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Chapter 334
🕑 Added 2025-01-29 12:23:35 +0000 UTCBeing a ruler was no easy task, especially when ruling a place like the Gift, where the population was diverse and the problems seemingly endless. Apart from the Night’s Watch workers Aegor had recruited from the South—who were notably loyal to him—the rest of the Gift’s population was rife with complaints about him.
Many among the Night’s Watch and the original Gift residents still opposed Aegor’s settlement policies, considering his decision to accept wildlings into the Gift as absurd. They believed this brought instability to the Gift and the North, diluting the resources and benefits they felt were rightfully theirs. They conveniently ignored the fact that these benefits came from the Night’s Watch’s industries, not from the Gift itself. Moreover, Aegor’s decision to relocate the Night’s Watch headquarters from Castle Black to Crown's Rest had earned him derogatory titles like “The Lord Commander Who Abandoned the Wall” and “The Commander Too Afraid to Return to Castle Black.”
Meanwhile, the mountain clans who had come to aid in defending the Wall were cooperative in following Aegor’s directives but privately disgruntled. Beyond the baseline support and a promised stone fortress, they, as guests and reinforcements, found it galling that the once-hostile wildlings were now receiving similar treatment, pay, and legal status. This “equality,” meant to symbolize fairness, only eroded their sense of superiority.
As for the wildlings, the largest group in the Gift’s population, their issues were even more numerous. The sharper among them had begun to realize that Aegor’s willingness to take them in stemmed largely from his desire for cheap labor. While the settled life under the Night’s Watch’s protection was stable and safe, it required hard work in exchange for survival. For many, this was far more tedious and exhausting than their old lives of hunting, foraging, and raiding. They resented being turned into “kneelers” and chafed at the Watch’s interference in their internal affairs. Some even began to romanticize Mance Rayder’s leadership, resenting the sacrifices he made to get them past the Wall and blaming him for their current plight.
In short, Asha Greyjoy was far from the only one with complaints. Discontented people abounded. Human nature, Aegor reflected, was insatiable, and this truth transcended borders, cultures, and climates.
Though the Gift’s overall happiness remained at a low point, logistical efforts and the Night’s Watch’s military presence kept the situation from descending into outright chaos. Aegor had come to understand how unrealistic it was to expect that the wave of loyalty and reform seen in many stories could come from a few bold actions, especially without a golden finger or vast reserves of wealth to back him.
His strategy was simple: stay clear-headed. The reality of the Gift meant that it was impossible to please everyone or earn their love. If he couldn’t have it, he wouldn’t waste time wanting it. For now, the Gift’s people were his chess pieces, and he the player. His sole focus was winning the game against the White Walkers. Only then could he afford to think about anything else.
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Surveyors from the construction department had conducted extensive investigations along the canyon where the Milkwater met the Bay of Ice and selected a site for the naval port. Aegor hadn’t planned to inspect the site himself, but with the first prototypes of dragonglass bombs ready for testing, he decided to alter his schedule. He aimed to visit the newly opened patrol routes along the canyon’s edge while the Northern craftsmen were still gathering at Winterfell. If possible, he would also select a location for the weapons testing grounds.
After his election as Lord Commander and subsequent inauguration, Aegor had returned north to the Wall for the first time. Passing Castle Black, he traveled west along the foot of the ice wall, spending a night at the Shadow Tower. There, he discussed the state of the Watch with Denys Mallister, exchanging insights about the future direction of the order. The next morning, accompanied by Colin Halfhand, he set out westward, passing the small fortress of Westwatch-by-the-Bridge and venturing into territory he had never explored before—the only section of the Wall’s southern side not blocked off by the ice.
Aegor had to admit that the canyon wasn’t quite what he’d imagined. In his mind, he’d pictured something akin to the East African Rift Valley he’d seen in aerial photographs: a vast plain with a jagged scar stretching to the horizon, deep and steep like a massive trench carved by the gods.
The reality was different. The canyon was not formed by tectonic shifts but was originally a fissure or depression between two peaks in the southern Frostfangs. Over millennia, the Milkwater had eroded the riverbed, deepening it. The collapsing rock layers on either side created steep cliffs, with the river at the bottom flanked by treacherous slopes. The scene reminded Aegor of the Three Gorges back on Earth, where the Yangtze River carved its way through steep terrain.
