Chapter 179

Everyone in the courtroom—judge, guards, witnesses, and the accused—all turned to the speaker.

The black cloak was strikingly obvious, and Renly, having seen Aegor during the Vale rebellion, immediately recognized him. In fact, if Aegor hadn’t been arrested by the Hand of the King, he would have been the primary witness today. After a brief moment of surprise, Renly remembered his role as judge. “Ah, it’s our White Walker Slayer, Lord Aegor—permission to speak.”

“I, Aegor West, in my capacity as Chief Logistics Officer and Head Recruiter of the Night’s Watch, hereby reject this man's request to don the black and join the Watch.” The title of Head Recruiter was fabricated, as he had never received such an appointment from Mormont, but his initial certificate from the Commander did delegate recruitment duties to him. If anyone questioned his authority, Aegor would simply invite them to write to the Wall for confirmation.

“The Night’s Watch is an ancient and honorable institution. We do not accept scum who lack even the barest sense of principle or decency!”
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Littlefinger’s betrayal and the second note he orchestrated had taught Aegor the harsh lesson that if you don’t eliminate a threat completely, it will return to haunt you. The conflict with Slynt, sparked by Nina’s ordeal, had driven home just how loathsome it was to make enemies with such vile individuals.

Once in a lifetime was more than enough of that experience.

Let Slynt flee to the Wall, scheming and plotting revenge against Aegor while tormenting Jon Snow? Not a chance! Due to the conflict in the Vale, Aegor already had plenty of enemies at the Wall. Sending someone like Slynt there would be like planting his own gravedigger.

Normally, allowing Slynt to join the Night’s Watch and then arranging for a quiet end might be the safest approach. But that would require immense effort and resources—not to mention that Slynt knew many in the Watch. Any slip-up would lead to endless trouble. After brief contemplation, Aegor decided—this time, he would exact his revenge openly, with no fear of suspicion.

As Chief Logistics Officer of the Night’s Watch and founder of the Night’s Watch enterprise, Aegor didn’t need the hollow titles of mercy and forgiveness. He’d almost died by Slynt’s hand—how could he forgive that so easily?

From the moment he escaped that chaotic night’s assassination attempt, Aegor vowed never to give such petty villains another chance to harm him. He didn’t want to become a villain, but in this cold and ruthless world, only those more cunning and ruthless than their enemies could survive.

Slynt must die—a dead villain is the best kind of villain.
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“We don’t take scum like this!”

Aegor’s voice echoed through the throne room, resonating against the stone pillars and lingering long after he finished speaking.

In the past, if any member of the Night’s Watch had made such a righteous declaration, they would have been met with uproarious laughter—the Night’s Watch was, after all, a dumping ground for society’s refuse. A garbage dump refusing garbage would be an international joke. But today, in this courtroom, at least half of those present had witnessed the wight displayed in the corridor by Eddard Stark. And the man speaking so boldly was the now-legendary “White Walker Slayer,” Aegor West. Times had changed—this declaration on behalf of the Night’s Watch didn’t incite ridicule; instead, it drew applause.

It was only then that Slynt realized Aegor was present in the courtroom, the leader of the victorious faction, the owner of the Night’s Watch enterprise—the bastard in black had come personally to cut off his last escape route. Was he not ashamed?

“Aegor West, damn your ancestors! If I can’t be a Night’s Watchman, I’ll haunt you even as a ghost—mmph—”

A guard, having heard enough, shoved a wad of cloth into Slynt’s mouth, silencing him from further polluting the room with his curses.

“The Night’s Watch fears no demons or ghosts,” Aegor declared, standing tall, his authority as Chief Logistics Officer undiminished by his recent imprisonment. “If you come for me as a ghost, I’ll slay you a second time!”

“Hold on!” Aegor’s retort even drew applause from several men. Just as everyone believed the verdict was sealed, another black-cloaked figure—Ser Alliser Thorne, seated not far to Aegor’s right—stood up. “In all my years, I’ve never heard of a law that says the Night’s Watch can refuse a man’s request to join!”
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Aegor frowned, glancing at his fellow Watchman from Castle Black. He knew Alliser was acquainted with Slynt, but he wasn’t sure of the depth of their relationship. Was this old thorn simply opposing him out of spite, or did he have a genuine bond with Slynt that compelled him to intervene?

“And who might you be?” Renly inquired, curious. During the Rebellion, Renly had been a child hiding in Storm’s End and couldn’t possibly recognize this former City Watch officer, now a master-at-arms at Castle Black.

