. From the Shadow Tower, Dennis Mallister had not only withdrawn from the race but also delivered 228 votes to Aegor, with only eight dissenters among his men. This overwhelming show of support both demonstrated Mallister’s control over his garrison and signaled his alignment with Aegor, a move that left little doubt among the Watch.

This decisive endorsement crushed the hopes of Castle Black’s remaining neutral faction, leading them to reluctantly cast their votes for Aegor to end the months-long stalemate.

While grateful for his allies’ efforts, Aegor felt an urgency to take command. The storm showed signs of abating, but he could wait no longer. Leaving Arya behind in the Last Hearth despite her protests, he braved the snow to return to Castle Black with his closest confidants.
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Castle Black welcomed its new Lord Commander with somber formality. The gates swung open for Aegor and his entourage as they entered the familiar stronghold. Yet everything felt different now—this was no longer a place he could view through the same lens as before.

The courtyard was packed with officers and soldiers, many of whom had supported Aegor’s rise. Among the crowd, Melisandre stood out, her enigmatic smile as unnerving as ever. However, Aegor’s attention quickly shifted to more pressing matters: to his surprise, Cotter Pyke and the Eastwatch contingent had not yet departed. The atmosphere in the courtyard was heavy, almost mournful.

“What’s going on? Why the long faces?” Aegor dismounted and approached Jon Snow, who stood at the forefront of the assembly.

“Maester Aemon passed away last night,” Jon said, his tone steady but solemn. Beside him, Sam struggled to contain his grief, his voice quivering as he added, “I didn’t expect it… He was talking to me just the day before. He held on until the election was over, but he didn’t live long enough to offer the new Lord Commander his advice.”

Aegor froze. He had known Maester Aemon’s health was failing—the man was over a hundred years old, after all. But he hadn’t expected to miss Aemon’s final moments because of a detour to see a tree with Arya. Regret surged through him. If there was anyone in the Watch he truly respected, it was Aemon Targaryen, a wise scholar, healer, and mentor to so many. His death was an irreplaceable loss.

A deep, heavy regret settled in his chest.

Looking around at the gathered men, he suddenly lost any interest in following the original plan for his induction.

Frowning, he decided to put everything on hold—Aemon Targaryen deserved that much.

After a long silence, he turned and raised his voice.

"Dismissed!" he announced. "In one hour, we hold a funeral for Maester Aemon. After that, I’ll speak to you all—and issue my first orders as Lord Commander!"

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As the crowd dispersed, Aegor walked toward the residential tower alongside Jon and Sam.

“Did Maester Aemon leave any final messages for me?” he asked.

“Yes,” Sam replied, wiping his eyes. “He urged you not to seek revenge against your opponents and to keep changes in the Watch’s leadership to a minimum. He also left a list of candidates for any positions that must be filled.”

Aegor waved a hand. "Keep the list—I already made my decisions. Anything else?"

“No… that’s all.” Sam sniffled, his face clouded with uncertainty. “What do we do now? I… I still have so much to learn.”

“Figure it out,” Aegor said sharply, startling the young steward. “Or ask for help. Solutions always outnumber problems. Your first task is to write to the Citadel—demand they either send us a reliable replacement or officially recognize you as acting maester. In the meantime, you’ll fill the role. Also, send a raven to Eastwatch, ordering them to cooperate fully with unloading the Iron Bank’s grain shipment. Summon Jaime Lannister back here while you’re at it. That’s all for now. We’ll talk more tonight. Jon, ensure we have enough wood for the pyre. I’ll see you both at the funeral.”

With that, Aegor strode off, ready to pay tribute to the man who had guided so many through the darkness of the Wall—and determined to lead the Watch into a new era.