The key difference between a rift valley and this canyon was that its edges weren’t flat plains. The northern side sloped down from the southern Frostfangs, while the southern side rose into another mountain range. The patrol routes Aegor had ordered ran along the cliffs, precariously close to the edge, where uneven, narrow paths left little room for error. A single misstep could send a man tumbling down the slope.
Even this “cleaned-up” patrol path, worn in by dozens of patrols, was treacherous. The group moved on foot, as horses were impractical here. Aegor occasionally leaned out to peer into the canyon. Fortunately, the rock layers of the Frostfangs were not as sheer as those of the Wu Mountains back on Earth, and the slopes, while steep, were not vertical. Some areas were covered with vegetation, meaning that falling wouldn’t necessarily result in instant death.
Still, it was no place for casual climbing. Aegor thought back to the time three years ago when he had first encountered the White Walkers. After abandoning Waymar Royce, his terrified companions had discussed their escape options at the foot of the Wall. One of them, Gared, had suggested skirting around the Wall via the canyon to return south. At the time, Aegor had nearly agreed. Now, seeing the canyon with his own eyes, he was glad he hadn’t. Crossing the river might have been manageable, but climbing back up the opposite slope? Impossible.
No wonder Mance Rayder had preferred to attack the Wall rather than attempt this route. For the living, it was as much a natural barrier as the Wall itself.
“Is there no better path?” Aegor asked.
“If you mean a route to the naval port site at the canyon’s mouth, there’s a trail a few miles south of here,” Colin replied. “It’s a road along the Bay of Ice, used by clanspeople from the mountains. But your orders were to patrol the canyon’s southern side. If we took that road, we wouldn’t see what’s happening inside the canyon—just like patrolling the base of the Wall without being able to see if anyone was climbing it.”
Aegor nodded. As long as there was a road, building a proper path to the port wouldn’t take more than half a year.
“The canyon’s natural defenses against wildlings are obvious enough,” Aegor remarked. “But the White Walkers and their wights aren’t afraid of falling. If they force their way through, even if the patrols spot them in time, it’ll be difficult to mobilize reinforcements for a proper defense.”
The Wall, massive and straight, had a road atop it that was wide enough to serve as a highway. Patrolmen on the Wall could easily spot climbers and send signals—horn blasts or smoke—to alert nearby castles. The defenders, taking advantage of the Wall’s height, could hold their positions with overwhelming ease.
The canyon, however, required crossing to the other side, descending to the riverbed, and then climbing back up. This was as challenging as scaling the Wall itself. With such narrow and difficult terrain, even if the patrols raised the alarm, reinforcements from the Shadow Tower, Westwatch-by-the-Bridge, or the future naval port would struggle to arrive before the enemy breached the canyon.
“Does that mean patrols can only serve as an early warning system?” Aegor asked.
“You’re right to worry, my lord,” Colin acknowledged. “But it’s not as dire as it seems. While the Shadow Tower is over twenty miles from the Bay of Ice, only about ten miles of that route is as treacherous as what we’re on now. Near the canyon’s mouth, the Milkwater widens, and the paths become much easier.”
“Easier or not, it’s still mountain terrain,” Aegor muttered, frowning. “It seems we’ll need to establish a midway outpost in the canyon, stockpiling wildfire and dragonglass arrows to prepare for emergencies.”
“A wise precaution,” Colin agreed. Though he was a traditionalist who opposed integrating wildlings, he never doubted Aegor’s determination. For centuries, the Night’s Watch had been in decline, abandoning outposts one by one. But Aegor had not only reactivated many of the original nineteen forts but also continually added new ones since becoming Lord Commander. His decisiveness and ambition left even his skeptics impressed.
“Still, it may not be as bad as you think,” Colin added. “Our patrols have made an interesting discovery.”
“Oh? I’m not in the mood for trivia,” Aegor said flatly.
“This isn’t trivia,” Colin replied. “When Long Night Hold was reopened last year, we discovered that glowing heart tree beneath the Wall, sparking the theory that the Wall’s magic comes from weirwood. Coincidentally, the base and slopes of the canyon contain the largest weirwood forest in Westeros.”
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