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Chapter 277
🕑 Added 2025-01-28 23:13:30 +0000 UTC"We’ve all been played by that bastard!" Yohn Royce fumed as he gathered the other exiled Vale lords sent to the Wall alongside him. His voice was thick with rage and frustration. "He declared he wouldn’t participate in the election and left Castle Black. Everyone thought he was bowing to reality, that he was a clever man who knew when to back down. But we were all wrong. He hasn’t given up at all. Instead, while we were busy fighting over the election, he slipped south to the North to stir up trouble and seek backing from House Stark!"
"Calm down, old man," one of the Vale lords said. "Robb Stark merely announced he was inspecting the North. That doesn’t necessarily mean he’s supporting Aegor West’s Gift settlement plan. In fact, once he sees those wildlings, he might even oppose it."
"Your words aren’t wrong, but do you think those lazy fools at Castle Black have the judgment to see it that way? They’ll just notice Aegor went south, and the next thing they’ll see is Robb Stark, Warden of the North, returning with him to Castle Black! I knew his father Eddard well—Starks are famous for their honesty and straightforwardness, which is just a polite way of saying they’re easy to fool! Put someone as cunning and ruthless as Aegor in their path, and they’ll be sold out before they even realize it."
Another Vale lord nodded grimly. "Lord Yohn has a point. The North has always been the strongest supporter of the Night’s Watch. While the Watch is technically independent, it relies entirely on the North’s goodwill to function. Even if Robb Stark says or does nothing during his visit, his mere presence alongside Aegor will make many at Castle Black jump to conclusions. They’ll start imagining things—‘Why did he come with Aegor?’ ‘Is this a sign of support?’ Before you know it, they’ll be casting their votes for Warner Buckwell—"
"No, for Aegor," Yohn interrupted. "Mark my words: Buckwell is just a puppet. When Aegor returns to Castle Black, he’ll announce his candidacy. Buckwell will drop out of the race, and his votes will go straight to Aegor. Add in the votes of those who change their minds after seeing Robb’s visit, and—"
"But he already publicly stated he wouldn’t run. Isn’t that going back on his word?"
"There’s no rule against entering the race late. In fact, any sworn brother can declare their candidacy at any time before a new Lord Commander is elected," Yohn said bitterly. "And I’ll bet he won’t even announce it himself. He’ll have his lackeys stage some farce where they ‘nominate him out of overwhelming respect,’ claiming he has ‘no choice but to accept the call of duty.’ Disgusting."
...
"I hate to admit it, but his strategy has a high chance of succeeding," someone muttered after a brief silence. "We’ve wasted two months without electing a Lord Commander. Many brothers at Castle Black are fed up with the endless campaigning. If someone new steps in to shake things up, those who don’t care much about who wins might just vote for the fresh face out of impatience."
"Even if every soldier at Castle Black votes for him, Aegor still won’t have two-thirds of the votes. Cotter Pyke and Denys Mallister hold over four hundred each."
"You fool, don’t you see? That’s exactly what he wants!" Yohn snapped. "He doesn’t need to win. He just needs to keep anyone else from winning. As Chief Logistics Officer, only the Lord Commander can order him to stop the Gift settlement plan. As long as he holds enough votes to keep Pyke and Mallister from a majority, he can continue his plan and play at being the ‘Wildling King’ as long as he likes!"
Finally, someone voiced the obvious solution. "We need to convince either Cotter Pyke or Denys Mallister to support the other. One of them must consolidate their votes and end this election immediately to shut down that damned settlement plan."
"Convince Pyke and Mallister to support each other?" Ser Templeton snorted. "They hate each other. They’d rather throw their votes into the sea."
"True. You’d have better luck convincing Aegor to give up his settlement plan," an elderly lord scoffed. "That task would at least be slightly easier."
"You useless old fools!" Yohn muttered under his breath. He realized he couldn’t waste any more time arguing. If he didn’t act now, the man who had caused his son’s death and helped Robert Baratheon breach the Bloody Gate would succeed. He needed a plan, and he needed it before Aegor returned to Castle Black.
Yohn Royce decided to act.
...
Cotter Pyke, commander of Eastwatch, was a wiry, rough-hewn man, his face marred by smallpox scars and framed by a scraggly beard. He was seated in the Shieldhall with three of his men, gambling with dice. When Yohn approached, Cotter didn’t even look up.
"Here to convince me to throw my votes behind someone else again?"
"Yes, but this time it’s different—"
"No, it’s not. My answer’s still the same: absolutely not," Cotter interrupted with a sneer. "I know what you’re thinking. You’re a lord, and I’m just a bastard. Even though we’ve worked together at Eastwatch, you’d still rather side with someone like Mallister. Well, tell him this: it’s not a curse, but he’s too old. If we elect him, we’ll be voting for another election within the year."
"That’s not—"
"Have you asked him what he plans to do as Lord Commander? Write letters to the wights? He’s a fine knight, I’ll give him that, but he’s no warrior. And he’s ancient. I couldn’t care less about some tournament he won fifty years ago. Everyone knows Shadow Tower’s defenses are held together by Qhorin Halfhand, not Mallister. We need a strong, capable leader, someone who can fight. Not an old man reminiscing about his glory days!" Cotter slammed the table.
"My lord, you’ve made your stance clear," Yohn interjected, raising his voice. "You won’t vote for Mallister. But would you consider someone else?"
