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Chapter 333
🕑 Added 2025-01-29 12:23:15 +0000 UTCAegor was busy—very busy.
Enough was enough. Arya pestering him had been one thing; their relationship was so close that he couldn’t even figure out how to properly turn her away without creating a rift. But now Asha Greyjoy, a former battlefield enemy and the North’s public foe, had taken to demanding things of him? What kind of nonsense was this?
Maybe he’d been too generous with her.
As he walked, listening to his guards recount what had transpired in his absence, Aegor reflected on his overly lenient policies toward prisoners. Soon enough, he understood what Asha’s last request had meant.
Thanks to his interference, the War of the Five Kings had become a campaign where five nations besieged the Westerlands. As a result, Robb Stark hadn’t encountered the same resistance as in the original timeline and had never sent Theon back to the Iron Islands to seek an alliance. This meant that during the first Ironborn rebellion, Theon had remained a hostage in the North—a clear message from Balon Greyjoy that he was expendable and that his father was even willing to let the Starks kill their firstborn heir.
The outcome had been both ironic and bitter. Balon Greyjoy died quietly at home, leaving Asha and Theon in equally grim circumstances: one donned the black of the Night’s Watch, and the other became a prisoner. As fate would have it, both had ended up in the Gift, housed together in Crown's Rest.
Nine years of separation culminated in this bizarre reunion. Forced to see each other every day, the siblings endured a brief period of awkwardness before old resentments and present frustrations boiled over. Initially, Theon’s grievances manifested as quiet muttering, but Asha, being as stubborn as ever, refused to back down. Their arguments quickly escalated into public shouting matches that had the entire town watching. During Aegor’s absence, they had openly clashed twice, turning their sibling rivalry into Crown's Rest’s most notorious spectacle.
Compared to this mess, Jaime Lannister’s entanglement with the wildling princess or Joffrey’s petty brawls with his peers at the training grounds seemed trivial.
...
Aegor sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. With so many colorful personalities gathered in one place, Crown's Rest was becoming as chaotic as it was thriving. But he had no time to play mediator.
“Wait.” A sudden realization stopped him mid-step. “How was it that the moment I arrived at Crown's Rest, Asha Greyjoy just happened to show up? Someone must have tipped her off about my return.”
His subordinates froze, their expressions grim—they knew someone was in trouble and didn’t dare speak.
Most of Crown's Rest’s staff came from the South, many of them young and single. While the town was no longer entirely male, the gender imbalance was still significant. Asha Greyjoy, while not a stunning beauty, was certainly attractive compared to the wildling women or the rugged hill tribe females. If she had used her charms to cozy up to a guard, it wouldn’t be surprising if one of them had spilled the information she wanted.
At best, this was a lapse in judgment born of familiarity. At worst, it was negligence or treason. Today, Asha had only wanted to confront Aegor. But what if next time, she planned to escape or even attempt assassination? If she were determined enough to follow through on her claim to do “whatever it takes,” how many young men might fall for her wiles and betray their duty?
Aegor trusted the men he’d brought to the Gift, but he wasn’t so naive as to believe they all shared his self-discipline. They were ordinary men with ordinary weaknesses—something Aegor understood all too well, having once been an exploited worker himself before his transmigration.
“Pass this along to Yarm: investigate which jailer leaked my return to Asha Greyjoy. Punish them and reassign them. Rotate the prison guards regularly. If possible, recruit a few strong women from the hill tribes to handle such duties.”
“Yes, my lord.”
...
With pressing matters looming, Aegor found himself increasingly annoyed by these distractions. Yet he understood that the chaos was partly his own doing. He’d allowed issues to pile up unresolved, and now they were coming to a head all at once.
Shaking off his frustrations, Aegor led his guards toward the small lake behind the castle.
...
In strategy games, the debate over whether to prioritize “tech tree” development or military expansion is timeless. Aegor now faced a similar dilemma.
