Chapter 12

Whatever reasons Benjen Stark had for joining the Night’s Watch, Aegor had to admit that he was a dedicated First Ranger. Upon receiving word via raven that the king would arrive in the North in three weeks, Benjen had stayed at Castle Black for several more days, organizing patrols and fortifying defenses before departing for Winterfell. This delay proved fortuitous, as it allowed Will to return with corroborating testimony about the events beyond the Wall, prompting Benjen to take Aegor along to report directly to the Warden of the North.

Aegor felt a twinge of gratitude for Benjen’s sense of duty. If it were him in Benjen’s position, he would have packed his things and left for Winterfell the same day. Compared to Castle Black, even Winterfell—cold and gloomy by southern standards—was a paradise.

Some people, Aegor mused, were noble beyond reason. He respected Benjen’s sense of honor and responsibility but knew he himself was different. He wasn’t born in this world, had no roots in it, and certainly felt no loyalty to it. To be coerced into swearing an oath under threat of mutilation and then expected to die for it? Aegor was a pragmatic man, not some lofty idealist. Even the most inspiring vow wasn’t enough to tie him to the Wall for life.

Aegor believed he could contribute far more to this world elsewhere, leveraging his knowledge and insights rather than wasting away guarding against White Walkers.

Preparation was everything. This trip to Winterfell was a rare opportunity. Although Will had witnessed the full horrors of Waymar Royce’s death and resurrection, his shaken demeanor and lack of polish made Aegor the more suitable candidate for the task. Will had always been nervous and awkward, speaking with a stammer and an accent. In contrast, Aegor’s clear speech and composed demeanor made him the better choice to represent the Night’s Watch before the Lord of Winterfell.

It also didn’t hurt that Will seemed to have been permanently traumatized by his encounter with the White Walkers.

...

The two set off in the afternoon, traveling south along the Kingsroad through the Wolf’s Wood directly to Winterfell. To save time, they bypassed both Last Hearth and Deepwood Motte, carrying enough supplies to sustain them without stopping. For the sake of speed, each man brought two horses.

Light snow fell from the sky as they rode in silence. The so-called Kingsroad here was barely wider than a forest trail—more a symbolic extension of the great highway than a true road. The actual Kingsroad ended at Winterfell, with the northern stretch little more than a path carved out of the wilderness.

Before long, they approached Mole’s Town. Cresting a low hill, Aegor glanced back over his shoulder.

From this vantage point, the Wall stood in full view, its sheer size awe-inspiring. Although it loomed over Castle Black every day, its immense height and scale often faded into the background of daily life. Living under its shadow, Aegor had grown used to ignoring its presence, as did most brothers of the Watch. But seeing it from a distance reminded him of its monumental significance.

The Wall stretched across the horizon like a vast, pale-blue curtain, its icy expanse uninterrupted save for where it vanished into the foggy edges of the world. The towers and buildings of Castle Black seemed like mere toys scattered at its base, the black-clad sentinels tiny as ants.

In Aegor’s original world, the Wall would have been a top-tier tourist attraction. Visitors would flock to marvel at the massive structure, take selfies at its peak, and enjoy the scenic views. But here, with the White Walkers lurking beyond, the Wall was no symbol of wonder but one of desperation—a line of defense against extinction.

Aegor turned away with a last glance. If all went well, this trip to Winterfell would be his final chance to leave the Wall behind. He had no intention of returning.

...

"Aegor," Benjen Stark’s voice broke the silence. "I know you’re an outsider. I know you resent being forced into the Watch. But I’ll warn you now: don’t even think about desertion. Many before you have tried, and all paid the price."

Aegor’s thoughts jolted to a halt, his guilty conscience startled. "I understand. I have no intention of deserting. I’ve taken my oath, and I intend to keep it until the end of my days."

Benjen studied him for a moment before nodding. "Good. My brother Eddard Stark is a plainspoken man, like most Northerners. But he’s also the Warden of the North and the Lord of Winterfell. Our family’s bloodline traces back to the First Men, and our traditions are ancient. There are certain customs and taboos you should be aware of. Forgetting them won’t cost you your head, but it would be impolite."

"Understood," Aegor said, focusing his attention. He cast one final look at the Wall, then turned away to listen to Benjen’s advice.

...

They traveled by day and rested at night. Passing Mole’s Town and White Harbor, the road widened, and signs of habitation grew more frequent. Though the Watch technically controlled the Gift, the area was largely abandoned due to frequent wildling raids. Villages had emptied as settlers fled south, seeking safety under the protection of Northern lords. This had inadvertently created a buffer zone, making the North itself safer.

Their journey was uneventful, save for a brief encounter with what appeared to be a band of fleeing wildlings. Spotting the black cloaks of Benjen and Aegor, the figures vanished into the woods. Unlike Waymar Royce, Benjen had no interest in unnecessary conflicts and let them go.

As they drew closer to Winterfell, the road grew broader, stone bridges spanned rivers, and fortified farms dotted the landscape. Travelers and merchants began to appear along the way. By the time they reached Winterfell, two weeks later, they had arrived precisely on schedule, just as Benjen had predicted.

...