"Who? Bowmen Marsh? The man can count spoons, nothing more. Yarwyck? He’d follow any order given to him. Now that Mormont’s dead, he listens to Marsh," Cotter scoffed.
"What about me?" Yohn said firmly.
"You?" Cotter stared at him, genuinely surprised. "You’ve only been in the Watch for a year. Even Aegor West has served longer."
"Even if I joined yesterday, I’m eligible to run," Yohn retorted. "When Lord Mormont became Lord Commander, he hadn’t worn black for long either. He earned his position through noble birth, experience leading troops, and managing Bear Island. I have the same qualifications."
Yohn Royce, known as Bronze Yohn, had all the credentials: noble blood, leadership experience, and a reputation for loyalty. Cotter couldn’t find a flaw in his argument. After a long pause, he said, "But Mormont volunteered for the Watch. You’re here because you rebelled and were exiled."
"Robert called it rebellion, but we were only trying to expel Lysa Tully for murdering our liege lord," Yohn shot back. "Seven Kingdoms or not, everyone knows the truth."
Cotter shrugged. "Fine. You’re qualified. But what will you do to convince me to give you my votes?"
"Because you won’t win the Lord Commander’s seat, and I offer a better option: a triumvirate," Yohn declared. "You’ll remain in command at Eastwatch, Mallister will stay at Shadow Tower, and I’ll act as the titular Lord Commander. Together, we’ll decide the Watch’s major matters, including halting Aegor’s Gift settlement plan."
Cotter laughed but didn’t immediately refuse.
...
The commander of Shadow Tower was born beneath the great bells of Seagard—he was a Mallister through and through. The collar and cuffs of his black velvet doublet were lined with mink, and a silver eagle’s claw fastened his cloak. His beard was as white as snow, most of his hair had fallen away, and deep wrinkles lined his face, but his movements remained swift, his teeth intact, and neither time nor age had dulled the sharp blue-gray of his eyes or his noble bearing.
"Lord Yohn." As soon as Yohn Royce stepped into the Longspear Tower, where the Shadow Tower delegation was housed, the old noble greeted him first. "House Royce and House Mallister have been friends since ancient times. More than that, we ourselves have known each other for decades… I sincerely hope you’re not here to convince me to throw my vote to Cotter Pyke. No offense, but if anyone should step aside, it’s Pyke. I have more votes than he does, and I am the better choice."
"You are indeed the better choice," Yohn Royce admitted, wasting no time in making his purpose clear. He didn’t want a repeat of his earlier conversation with Pyke, where he’d been forced to listen to endless grumbling. "But you and Cotter Pyke have been rivals for too long. He fears that if you become Lord Commander, you’ll strip him of his command at Eastwatch."
"He said that?" Denys Mallister raised an eyebrow. "You and I both know that a true man of honor wouldn’t stoop to petty revenge. Tell him this: if I am elected, he will keep his position."
"I believe you, Ser Mallister," Yohn spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "Cotter Pyke never actually voiced this concern himself—I saw it in his actions. He was born an ironborn, grew up on decks where murder, betrayal, and cruelty were a way of life. Suspicion and violence are in his blood. Whether he believes you or not, he will never simply take you at your word."
"That is unfortunate," Ser Mallister said without a hint of emotion. "Cotter Pyke is a fine warrior, but you and I, as men of noble birth, both know that some problems cannot be solved by the sword alone. The Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch must be a leader, not merely a general. He must have connections, the ability to negotiate with other lords, and the skill to handle difficult matters. Above all, he must command respect."
The old knight leaned back in his chair. "I have no desire for power. In the last election, when Lord Mormont’s name was put forth, I willingly stepped aside. Even before that, I yielded to Lord Corgyle. As long as the Night’s Watch is in good hands, I am satisfied. But I cannot bring myself to step aside for Cotter Pyke."
"I understand your concerns, Ser Mallister," Yohn Royce nodded. "But if the commanders of the Shadow Tower and Eastwatch keep holding on to their own votes, we may go another year without electing a new Lord Commander. And if that happens, our Chief Logistics Officer will continue playing his ‘Gift Resettlement’ game until the wildlings inevitably destroy the Night’s Watch."
"Then we will keep voting, for as long as it takes—until I die, or until Pyke changes his mind. There is precedent for such a stalemate." Ser Mallister had no son who had died because of Aegor, so he merely shrugged. "As for Aegor and his wildlings, they won’t last long. Their food stores are insufficient."
"Their food stores are insufficient," Yohn echoed, nodding. "But if Aegor runs out of supplies, do you really think he’ll simply send the wildlings away? Don’t forget—there are still massive stockpiles of winter rations hidden beneath Castle Black. If he convinces those savages to storm Castle Black, without the Wall’s protection, no single fortress could withstand the assault of ten thousand desperate wildlings."
Ser Mallister frowned, considering for a few moments before nodding. "That is a legitimate concern. What do you propose?"
"I have a proposal—rule by three," Yohn said seriously. "I will serve as nominal Lord Commander, wielding the authority to halt the Gift Resettlement plan, while you and Cotter Pyke both retain your positions as commanders. All major decisions will be made by the three of us together."
After a brief pause, he steeled himself and added, "Cotter Pyke has already said that if you agree to vote for me, he will do the same."
