Chapter 217

In the hall where Aegor had once been interrogated as a deserter and where generations of Night’s Watch commanders had held council, another emergency meeting was underway. Unlike his previous visits to this chamber, Aegor now sat on the raised platform at the front, in the seat to the left of Lord Commander Mormont, the position reserved for the fifth-ranking officer of the Watch: the Chief Logistician. For the first time, he looked down upon the sea of black-clad officers and soldiers of Castle Black.

Among the crowd were nobles and knights from the Vale who had been exiled to the Wall by King Robert after their rebellion. Though they held mid-level positions in the rangers, they could only sit quietly at the lower tables during this full assembly. No matter how much they despised Aegor, there was little they could do against someone of higher rank. The contrast to King’s Landing—where Aegor had always been outmaneuvered by political rivals—was striking. Here, potential enemies were powerless against him, and the situation was entirely under his control. It was a heady feeling.

“I’ve been fully briefed on what happened at Castle Black during my absence,” Mormont began, clearing his throat. “I want to thank all of you for holding our stronghold during the rangers’ absence. However, the purpose of this meeting is not just to commend those who fought in the recent battle but to discuss an important matter: how we should prepare for the wildlings’ next assault.”
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“The two jars of wildfire the Chief Logistician brought to Castle Black achieved remarkable results,” the First Steward remarked, turning toward Mormont. “If we could secure a steady supply of this substance, the wildlings wouldn’t be able to approach the Wall.”

The Master Builder agreed. “If we run out of wildfire, sufficient quantities of pitch and lamp oil could produce a similar effect.”

“Bowen, Othell, you’re missing the point,” Maester Aemon interjected, coughing softly. “The Lord Commander isn’t just talking about defending Castle Black’s gate but the entire Wall.”

Mormont nodded, acknowledging Aemon’s clarification. “Some of you may have noticed that I didn’t bring all the rangers back from Eastwatch. That’s because, just before and after the attack on Castle Black, Eastwatch also came under heavy assault by wildlings—far greater in number than what we faced here. Fortunately, our port has stone walls and fortifications built decades ago to defend against sea raiders, and it wasn’t attacked from the north simultaneously. Thanks to the combined efforts of the brothers stationed there and the rangers’ counterattacks, the assault was repelled, though we suffered over a dozen casualties. To strengthen Eastwatch’s defenses, I left twenty rangers there and only brought back half of the men.”

Mormont then turned to Ser Jaremy Rykker. “Jaremy, report on the situation west of Castle Black.”

“Reports of wildling activity are coming from all over,” Jaremy said grimly. “Harma Dogshead was spotted near Deep Lake, Rattleshirt near the Nightfort, and The Weeper near Icemark. Wildlings have been seen all along the Wall. They climb near Queen’s Gate one day and attack Greyguard the next. But whenever we send men to respond, they retreat, only to reappear elsewhere the following day. Thankfully, the Shadow Tower garrison followed your orders and held their positions; otherwise, the western end of the Wall might have already fallen. Mance’s goal is clearly to divide our forces, and he’s come dangerously close to succeeding.”

Under Mormont’s cautious leadership, the Wall had withstood the first wave of wildling assaults. But the Lord Commander showed no signs of relief. “This is the state of the Wall,” he continued. “We are in a dire situation. The number of wildlings who have crossed into the Gift likely already exceeds the total strength of the Night’s Watch. Though their lack of training and poor equipment has prevented them from posing an immediate threat, they are now roaming the Gift freely. We cannot ignore them, yet we lack the manpower to stop them. The Night’s Watch must protect the Gift and defend the Wall, but we are so stretched thin that we can’t even patrol our own lands south of the Wall. If we don’t find a solution, our watch may end before this winter is over.”
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“The Night’s Watch alone cannot solve this crisis,” Aegor spoke up. “We must seek aid from the king and the Warden of the North. The war in the South has ended; King Stannis is sure to march north to support us.”

