Chapter 244

The basket was nothing like the winch cage, which was connected to pulleys and other mechanisms. It relied entirely on manual effort to pull it up. The moment Jaime jumped in, a few wights climbed onto the basket as well, gripping its frame. The combined weight of a man and several wights strained the rope dangerously, nearly dragging the soldiers on the Wall's summit holding the other end down with it. In a critical moment, Jaime swung his sword one-handed, severing the rope that secured the basket. He then decisively discarded his weapon and gripped the rope with both hands, climbing half a meter upward. He narrowly avoided the massive hand of a giant wight that had reached the Wall and was attempting to grab him, successfully escaping the tide of the dead.

Whether it was exhaustion or sheer luck, the White Walker lurking at the edge of the Haunted Forest refrained from using ranged attacks on Jaime as he ascended the rope. For over ten minutes, he swayed in the biting cold wind, colliding countless times with the icy Wall before finally climbing to the summit from the northern side for the first time.
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"Ah—" Jaime exhaled heavily, his body stiff from the icy wind after sweating through a grueling battle. He collapsed to the ground, taking a long moment to regain his senses before thanking those around him.

"Don’t speak yet. Someone give him a blanket and get him to the shelter below. We’ll talk later." Aegor barely managed to convince Mormont to leave the edge of the Wall. "Keep tossing barrels of oil! Don’t let the White Walkers turn our fallen brothers into more wights!"

"But, my lord, our reserves are running low—"

"Follow the order! Use up all the oil barrels if you have to! Once we’re out, switch to wildfire immediately. This is the first time the wights have come this close to the Wall. If we don’t kill as many as we can now, we’ll regret it later!" Aegor had already made up his mind. As soon as this was over, he planned to inform Eastwatch-by-the-Sea to distribute the wildfire sent from King’s Landing to every fort along the Wall. The war between the living and the dead seemed to be starting earlier than anticipated. "Commander, I suggest doubling the number of sentries on the Wall starting today. And under no circumstances should anyone lean against the edge. Someone help carry Ser Jaime away!"
----


With no need to worry about injuring living people, barrels of oil ignited freely, blazing amidst the densest clusters of wights at the iron gate. The flames ravenously consumed the icy puppets of the Cold God and the corpses on the ground that had yet to rise. Once the last living human on the battlefield was gone, the army of the dead retreated under remote command, withdrawing far from the Wall.

It had been a brutal and senseless battle, with no tactics to speak of. The White Walkers successfully prevented the last group of wildlings from safely crossing the Wall, sowing chaos within Castle Black. Yet, there were also things for humanity to be thankful for: although the Wall's only mage had been tricked into revealing herself, she had survived an unthinkably long-range assassination attempt. The army of the dead had suffered heavy losses under the Night's Watch's bombardment, and while the White Walkers had technically "won" the skirmish, their numbers had not grown since before the battle.

The remaining wights retreated into the Haunted Forest, ending the fight. However, the problems the White Walkers had created for the Night's Watch were far from resolved. Castle Black was now crammed with wildlings—children crying out for their parents, women desperately searching for their husbands, and men angrily demanding to know why the "crows" had lowered the gate early, cutting off the escape route for their kin.

Previously, the Night's Watch had ensured the wildlings complied—disarming them, surrendering food and livestock, and accepting their terms—by maintaining a numerical and military advantage over each new wave of "free folk settlers." But now, the number of dissatisfied, angry, or confused wildlings in Castle Black far exceeded the combined strength of the Night's Watch and the hill tribes. And this unruly crowd clearly had no intention of obeying orders.

"Get them outside Castle Black’s gates first. We can’t regain control of the fortress until they’re out. If there aren’t enough men, pull another hundred from the Queen’s Gate," Aegor commanded.

Jon scanned the wildlings, packed tightly together, hesitating. "But these people fled in such a hurry. They didn’t bring enough food, and many have just lost family members. Should we still stick to the plan?"

"The key isn’t forcing them to surrender all their belongings but teaching them to use currency, integrating them into the social structure of the Gift. That way, we can manage them with the least effort. Understand? Even if they’ve lost most of their possessions while fleeing and even if many have just lost loved ones outside the gate, the plan cannot change. Otherwise, the losses will only grow." Aegor shook his head. "Now go and handle it immediately. Don’t let this escalate. I have a meeting with the Commander."
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“How many brothers were on duty in the lower enclosure today?”