In his gaming days, he had preferred low-difficulty settings where he could quietly build up strength in a corner of the map, waiting to unleash his ultimate units for an overwhelming victory. Unfortunately, his enemies in this world were far from simple AI. The Iron Fleet and the Army of the Dead controlled the pace of conflict, with the initiative firmly in their hands.
...
The good news was that the Thenns, with their knowledge of bronze smelting, had successfully identified a tin deposit in the mountains of the Gift. This meant Crown's Rest could soon produce its own bronze.
The bad news? Aegor’s understanding of the relationship between bronze and cannon-making was limited to the fact that “bronze can be used to cast cannons.” He had no idea about the specific alloy ratios, how to reduce impurities, or how to create molds that would ensure strength, precision, and safety. As a product of modern society’s specialized division of labor, he lacked the expertise to address these challenges.
Though his background in engineering made him more capable than most, Aegor’s responsibilities as leader of the Gift and the Night’s Watch left him no time to personally oversee every research project. All he could do was set broad objectives and occasionally check on progress.
To ensure they weren’t caught unprepared, Aegor adopted a balanced approach: simultaneous development of manpower and technology. In the short term, he prioritized creating explosive weapons over firearms. These would be deployed using existing light trebuchets and ballistae. Even if cannons were eventually developed, achieving battlefield-ready power, range, and accuracy would take far too long for the imminent battles ahead.
Aegor tasked his military engineers with two primary objectives: crafting incendiary weapons for use against the Iron Fleet and the wights, and designing dragonglass bombs specifically to combat the White Walkers.
For the incendiary weapons, the alchemists offered two options: flame-throwing ballistae and firebombs.
The flame-throwing ballista was essentially a primitive flamethrower, using hand-pumped bellows to project ignited liquid. While promising, it had several critical flaws. The equipment was bulky, Crown's Rest’s industrial capacity couldn’t produce it yet, and it required a liquid fuel source. While liquid wildfire could work, it was scarce and dangerous, and using regular oil would significantly reduce its effectiveness. Most concerning was its limited range—less than ten meters. This made it viable for defending fortifications but nearly useless in naval combat, where the Ironborn ships would collide with theirs before the flames could do significant damage.
After weighing the pros and cons, the alchemists’ assistants recommended the simpler alternative: firebombs. These were essentially containers filled with combustible material, ignited before being thrown or launched. They could be used as mines, thrown by hand, or hurled by trebuchets. Most importantly, firebombs could utilize stabilized wildfire from the Targaryen era—enough to incinerate the entire Iron Fleet.
“For firebombs, there are two ignition methods,” explained a technician. “One uses fuses that burn down to detonate the bomb. The other relies on impact-triggered ignition, with small internal vessels breaking to release reactive materials that ignite the payload. For naval warfare, the second method is more reliable.”
Aegor waved a hand dismissively. “Choose whichever works best. I just want results. What about the dragonglass bombs?”
“They’re halfway done,” the technician reported. “You gave us the gunpowder formula, but our tests showed that impurities in the materials affected the proportions. After optimizing the formula and refining our production methods, we’ve started working on bomb casings designed to scatter obsidian fragments upon detonation. The powder is encased at the center, with layers of obsidian surrounding it.”
“And?”
“We’ve made prototypes, but since you forbade testing near Crown's Rest, we haven’t conducted any live trials yet.” The man hesitated before adding, “Even if it works, there’s another issue: explosions require containment. Right now, we’re using clay jars, which would shatter on impact and spill the contents instead of detonating. Unless you plan to set traps for the White Walkers, we’ll need sturdier casings—wood or metal.”
“Understood. I’ll have someone procure suitable materials. You can decide which works best after testing.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
The progress wasn’t groundbreaking, but it was satisfactory. Aegor had banned live testing near Crown's Rest to keep prying eyes—particularly those of the Iron Bank’s observers—away. Now, it was time to find a secure location for the next phase of experiments.