“I’ve sent ravens to every corner of the realm,” Aemon replied, his tone as calm as ever. “But the news they bring is troubling. Storm’s End has been seized by an unidentified army. Its occupiers have raised the banner of the Targaryens, claiming to be Rhaegar’s son. The Reach has recognized his claim and allied with him. I fear King Stannis will march south to reclaim his ancestral seat before he turns his attention to us.”
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Damn it. What’s this now? Aegor’s heart sank. Another unplanned variable had thrown everything into chaos. Since returning to Castle Black, he had come to understand the state of the Watch: the absence of the two hundred rangers who had perished on the Great Ranging had eased their defensive burden somewhat, but it only bought them a few more days. Without outside aid, this war—one thousand men against ten thousand—would inevitably end with the wildlings breaching the Wall and pouring into the North. If that happened, all of Aegor’s plans and efforts would be for nothing.

“What about the northern lords?” he asked. “Surely they can spare some men?”

“It’s the last harvest before winter,” Bowen Marsh replied. “Even if they have men to spare, they’re all busy bringing in the crops. No one can afford to send support right now.”

This is a disaster. Aegor clenched his teeth. He had come north to Castle Black because he saw the wildlings as a vast, untapped labor force. Whenever he stood atop the Wall and gazed out at the Haunted Forest, what his fellow brothers saw as enemies, he saw as the cheapest and most abundant manpower in the world. But these people wouldn’t simply submit to him because he waved them over and promised kindness. To subdue the wildlings, he needed to crush them with overwhelming military force before gradually bringing them to heel.

But now, Stannis Baratheon—the man who had once declared, “I must save the realm to claim the throne”—was preoccupied with consolidating his rule and couldn’t come to their aid. How ironic.
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“Then what about Lord Eddard Stark?” Aegor pressed. “As Warden of the North, he can’t possibly ignore the threat to his own lands.”

“The northern army is marching south with Stannis,” Aemon replied. “Ravens can fly, but northern men cannot. Even if they win the war and return immediately, they won’t reach the Wall in less than a month. And we won’t last that long.”

Aegor’s carefully laid plans unraveled before his eyes. He furrowed his brow, desperately searching for a way to break the stalemate.
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Jon Snow stood. “We should negotiate with the wildlings and reach an agreement—open the gates, let them through, and have them abide by our laws. We share a common enemy, and in the coming winter, the Wall will need every living soul to stand against it.”

“Let the wildlings through the Wall?” A voice immediately rose in protest. “Snow, you’ve been bewitched by that wildling harlot of yours, haven’t you?”

Jon ignored the accusation and looked directly at the senior officers seated at the front of the hall. “Lord Commander, we captured several wildlings during the assault on Castle Black. One of them has agreed to disclose Mance Rayder’s plans, but she insists on speaking before the entire Watch.”

“She?” someone sneered. “Let me guess—she wasn’t persuaded but seduced.”

“Enough!” Mormont slammed his hand on the table, silencing the room. “Bring her in.”
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The hall was packed with hundreds of brothers, their voices buzzing with conversation. Jon left and returned minutes later with the captive—a wildling woman in shackles.

Every eye turned to her.

Ygritte was nothing like her actress counterpart from the television adaptation. She had an ordinary, round face, a wide nose, and uneven teeth. Her bright red hair and striking blue-gray eyes added a touch of charm, but in Castle Black, where women were rare, even her average looks far surpassed those of the mole women from Mole’s Town. Many of the men stared at her with undisguised interest.

Mormont studied the wildling woman before speaking. “What’s your name?”

“Ygritte.”

“Very well, Ygritte. Jon says you’re willing to reveal Mance Rayder’s plans. Is that true?”

“Yes.”

“You insisted on speaking in front of everyone. Nearly all of Castle Black is here. Go ahead.”
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(There’s something off about this.) Aegor observed Ygritte closely and quickly sensed something was amiss. He had assumed Jon’s connection with Ygritte was destined—that the boy’s naïve charm had somehow convinced her to betray Mance. But her expression betrayed none of the guilt or submission one might expect from someone giving up her leader’s plans. Instead, she radiated defiance, standing tall like a martyr before her executioners.

If Aegor hadn’t known better, he might have suspected Ygritte was about to pull a hidden weapon and take as many of them down with her as possible.
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Ygritte scanned the room, ensuring that nearly every brother was present, then lifted her chin proudly and spoke. “You crows can’t hold the Wall. If I were you, I’d throw open the gates, strip off these black rags, and surrender to Mance Rayder while you still have the chance.”

