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Chapter 127
🕑 Added 2025-01-28 22:26:39 +0000 UTCChairman Mao once said, “Political power grows out of the barrel of a gun.” Aegor agreed wholeheartedly. While he had no immediate plans for rebellion or revolution, he couldn’t ignore the profound truth in this statement. Remove the phrase “political power,” and the blank could be filled with countless possibilities. In this chaotic and backward world, the value of armed forces was immeasurable. Building his own army had been on Aegor’s mind from the beginning—he had a plan and was fully prepared, with no need for improvisation.
An army is a collective of soldiers organized into units, making it easier to calculate manpower and command movements. Aegor started by establishing a structure for his security force: ten men per squad, three squads to a platoon, three platoons to a company, and so on.
The specifics of military organization—whether a unit should have nine or ten soldiers, or how many sub-units should comprise a larger unit—were relatively unimportant in the early stages of army building. What mattered was having a consistent and standardized system. But training—that was the key.
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“Keep the swordsmanship classes, but also bring in bows and crossbows. Relying solely on melee weapons isn’t enough,” Aegor began, speaking with confidence. “Add physical conditioning, formation drills, and discipline training. Knowing how to fight isn’t enough—they must learn to obey and follow orders!”
“Bows, formations, discipline…?” Geros, the head of security, looked uneasy. “My lord, are you trying to train a proper army?”
Aegor stared at Geros for a few seconds, then turned to Nina. “What’s the base pay for these security recruits?”
“A silver stag a day, my lord,” Nina replied.
Aegor looked back at Geros. “How’s the pay? Enough to support a family?”
Geros, unsure of Aegor’s intent, answered honestly. “It’s enough. A month’s wages are equivalent to what a common farmer earns in half a year.”
“Good, then I can rest easy.” Aegor didn’t feel the need to explain himself further to a subordinate. With nobles and Night’s Watch commanders, he could be patient, but when it came to his employees, he preferred directness. If they understood, great. If not, they could leave—he had no use for fools. “What gave you the impression that I’d offer soldier-level wages to hire glorified security guards to babysit a factory?”
Geros flushed, much like Nina had earlier when she first encountered Aegor. “Understood, my lord… I’ll follow military protocol.”
“Good. Tyrion selected you because he saw potential. Don’t disappoint me.” Aegor was unapologetic about his intentions. The Night’s Watch was a military organization, and training soldiers was a natural extension of that. Even if word got out, what could people say? “Beyond what you experienced in the city guard, I’ll add a few modern elements.”
Aegor then outlined training methods inspired by modern armies: proper stances, marching drills, commands, and even daily routines. He emphasized the importance of synchronization in both movement and appearance—uniform execution of commands, regular schedules, neatly arranged beds, and well-organized equipment. Soldiers would salute their superiors and adhere to a strict chain of command.
Despite simplifying his explanation, Aegor still left his audience overwhelmed. “It’s just a small army,” Geros thought. “Why make it so complicated?”
Geros, who hadn’t grasped most of the details, finally spoke up. “My lord, I understand the military-style training, but… why take time away from physical conditioning and sword practice to teach them how to march, arrange their belongings, and fold their blankets? What’s the point?”
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What’s the point? Aegor understood Geros’ doubts. Even in the modern world, many people dismissed military drills and housekeeping tasks as meaningless formalities. They failed to realize that beneath these "formalities" lay the foundation of a disciplined and cohesive army.
Whether you believe it or not, Aegor thought, the reality is simple: all else being equal, an army that marches in step and folds its blankets neatly will always outperform one that doesn’t. Across time and cultures, this has been proven without exception.
If equipment and individual skills are an army’s bones and flesh, then discipline and obedience are its soul. The Unsullied were powerful not because of their weapons or training but because of their unmatched discipline—a trait nearly impossible to replicate. Aegor’s goal was to create a similar level of discipline without resorting to the Unsullied’s extreme methods. It wouldn’t be easy to transform independent-minded freemen into a cohesive force, but fortunately, the Night’s Watch Industries had the resources to make it happen.
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Aegor chose not to waste time explaining further. The effectiveness of modern military training methods would speak for itself in time. “Let me be clear about one thing,” he said firmly. “In the army I’m building, subordinates are not allowed to question their superiors’ decisions unless in a combat meeting. When I tell you what to do, your only response should be, ‘Yes, sir!’ and then do everything in your power to execute it. This applies to everyone, including you. Do you understand?”
Geros looked frustrated but nodded reluctantly. He glanced at Tyrion, perhaps hoping for support.
“Why are you looking at me?” Tyrion snapped. “Just because I hired you doesn’t mean I’ll defend you. Did you not hear me earlier? Lord Aegor is the supreme leader of the Night’s Watch Industries, and I’m just one of his employees! Do you think I’m joking?”
While Tyrion himself was skeptical about the utility of internal drills, his trust in Aegor was absolute. To Tyrion, Aegor was as much of a “god-tier teammate” as Tyrion was to Aegor.
The dwarf folded his arms and glared at Geros. “If you understand your orders, execute them. If you don’t, settle your wages with Nina and retire. She’s right here—you wouldn’t even need to go far. You’re being paid a gold dragon a month, not to watch the instructors teach recruits but to get things done.”
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The earlier tour had been full of camaraderie, but things had taken a turn at the security department. The atmosphere grew tense, and other department heads, unsure how to intervene, avoided making eye contact.
Geros wanted to quit on the spot, but the thought of his family and the generous salary held him back. Swallowing his pride, he lowered his head. “Yes, sir.”
He hesitated, then added cautiously, “But, Lord Aegor, I couldn’t remember everything you just said. Could you… write it down for me?”
“No problem.” Aegor nodded. “Many of these things are hard to explain clearly in words anyway. I’ll draft a set of rules and procedures, have them printed, and distribute a copy to everyone. Try implementing it first. If, after a month or two, you still think these non-combat drills are useless, come talk to me.”
Of course, Aegor thought, if Geros came back complaining in two months, it would only prove he wasn’t fit for the job.
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“Almost done,” Tyrion interjected. “There’s still the warehouse area. Once the industries expand, it’ll store unsold goods and supplies bound for the Wall. Want to take a look?”
“Is there anything in the warehouse now?”
“It’s half-built. Completely empty.”
“Then there’s nothing to see. Let’s end the tour here.”
“Agreed.” Tyrion smiled. “Everyone, time to wrap up. Nina, take Arya and Kacey somewhere to relax for a bit. Aegor and I have some private matters to discuss.”
Arya frowned. “What can’t you say in front of me?”
“Man-to-man secrets.” Tyrion winked and headed toward a small observation tower nearby.
Curious, Aegor followed him. Once they were out of earshot, Tyrion handed him a slip of paper. “Take a look. This is why I haven’t dared return to King’s Landing.”
(Not because he’s too busy at the industrial park?) Aegor took the note, glancing at it briefly before breaking into a cold sweat.
The note detailed Cersei and Jaime’s incestuous relationship, even including the damning detail that all Baratheon children were supposed to have black hair—yet Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella were all blond.
“Where did this come from?” Aegor asked.
Tyrion let out a bitter laugh. “Where do you think? These have been circulating all over King’s Landing, even more than the notes accusing Lysa of poisoning Jon Arryn. You’ve just returned, so you wouldn’t know yet.”
