Chapter 15: The King's Feast (Part I)
Drying the droplets of water from his body, Egger picked up the clothing sent by the servants: a long tunic in the signature black of the Night's Watch, but crafted from velvet. It was clearly no standard uniform—both in texture and workmanship, it was worlds apart from what a common brother of the Watch wore. As he pulled it on, the fabric brushed against his skin with a sensation so comfortable he nearly let out a groan of satisfaction. In Westeros, only the Night's Watch wore all black, but the dimensions didn't seem custom-made for him; it was likely a spare set from Benjen Stark's own wardrobe.
(Traveling on official business with the boss really does come with better perks than staying at the Wall,) Egger thought with a wry smile.
It wasn't that he had never worn better clothes before. Before coming to this world, his family hadn't been tycoon-level wealthy, but they at least owned a house and a car. His mother had been a clothing store owner with a background in tailoring, making her a true expert in the field. If nothing else, any item picked at random from his old closet would have been a high-quality, decent piece... growing up, wearing good clothes was simply a given. But that life felt like a distant past from another lifetime. Not long ago, he had been fighting for a higher standard of living; now, he had sunk to a point where a bit of comfortable fabric brought him genuine contentment. Among transmigrators, he felt he was likely among the worst-faring tier.
Winterfell sat atop hot springs, with hot water channeled through pipes within the walls. Even the humblest room without a hearth remained at least twenty degrees warmer than the outdoors. Sinking into a chair after his bath, Egger felt so comfortable he barely wanted to move a finger... but there was work to be done tonight. He pulled himself together, straightened his clothes, and left the room.
The Night's Watch were honored guests in Winterfell, but that was mostly a pleasant formality. With the King's arrival, no one had the energy to mind a common soldier. Following the impatient directions of a servant, he reached the feast hall and found his place in a corner. Surrounded by a large crowd of early arrivals, he began the wait.
The hall was thick with steam and the drifting scents of roasted meat and fresh-baked bread. Upon the grey stone walls hung the banners of the great houses: the grey direwolf of House Stark, the crowned stag of House Baratheon on a field of gold, and the roaring lion of House Lannister on crimson. A singer was plucking a harp and belting out a ballad, but Egger—unfamiliar with the nuances of the Westerosi tongue and seated at the far end of the long hall—couldn't make out the lyrics.
Jon Snow shared his table. At this royal feast, whether his father was Rhaegar Targaryen or Eddard Stark didn't matter; as long as he wasn't a legally recognized heir, a bastard's status was much the same as a man of the Watch: meaning eligible for a seat, but as a participant of the lowest rank. Such was the cold hierarchy of the world of Ice and Fire. The youth, however, didn't seem bothered; in fact, he appeared quite at ease—alternating between feeding the little direwolf hidden beneath the table and eagerly peppering Egger with questions about the details of life in the Night's Watch with a heartless sort of optimism.
Besides the bastard and the Watchman, the table was filled with young squires. Some served the Starks, some were loyal to the crown, and others came from Casterly Rock or Lannisport. Among these lowest-ranking participants, there were no ancient blood feuds or ancestral grudges. Despite coming from all corners of the realm, they sat shoulder-to-shoulder, sipping fine wine and chatting in a common tongue about their experiences. Jon asked with great interest about the Wall, and Egger answered each query. As his narrative unfolded, more and more people set down their forks and cups to join the conversation.
"Do giants actually exist?"
"Do the people north of the Wall really... with goats?"
"I heard the wildlings eat their own children when they're hungry!"
Egger knew that mentioning the Others would only get him branded a boaster, so he steered clear of the subject entirely. Instead, he chose interesting, conversational topics to discuss.
He was in his mid-twenties, and his features made him look young enough to blend in with this circle of youths, yet his maturity and accumulated life experience made him the most composed person at the table. Popular psychology books he had read before his transmigration gave him a clear idea of how to cater to others... he hadn't been particularly slick in his old world, but dealing with a few kids in a world dominated by blood and steel was a simple task. Before long, the ranger in his crisp black velvet became the star of the table. The youths crowded around him, constantly offering toasts and asking questions. The atmosphere grew so lively that even those at neighboring tables shifted their benches closer to hear Egger's stories.
"However, things haven't been very peaceful at the Wall lately," Egger said, pivoting the conversation toward serious matters now that the entertainment was over. "The weather is getting colder by the day, and a hundred thousand wildlings are gathering under a King-Beyond-the-Wall, preparing to break through to the south—which to them is anywhere south of the Wall—to survive the winter. Rangers have begun spotting humanoid figures resembling the Others in the Haunted Forest... several brothers have already gone missing during patrols this year."
Speaking of such things to bastards and young squires was technically useless, but information spreads. Behind a bastard stood the head of House Stark and his future heirs; the squires served the knights and nobles who actually controlled the resources of Westeros. Spreading word of the hardships facing the Night's Watch through these channels would, in the long run, surely benefit the defenders of the Wall.
The leaders of the Night's Watch were men of integrity, but the era they were born into meant their understanding of the power of public opinion was limited. Egger possessed a perspective and insight far beyond theirs. Ultimately, he wanted to use what he knew to make a small contribution to the night's watch—in this cruel world, one had to prepare for multiple outcomes. If he failed to find a way to escape the Watch, he would have to rely on his fellow brothers to survive. What benefited the night's watch benefited him.
"A hundred thousand wildlings?" Some listeners didn't believe it at all, while others looked shocked and tense. "Can the Night's Watch hold them back?"
"That's just a rough estimate. Among those hundred thousand are the old, the young, and families with livestock. If they have ten thousand fighting men, that would be the absolute limit," Egger said, raising his cup and draining it. "In a direct frontal assault, even a hundred thousand elite troops couldn't scale the Wall. The problem the Watch faces now is that the Wall is too long and our numbers are too few. We can't man every point. If the wildlings choose an unmanned section to climb and then attack from both sides, we will be incredibly vulnerable."
"Then what is to be done?"
Egger gave a bitter smile. "Good question. The First Ranger came to Winterfell precisely to discuss that very problem with the Warden of the North."
The group of youths wanted to ask more, but the main guests of the feast arrived.
Support me on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/MistaQuartz
On Patreon, you can explore Extra Chapters in advance!