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Chapter 302
🕑 Added 2025-01-29 12:10:32 +0000 UTCCastle Black’s leadership insisted on avoiding bloodshed, while the small delegation from Eastwatch—barely two or three dozen men—was woefully outmatched. In the end, the conservative officers reluctantly agreed to try one last thing: sending a trusted messenger to inform Robb Stark of what was happening at the Wall. If the Night’s Watch could no longer control a certain logistics officer, perhaps an external force could.
The plan was simple and direct. The execution, however, was another matter.
On the ground, the forces from Crown’s Rest, tasked with enforcing the blockade of Castle Black, refused any negotiation. Their orders were clear: no one, regardless of whether they were a sworn brother, a man from Eastwatch, or a supporter of either faction in the Lord Commander’s election, was permitted to leave.
Meanwhile, those who attempted to escape from the top of the Wall or send messages out were intercepted before they had gotten far—stopped by the mountain clansmen stationed at Queen’s Gate and the Black Weasel Hall, who had been given strict orders to allow no one through.
The besieged had once again underestimated their opponent’s meticulous planning.
With no way out, they pinned their hopes on the weather. Perhaps the worsening snowfall, with its bitter cold and creeping hunger, would eventually drive the mountain clansmen away.
But by afternoon, the situation had changed yet again.
More people had arrived from Crown’s Town—two additional waves, numbering in the hundreds. Men and women alike, hauling wagons loaded with supplies. The moment they arrived, they got to work, setting up tents, constructing makeshift fences, and, by nightfall, they had established a fully functional military camp on the ruins of Mole’s Town. Smoke from cookfires began to rise into the darkening sky.
----
By this point, the number of Crown’s Rest troops outside Castle Black had surpassed the entire Night’s Watch. And it wasn’t just the fighters—they had fully equipped logistics support, a supply line, and the ability to operate independently.
From the Wall, the conservative officers watched in silence. They spoke little, but their unease was palpable. No one was more regretful than Bowen Marsh.
He was beginning to realize that this entire situation was, in part, his doing.
After Jeor Mormont’s sudden death, he had been the one to orchestrate the strategy of starving out Aegor’s settlement, hoping to force his hand. The strict rationing policies he had pushed had left Castle Black’s storerooms full—but they were now utterly useless, as the fortress itself was surrounded.
Meanwhile, Crown’s Rest had barely been able to support the thousands of Free Folk they had taken in, constantly struggling to fill their empty granaries. Yet despite their apparent disarray, they had, without anyone realizing it, gained full control over the Gift and made themselves the true power in the region.
Bowen did not believe he had been wrong. But he had to admit one thing.
He had lost.
And worse than losing—his enemy had grown stronger.
----
"When those people first arrived this morning, when they were still vulnerable, we should have acted. Now it’s too late. Whatever we do next, we either have to hope Eastwatch or Shadow Tower relays our message, or we sit here and wait for something to change."
"Vulnerable? That’s rich," someone scoffed. "When those people were ‘vulnerable,’ we weren’t even dressed yet. We’re lucky they didn’t just attack us outright."
----
With all attempts to send word outside having failed, Castle Black held a second meeting.
But it went nowhere.
Not because they had no ideas.
Because, at this point, there was simply nothing they could do.
Most of the Night’s Watch knew they weren’t dealing with a true enemy—this was a battle between factions, not a war to the death. As a result, discipline had already begun to slip. The Wall’s defenders continued to follow orders, but now with the lethargy of men who no longer truly cared.
Meanwhile, Castle Black had only one gate.
A single chokepoint, reinforced by barricades, and manned by overlapping shifts of sentries. Escape was almost impossible.
And as the snow continued to pile up—already knee-deep in the open plains—any thought of launching an attack or breaking the siege had become nothing more than a fantasy.
----
"What’s the point of arguing about the past? We need to act. We can’t just sit here and let the mountain clansmen strangle us!"
The speaker was Yohn Royce, a former high lord from the Vale and one of the few experienced leaders among them.
"Bloodshed is the last thing we need. But if we continue to do nothing, our men will stop being angry and start accepting this as normal. And worse, everyone watching—every single person in the Gift—is going to realize something."
He leaned forward.
"That Aegor is already their leader."
Othel Yarwyck frowned. "But he already has the votes to win the election. Why would he risk a stunt like this now? It’s completely unnecessary."
"His motivations don’t matter," Royce said bluntly. "What does matter is that he is meticulous. He leaves no openings. Which means I’d wager he’s also made sure Eastwatch and Shadow Tower won’t be able to help us either."
Royce glanced around the room.
"So we need to act. And we need to act fast."
"I’ve been thinking. There’s one path no one has considered. One that Aegor absolutely cannot anticipate. Even if he does, he won’t be able to stop it."
----
"Oh?"
"Let’s hear it."
Royce smirked. "He’s blocked us from leaving through the inside of the Wall. And he’s blocked us from escaping over the top of the Wall."
"But the outside? That’s an entire world he can’t control."
Silence.
Then, laughter.
"Go beyond the Wall to send a message?" One of Castle Black’s rangers snorted. "You do remember why we sealed the tunnels, right? Who knows how many wights and White Walkers are out there, just waiting for us to be stupid enough to step outside?"
Royce held firm. "Yes, the Haunted Forest is dangerous. That’s why we stopped patrolling. But think about it—every report we’ve gotten says the Walkers are intelligent. They think, they strategize. Why would they waste time lurking in the forest if they know we won’t come out?"
"You want to gamble on predicting what monsters will do?" The ranger sneered. "You think the dead get bored waiting? They have all the time in the world."
"Fine," Royce said. "Then explain this: Mance Rayder surrendered with thirty thousand Free Folk. But thousands more refused. They ran north. If I were a White Walker, I wouldn’t be waiting at the forest’s edge. I’d be hunting them first."
Another voice cut in. "Even if you’re right, I’m not sending men out there to die. Not for this. I’d rather be hanged for insubordination than be turned into one of them."
Royce ignored him, looking to the others.
"Nobody—not Aegor, not the Walkers—expects us to send men beyond the Wall."
"We lower a man or two down with a basket, have them move west, circle past Queen’s Gate and the mountain clansmen, then signal for our men at Shadow Tower to pull them up. Done quickly enough, they won’t even have to spend a night outside."
"It’s dangerous, yes. But it may not be suicidal."
----
Royce met their gazes.
"If we don’t act, we’re conceding everything. And I refuse to let Aegor think he can corner us."