“Ser Alliser Thorne, my lord.”

“Ah, Ser Alliser.” Renly didn’t truly know him but recognized the name and the Thorne family from the Crownlands. Feigning recognition, he nodded, his lips curling in amusement as he looked between the two Night’s Watchmen with differing opinions. “So tell me, which of you has the final say?”

Who had the final say? Aegor turned to face Alliser, smiling as he asked, “Ser Alliser, what position do you hold within the Night’s Watch?”

“I am the master-at-arms, responsible for training recruits, while Aegor here is the Chief Logistics Officer. Technically, his rank is higher than mine—I won’t dispute that,” Alliser conceded, raising his voice to acknowledge Aegor’s higher rank, cleverly deflecting the power play. “But my question is whether any officer in the Night’s Watch has the authority to refuse a man’s request to join. Rank doesn’t change that.”

(A clever retort, Ser Alliser, but are you sure you want to spar with me?)

Aegor smirked inwardly. Save for Margaery Tyrell, whose illogical yet privileged arguments were impervious to reason, Aegor feared no one in a debate. “Indeed, no law explicitly states that the Night’s Watch can refuse a recruit. However, no law says we can’t either! Where I come from, there’s a saying: ‘What is not expressly forbidden is allowed.’ If the law doesn’t prohibit it, then it permits it!”
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Aegor was engaging in sophistry, banking on Alliser’s limited education and wits. “What is not forbidden is allowed” held logical weight but applied only to individuals. Anyone with basic legal knowledge would know how to counter this—there’s another half to that saying: “What is not authorized is prohibited!”

What is not forbidden is allowed. What is not authorized is prohibited.

These two principles, though seemingly contradictory, govern different contexts. The former protects individuals, while the latter constrains public authority—just as arrests require warrants, searches require warrants, and wars require authorization. Aegor, representing the Night’s Watch, was bound by the latter—without Mormont’s explicit authorization, he had no right to unilaterally reject a recruit.
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In theory, yes. But how many people in this world could quickly untangle this logic and expose Aegor’s fallacy, then launch a counterargument from the correct standpoint? Renly couldn’t, Slynt’s mouth was gagged, and Ser Alliser’s face turned red, struggling to find words to refute. Finally, he sputtered, “There’s no precedent for this—it’s against tradition!”

“No, there is a precedent!” Aegor responded without hesitation. “In the early days of the Night’s Watch, only those skilled in archery, strong in body, and proficient in at least one weapon were accepted. Isn’t that equivalent to rejecting untrained commoners? The Night’s Watch stands guard in the North to defend against wildlings and protect the realm... and look at Slynt—his brutish, vicious nature and feeble, decrepit state. At the Wall, how many brothers would we need just to keep an eye on him? Even if he dared not act recklessly, I ask you—who would be protecting whom?”

“Well said!” Arya clapped and cheered, and no one dared to admonish the Hand’s daughter for disrupting court proceedings.

Ser Alliser’s chest heaved with anger. “You’re pursuing a personal vendetta!”

Indeed, I am! Aegor nearly tore open his shirt to reveal the arrow wound on his shoulder, ready to shout this truth. But instead, he restrained himself, letting a cooler response slip from his lips. “Ser Alliser, mind your words—that’s slander against your superior! Whether I have this authority isn’t for you or me to decide; it’s for Commander Mormont to judge. But since he’s not here, fortunately, the Master of Laws is the highest authority on legal matters in the Seven Kingdoms. Lord Renly, I ask you to make the ruling.”

Renly opened his mouth slightly. Though he was indeed the Master of Laws, his expertise in legal intricacies was lacking. Yet, in Westeros’ feudal system, where the King’s word was law and the Hand absent, the Master of Laws’ decree became the rule. This was a world governed by personal authority.
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Renly pondered, unfamiliar with the Night’s Watch’s customs and history, but he saw no logical flaw in Aegor’s reasoning. Moreover, he was more familiar with Aegor than Alliser and had no desire to spare Slynt. The outcome was clear.

“Very well, I’ll decide.” Renly tapped his fingers on the armrest, pausing briefly before announcing, “The Head Recruiter of the Night’s Watch has the authority to refuse a recruit. The Wall is a shield protecting the realm, not a haven for those fleeing justice! Janos Slynt, having confessed to all charges, I hereby sentence you to death in the name of King Robert. The verdict awaits confirmation by the Hand of the King. If upheld, you will be executed at noon, the day after tomorrow, in the Great Sept of Baelor’s square, as a warning to all.”

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