Chapter 36

"What?" Jon couldn't follow Aegor's train of thought.

"We of the Night's Watch exist to fend off wildling raids and the threat of the White Walkers. Tell me, which is better: tirelessly keeping enemies outside the Wall or destroying them outright?"

Jon's eyes widened as the meaning of Aegor's words sank in.

"Imagine this," Aegor continued. "If someone could lead the Watch to eliminate both the living and undead threats once and for all, leaving no danger north of the Wall, what purpose would the Wall or the Night's Watch serve? Thousands of years of tradition, where brothers die and others proclaim 'his watch has ended'—why has no one stood up to say, 'our watch has ended,' after eradicating the threats entirely? At that point, the Watch could disband, its brothers returning home as heroes greater than Azor Ahai himself. Isn't that a glorious dream?"

"That... that’s impossible," Jon stammered, his pupils dilating in disbelief. "How would you even begin to accomplish that?"

"White Walkers are humanity's natural enemy. Show them no mercy. Kill every one of them that dares appear. If possible, press further into the Land of Always Winter, find their lairs, and eradicate them at the source." Aegor made a decisive gesture, one that conveyed the finality of his vision. "As for the wildlings? As Tyrion puts it, they’re just people who happen to live north of the Wall. They cherish freedom, which I admire, but absolute freedom doesn’t exist. Convince them of that truth, bring them under control, and integrate them."

The soon-to-depart ranger spoke with enthusiasm, letting his long-harbored thoughts flow freely. Jon listened intently, his focus unwavering. Even Tyrion, who usually interjected with witty remarks, remained silent, clearly fascinated. The dwarf found himself increasingly impressed by his adventurous companion, whose bold ideas seemed to border on madness yet carried undeniable logic.

"The Night’s Watch doesn’t produce anything of its own," Aegor pressed on. "We pour resources into maintaining a massive, mostly useless structure while feeding thousands of men who contribute nothing to society. If we were to eliminate the White Walkers and wildlings, not only would we free hundreds of men tied to the Watch, but we’d also add tens of thousands of people to the North’s population. Can you imagine how that would elevate the North’s standing among the Seven Kingdoms?"

Jon, raised in the Stark household, understood the North’s precarious position within Westeros. If Aegor’s vision came to pass, the power dynamics could shift dramatically. And with that, perhaps his own place within the family would change. Maybe, just maybe, Lady Catelyn Stark might soften toward him.
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"But you can’t accomplish any of that as just another soldier," Aegor abruptly shifted his tone, snapping Jon out of his daydream. "If you want to make a difference, you need to rise to a position of influence. Becoming Lord Commander would be ideal. But the Night’s Watch is an institution based on elections. If you remain content with winning a few sparring matches against untrained recruits, you’ll never gain the respect of brothers, friends, or allies. Without those, you’ll never succeed here."

"I... I never thought about becoming Lord Commander."

"Really?" Aegor's tone softened. "A soldier who doesn’t aspire to command isn’t a good soldier. As Eddard Stark’s son, you shouldn’t lack ambition. And from a broader perspective, only those with power and resources can change the world for the better. Power isn’t inherently evil—it’s a tool. In the hands of someone willing and capable of using it wisely, it can bring about positive change."

Jon fell silent, mulling over Aegor’s words. The gravity of the conversation weighed heavily on him. Even Tyrion seemed lost in thought, his expression distant.

"If you’re determined to leave before taking your oath, we can travel south together in a few days. But if you plan to stay—if you’re willing to embrace the Watch for what it is—then think carefully about what I’ve said." Aegor’s voice carried finality. "The choice is yours."
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"You’re quite the dream-spinner," Tyrion remarked with a smirk after the two left the armory. "That boy’s eyes lit up like wildfire. Greater than Azor Ahai, you say? Truly inspired."

"I’d love for him to succeed," Aegor replied with a chuckle. "Picture this: I’m in King’s Landing or somewhere else, working tirelessly to gather resources for the Watch, thinking my dull, thankless life will never change. Then one day—boom!" He mimed an explosion. "The Night’s Watch fulfills its mission, disbands, and I’m free. Isn’t that a marvelous thought? Far-fetched, yes, but dreams are worth having."

Tyrion laughed heartily. Few things delighted him more than clever banter. It wasn’t often he encountered someone who could match his wit. "Sometimes I wonder," he said between chuckles, "if your so-called ‘adventurer’s charm’ has been manipulating me all along. Was I lured into helping you by your artful words?"

"And if I said yes?" Aegor asked with a sly grin. "Would you kill me?"

"Of course not," Tyrion replied, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. "I’d drag you to my father, have you convince him of all the benefits of naming me his heir, and see if your silver tongue can work miracles."

"That might be a challenge," Aegor admitted. "But according to Westerosi customs and laws, aren’t you already the rightful heir to Casterly Rock?"

"Ha! My father would sooner hand Casterly Rock to my sister than to me." Tyrion’s tone turned somber. "Let’s not dwell on impossibilities. Such talk could get us both killed."

"Fair enough," Aegor conceded. "So, tell me—aside from Benjen Stark’s predictable hostility, how did the negotiations with the Lord Commander and Maester Aemon go?"

"Hostility?" Tyrion snorted. "I’m the Queen’s brother, and yet your First Ranger treated me like a leper. But your Lord Commander? The moment I mentioned supplies, he smiled wider than the brothels of King’s Landing during a gold rush. He only frowned when I introduced conditions."

"And Maester Aemon?"

"A reasonable man. Convincing him wasn’t difficult. Benjen, however..." Tyrion’s lips curled into a wry smile. "Let’s just say he’s not fond of Lannisters. Still, even he couldn’t refuse the prospect of additional resources for the Wall. A bit of haggling later, and voila—you’re free. Consider yourself lucky, Aegor. Your price wasn’t as high as it could’ve been."

"Should I be flattered or insulted by that?" Aegor feigned disappointment.

Tyrion chuckled. "Oh, trust me, being ‘cheap’ isn’t always a bad thing. Just ask my brother. If he had been sent to the Wall, even selling Casterly Rock wouldn’t have covered the cost of his release."