Mormont raised a hand, silencing the murmurs of anger spreading through the room. His face darkened as he stared at the wildling. “I recall you were here to reveal Mance Rayder’s plans. If you continue wasting our time, I’ll have you thrown back into the ice cells. And this time, you won’t get furs.”

The threat seemed to work. Ygritte hesitated, swallowing whatever retort she had been about to make. “I’ll admit,” she finally said, exhaling loudly in mock disdain, “you crows fight better than I expected. But don’t think for a moment you can stop the Free Folk. You’re too few, and we’re too many. This assault on Castle Black was only a test. Mance told us before we left: if this attack failed, he wouldn’t waste time on another. Instead, he’d send ten thousand men to the eastern coast, build rafts, and cross the Bay of Seals to flank Eastwatch. Another ten thousand will travel west, cross the Gorge, and attack the Shadow Tower from the south. The rest, along with the mammoths, will spread out and dig through the blocked gates of the abandoned castles, breaching the Wall at multiple points. When that happens, you’ll be overwhelmed, no matter how well you fight.”

“Half of those ten thousand will drown in the Bay of Seals, and half of the other ten thousand will die falling into the Gorge,” a voice retorted.

Ygritte sneered. “I’m no good with numbers, but even if half of them die, the survivors will still number ten thousand—and they’ll be behind your Wall.”

“An impressive plan, if it can be executed flawlessly,” Mormont said evenly, showing no sign of being provoked. “So why hasn’t it started yet? With your numbers, you could assault Castle Black while simultaneously breaching the Wall elsewhere. It shouldn’t be difficult.”

“Mance hopes you’ll realize you can’t win and send someone to negotiate,” Ygritte replied with a smirk. “In exchange, the King Beyond the Wall promises to spare the lives of every crow. I doubt you’ll consider it, but you should. If you’re interested, I can deliver a message for you—”

“Enough of this nonsense!” Donal Noye roared, standing abruptly and flinging a cup of water at the wildling woman. “As long as one brother of the Night’s Watch still breathes, the wildlings will never cross the Wall and set foot on our land!”

“Our land?” Ygritte dodged the water and shrieked angrily. “The Free Folk have lived here for generations. You came north, built your Wall, and locked us out. And now you claim the land south of it as yours? Who’s the thief here?”

“Silence!” Aegor snapped, his voice cutting through the rising clamor. His sudden show of authority silenced the room before the argument could escalate further.

No wonder Ygritte had agreed so readily. She hadn’t come to confess Mance’s plans—she was here to taunt and intimidate them. Unfortunately, the wildlings had the numbers to back up their arrogance. Aegor had once planted the idea of negotiating with the wildlings in Jon’s mind, hoping to eventually recruit them, but Ygritte’s provocation had made that impossible for now.

With Stannis unable to provide aid, Aegor’s focus had to shift to defense. “Ygritte,” he said, his tone sharp, “I have a question for you. Why are your camps so close to the Wall? Does it have anything to do with the Others?”

“We call them white walkers,” Ygritte replied without hesitation. “Yes, the Free Folk camp near the Wall because we’ve found that the closer they get to it, the weaker they become. So far, they haven’t come within a league of the Wall, and their wights rarely appear either.”

Another suspicion confirmed. Aegor couldn’t help but feel relieved. Had the proximity to the Wall contributed to his ability to kill the white walker he had encountered?

“Let me guess,” Aegor continued. “You’re not digging through the Wall because it would take too long. The Wall’s base is over a hundred feet thick, with stone foundations. First, you’d have to find the sealed gates, then spend weeks digging through frozen tunnels as solid as rock. All the while, the Watch would harass you, delaying the work indefinitely. But as winter deepens, the Others are growing stronger. Soon, not even the Wall’s influence will stop them from attacking your camps. Am I wrong?”

Ygritte glared at him, her silence betraying his accuracy. After a moment, she snorted dismissively. “You crows think you know so much.”

“I know enough to see that while you have the numbers, time is on our side.” Aegor smirked, snapping his fingers. “If you have no more useful information, Jon, take her away.”
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