“Thirty. Ten came inside when the Commander opened the gate to guide the wildlings. Of the remaining twenty, only Ser Jaime survived.”

That was already a stroke of luck, but not everyone saw it that way. “Nineteen brothers lost! And for what? Over two thousand mouths to feed? They fled so quickly they didn’t even bring all their food!” Bowen Marsh fixed Aegor with a sharp glare. The First Steward was a staunch conservative among the Night’s Watch leadership and had long resented Aegor’s radical plans. With this catastrophe, Marsh finally had grounds to attack him.

But Aegor had no intention of backing down.

“Lord Marsh values the lives of those nineteen brothers over the thousands of free folk who will become settlers. Such touching camaraderie, I dare not oppose. But as the First Logistics Officer, I prefer to measure events by numbers. We lost nineteen brothers but gained nearly three thousand settlers. Even if only one percent of them can fight, that more than makes up for our losses.” Aegor added, “And I’m sure you’ve all heard of spearwives.”

“Yes, wildling women can fight. Among three thousand, perhaps a thousand could take up arms. I concede that when the White Walkers attack the Wall, they’ll likely fight alongside us. But what if they riot in Castle Black today or ally with the scattered wildlings in the forest to attack us? Then what?”

“We’ve already discussed how to prevent such scenarios. That responsibility falls to me,” Aegor replied with a shrug. “Keep Mance Rayder and his family under control, scatter any potentially unifying tribes... and establish a complete social system to govern them. Within six months, they’ll be as obedient and hardworking as any farmer in the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Enough arguing,” Mormont interjected, cutting off the debate. “I’ve chosen Aegor’s plan. It’s too late to go back now. Have the wildlings been cleared from the castle?”

“Jon is handling it.”

“What’s the plan for them?”

“They’ll be temporarily housed outside Castle Black, in the ruins of Mole’s Town. Once reinforcements arrive from the Queen’s Gate and Greyguard, we’ll surround their settlement and force them to go through the same process as the previous groups.”

“You’ve noticed, haven’t you? This group brought far less food than the earlier ones. It’s worsening our supplies. How do we address that?”

“We move to phase two of the plan early—teaching the settlers to ‘earn a living’ in ten to twenty days,” Aegor replied. “Then I’ll organize a major supply operation. Two to three thousand people will head south into the North, reclaiming food from areas raided by the Ironborn.”

“The wildlings won’t follow you that easily.”

“I’ll ‘discover’ the Ironborn occupying half the North once we’re there and tell them—if we don’t drive these raiders out and secure the food, we’ll starve come winter. At that point, they’ll have no choice.”

“If we want to use the Ironborn invasion as an opportunity, we need to act fast,” Maester Aemon wheezed. “News from the south says King Stannis failed to retake Storm’s End and suffered a crushing defeat against the Reach army. It’s said Lord Tarly was killed by a stray arrow while rallying the rout.”

Mormont frowned. “Does Sam know?”

“No, and this is unconfirmed. We haven’t received the body,” Aemon replied. “There’s more. Word from the Nightfort says they caught some people trying to sneak into the fortress—three children and a large simpleton. From the descriptions, it must be Bran Stark and the Reed siblings. What should we do?”

Bran Stark? Stopped before crossing the Wall?

Aegor was surprised. It seemed the Greenseer wasn’t all-knowing after all. Strictly speaking, Bran’s failure to cross the Wall was due to the settlement plan that had filled the area with people. Had this inadvertently disrupted the Greenseer’s plans? Would he hold a grudge?

Unease crept over him. Whatever the Greenseer’s next move, Aegor resolved not to intervene further.
----


Mormont, unaware of the broader implications of Bran’s failed journey, quickly made his decision. “Send them back to Winterfell.”

The First Ranger reminded him, “That’ll require a ranger familiar with the route. The Nightfort is full of settlers now. They won’t be able to safely escort anyone.”

“And the King’s Road is still plagued by Ironborn raids. Like with Lady Stark before, keep the children safe, send word to Winterfell, and let their family retrieve them.”

“Fair enough. Maester Aemon, take care of it.”

The blind maester nodded. As the days grew colder, his health seemed to deteriorate further. After delivering the news, he appeared too weak to even speak.

Mormont glanced around the room, his expression grave. “That’s all for today. Dismissed. Relevant personnel, oversee the dispersal of the wildlings beyond the Wall and ensure they’re under patrol surveillance to prevent any trouble.”