Chapter 12: Heading South
Whatever Benjen Stark's original reasons for joining the Night's Watch were, Egger had to admit: he was a truly dedicated First Ranger. Through a raven, this lean, hardy man had learned that the King was expected to reach the North in three weeks. Since the journey from Castle Black to Winterfell took no more than two, he spent several busy days at the base managing defense schedules and patrol arrangements before preparing to depart. Fortunately for Egger, this delay allowed enough time for Will to stumble back to the Wall and provide a testimony identical to Egger's. This had changed Benjen's mind, leading to the last-minute decision to bring Egger along to report to the Warden of the North.
Egger felt a bit of relief. Not everyone was like him, constantly seeking comfort. If he were the First Ranger and received a summons from his own brother, the Lord of Winterfell, he probably would have packed his bags and hit the road south that very day. Compared to the Wall, even Winterfell—which Southrons considered cold and gloomy—was an absolute paradise.
There are always people in the world whose nobility exceeds ordinary imagination, and Egger didn't dare judge a man of honor by his own selfish standards just because he couldn't relate. He admired Benjen Stark's sense of duty and loyalty, but Egger wasn't born here, didn't grow up here, and certainly didn't have a brother who ruled the North. He felt like a conscripted soldier caught in a civil war; he had zero sense of belonging to this world or this kingdom. To be forced into a vow under the threat of losing a hand, and then be expected to live and die for it? Sorry, but Egger was a common man, neither noble nor selfless. No matter how flowery or inspiring that oath was, he refused to accept such a fate.
Even setting aside personal bias, Egger believed that with his knowledge and understanding of this world, he could contribute far more to humanity anywhere else than he could by rot-watching a wall against the Others.
Opportunity favors the prepared. Will, who had watched Ser Waymar Royce's death from the safety of a tree, would have been the more logical choice for this trip. But Benjen had chosen Egger without much hesitation. The reasons were twofold: first, Will's physical state wasn't fit for travel; second, the man simply wasn't presentable. Compared to the poacher's timid, accented, and stuttering demeanor, Egger—articulate and clear-headed—was far better suited to brief the Lord of Winterfell.
Besides, word was that Will had been scared witless by the Others and had become quite neurotic.
He and Benjen set out in the afternoon. To save time, they followed the Kingsroad, cutting through the Wolfswood directly toward Winterfell. They bypassed Last Hearth and Deepwood Motte, so like any patrol beyond the Wall, they packed enough food and drink for the duration. The only difference was that to ensure speed, each man brought two horses.
Light snow drifted from the sky. Amidst a profound silence, the two rode out of the gates of Castle Black. Though the path beneath them was called the Kingsroad, it was really just an extension of it, barely wider than a forest trail. The true Great Road began at King's Landing and effectively terminated at Winterfell; the portion further north was merely a formal continuation.
Riding south in silence, they soon approached Mole's Town. As they crested a gentle slope, Egger couldn't help but look back.
Castle Black sat on the south side of the Wall, so its sunlight wasn't blocked by the massive height, and the color of the ice itself wasn't particularly striking from up close. For the brothers of the Watch, it was easy to ignore the Wall in daily life. To protect his neck—and because he'd grown used to the sight—Egger had learned to ignore the peerless wall of ice during his months at Castle Black.
But the Wall doesn't disappear just because you don't look at it. It stood there as if it had existed since the dawn of time, destined to guard the North until the end of the world.
Now, several miles away, the full silhouette of the Wall revealed itself. What had been a colossal object filling his entire field of vision had gradually become a grey-blue screen spanning the northern horizon. It stretched uninterrupted to the east and west until it vanished into the distant, ashen mists.
Only from a distance could one truly grasp its majesty. It was the largest structure built by man in this world, and certainly the tallest man-made object in Westeros. From here, the towers and huts of the Night's Watch looked like toy blocks scattered in the snow at the foot of a wall; the men in black walking among them were like busy ants.
If this were the world Egger came from, it would be a top-tier tourist destination. Take a vacation, bring a loved one, leave the frantic pace of the city behind, and come to the northernmost point of the world to feel the cold wind and play in the snow. Stand atop the Wall to look out over the endless Haunted Forest to feel the baptism of nature and purify a dusty soul... It would be a great gimmick and a hell of a story to tell.
But the existence of the Others changed the tone entirely. This was a military fortification against extinction—the front line of a war for survival. There were few places on Earth more dangerous. If all went according to plan, this trip to Winterfell would be his last chance to escape before the next patrol. If possible, he hoped he'd never see this place again for the rest of his life.
"Egger." While he was lost in thought, Benjen Stark spoke up. "You're a foreigner. I know you're unhappy about being forced into service at the Wall, but I must warn you in good faith: do not think of running. Countless men have proven with their lives that the price of desertion is heavy."
"I understand. I have no intention of running," Egger said, startled that his thoughts had been read. He quickly turned to declare his loyalty. "I have sworn a sacred oath; I will keep my watch until the end."
"Good," Benjen nodded, dropping the subject. "My brother, Eddard Stark, is a typical Northman who doesn't care for empty formalities. But regardless, he is the Warden of the North and the Lord of Winterfell. Furthermore, the blood of the First Men flows in our veins; our heritage is ancient. Therefore, there are some basic etiquette and taboos I'll go over with you now. Make sure you remember them. You won't lose your head if you forget, but it would be disrespectful."
"Understood." Egger nodded solemnly. He cast one final, complex look at the Wall before turning away to cast it from his mind, focusing on Benjen's instructions.
...
The two traveled by day and rested by night. Passing through Mole's Town and Queenscrown, they moved beyond the immediate influence of the Night's Watch. The road beneath the horses' hooves gradually widened, and signs of human life became more common. The rulers of the North had granted vast tracts of land north of the Wolfswood to the Watch—the Gift—allowing them to tax the land to sustain themselves. However, as the Black Shirts weakened, wildling raids became more frequent, causing a southward migration of the Gift's residents. They fled the Watch, which could no longer protect them, to settle under the protection of other Northern lords. Today, except for small clusters near the three main strongholds, the Gift was nearly a wasteland.
Ironically, this wasteland made the North safer. This zone, combined with the Wall, acted as a double insurance policy. Few wildlings were willing to risk the ice only to starve while crossing a deserted wasteland to raid villagers protected by powerful houses like the Umbers or Karstarks. As the profit of raiding plummeted, fewer wildlings bothered with the grueling task. This gave the Northern lords a direct sense of security: wildling incursions had decreased. Most nobles credited the Night's Watch for this, resulting in voluntary donations of food and supplies. Everyone was happy.
Egger and Benjen's journey to Winterfell was smooth, encountering no trouble other than a group of suspicious individuals who looked like wildlings fleeing south. Upon seeing the black cloaks, the group vanished into the woods. Benjen, unlike the young and brash Waymar Royce, had no desire for unnecessary detours and let them go.
The road widened further. Stone bridges spanned rushing rapids, and farms clustered around stone walls and timber beams to form settlements. Other travelers and merchants appeared on the road. After sunset, they no longer had to camp in the wild. Two weeks later, exactly on Benjen's predicted schedule, they reached their destination.
Support me on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/MistaQuartz
On Patreon, you can explore Extra Chapters in advance!