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Chapter 386
🕑 Added 2025-01-29 12:40:42 +0000 UTCHearing these reports, Aegor felt both relieved and burdened.
He was relieved because the enemy had not realized that the human forces’ supreme commander had risked leaving the front lines, leaving the Gift temporarily leaderless. If they had launched an all-out assault instead of these probing maneuvers, the Gorge could have already fallen, the Gift destroyed, and the dead would now be marching southward toward Winterfell to begin the Seven Kingdoms' doom.
But his relief was short-lived, as the news underscored the troubling ingenuity of the Night King’s tactics. These nightly disruptions were not random; they were a calculated exploitation of the undead army’s lack of fatigue, fear, or morale, forcing the human defenders into an exhausting, resource-draining war of attrition.
Aegor had always known the Gorge would be a weak point, but its strategic value was undeniable. Beyond serving as an early warning system to prevent the enemy from bypassing the Wall and assaulting the North undetected, the Gorge’s natural defenses offered a chance to inflict significant casualties on the undead. By positioning 10,000 troops there, along with nearly half the Gift’s stockpile of dragonglass and wildfire, he hoped to turn the terrain into a deadly bottleneck, ensuring the Night King would have to pay dearly for any advance.
In theory, the plan was sound. Even if the Night King broke through, the cost would be tens of thousands of wights—a critical blow to the enemy’s forces. Such losses would dramatically ease the pressure on the Night’s Watch in subsequent battles.
But the Night King wasn’t playing by Aegor’s rules. Instead of launching a full-scale assault, the undead were using small-scale, nightly raids to harass the defenders, destroy weirwoods, and exhaust the Gift’s resources and morale.
This tactic—sending hundreds or thousands of wights across the frozen Milk River each night to die beneath the defenders’ feet—would be unthinkable for a normal army. The psychological toll on the attacking forces would outweigh any gains. But the dead had no morale to break, no exhaustion to endure, and no regard for losses.
For the defenders, the dilemma was clear: to eliminate the wights in the dark required wasting valuable resources. Ignoring them, however, created the constant tension of “crying wolf.” If the defenders grew complacent, one night’s feint could suddenly become a real attack—and by then, it would be too late.
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“The most critical task right now,” Aegor said, his voice steady as he tapped the table to refocus the room, “is determining the enemy’s true objective. Are the White Walkers genuinely afraid of the weirwoods, to the point they won’t cross the Gorge until the trees are eradicated? Or is this a feint, designed to exhaust our defenses? We must also consider a third possibility: could this all be a diversion, meant to tie up our forces in the Gorge while the main army bypasses the Wall to launch a surprise attack elsewhere?”
Warner Buckwell nodded. “We’ve considered that possibility, my lord. Two days ago, we disregarded Stark’s warning and took the risk of sending a skinchanger to scout north of the Wall. The one assigned to the Gorge segment lost control of his eagle. The bird never returned, and the man himself has gone mad. He’s currently under lock and key at the Shadow Tower. The other skinchangers believe he may recover, but there’s no telling how long it will take.”
Losing a trained eagle was no small matter; obtaining one that could be controlled by a skinchanger was a rare and arduous process. Aegor sighed. “At least this confirms one thing: the Night King is still on the other side of the Gorge. Stop sending skinchangers into that area—it’s not worth the risk. Focus their scouting efforts along the rest of the Wall instead. The cost is steep, but it’s a risk we can’t avoid.”
“Understood, Lord Commander. I’ll send the order to all fortresses along the Wall immediately,” Warner replied.
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Aegor’s reasoning was straightforward: unless the Night King was capable of operating independently of his undead army, the presence of skinchanger losses would pinpoint the enemy’s location. So long as aerial reconnaissance continued, it would be nearly impossible for an army of tens of thousands of wights to relocate unnoticed. If losses occurred elsewhere along the Wall, it would at least serve as an early warning for the defenders to raise their vigilance.
“The Gorge already holds as many troops as I’d planned,” Aegor continued. “The narrow, treacherous paths along the cliffs limit how many soldiers can effectively fight there. The Wall’s protection against the forces of the Cold God takes precedence over any single battle or territory. No matter how dire the situation, do not withdraw forces from the Wall’s defenses to reinforce the Gorge. That is non-negotiable. Beyond that, do whatever it takes to support the front line’s needs. Let the departments in the Gift coordinate with their requests as best they can.”
He took a deep breath, scanning the room. “Is there anything else we need to address immediately?”
“Yes,” Yarm said, hesitating before glancing at his colleagues. “The false alarm that night revealed significant issues. When the beacon fires were lit, the Gift entered your highest state of alert, but the ensuing chaos exposed many weaknesses. In the outer district of Crown's Rest, riots, brawls, and at least half a dozen rape cases occurred. Looting was rampant, and a group even attempted to storm the inner keep. When we interrogated the ringleader, he claimed they intended to ‘rescue’ Mance Rayder, the King-Beyond-the-Wall, believing he could lead us against the dead after you supposedly fled.
“The most absurd part,” Yarm added bitterly, “was someone freezing to death in the lake outside town. We still can’t determine if he was forced into the ice or thought hiding beneath the frozen surface would protect him from the White Walkers.”
“Similar incidents occurred across other strongholds along the Wall,” Warner interjected grimly. “Crown's Rest suffered the worst, but we recorded over a dozen deaths caused by internal disorder that night. When we investigated the following day, we hanged more than ten ringleaders in Crown's Rest alone. Many admitted they acted out of despair, convinced by rumors that you had abandoned us and that the war was already lost.”
“Have you identified the source of these rumors?” Aegor asked, his expression darkening.
“No, my lord,” Warner admitted. “These weren’t deliberate fabrications—it was a natural consequence of your absence. People saw you leave, and their fears spiraled into speculation. There’s no single person to hold accountable.”
“One of the southern clans assigned to Crown's Rest’s outskirts also disobeyed orders,” Yarm added. “When the beacons were lit, they abandoned their post and fled south along the Kingsroad, hoping to reach warmer lands. They didn’t stop to consider how a group of over a hundred, including women and children, could possibly pass unnoticed through the North. If I hadn’t personally led a cavalry detachment to bring them back, they’d likely have been killed by the Umbers before even seeing a White Walker. The clan chief is in the dungeons now, awaiting your decision.”
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