Jon needed a mask.
Once Sam understood Jon's dilemma, he made the same suggestion.
"Do you know Morona, the thousand-man commander of the wildling camp? She's a witch-warrior who wears a white weirwood mask every day. People even call her 'White Mask.' Jon, you could learn from her," Sam said.
"A mask. Yes, I know about masks." Jon sighed, covering his face.
How could he not know about masks?
The legendary demigod Tam had already written about this in his journal. After becoming a Shadowbinder, one should prepare a lacquered mask as soon as possible.
But being a Shadowbinder didn't mean complete vulnerability to sunlight.
Wasn't Melisandre a Shadowbinder?
Had she ever feared the sun?
Shadowbinders wield the powers of shadow and fire. If one can learn advanced fire magic and cultivate it to a certain level, they will no longer fear sunlight.
However, the demigod Tam had also noted that most Shadowbinders don't spend much effort on fire magic. Human time and energy are limited, and the mysterious and potent arts of shadow and blood are considered the true path of a Shadowbinder.
Of course, Jon didn't have to struggle with this. He had no interest in blood magic, and turning to fire magic was actually a good option for him.
The Dragon Queen had even gifted him a magical spellplate, a legacy of Grandmaster Lisbon.
According to her, Lisbon was also a legendary figure, known as the "Western Peerless," and was considered the most powerful mage in the world alongside Grandmaster Kuixi of the Far East.
His legacy had to be exceptional.
At the very least, even the Dragon Queen herself had primarily trained in "Flame Control."
Jon had originally planned to devote himself to studying flame magic, but for some reason, Melisandre had also come to see him recently.
She all but directly stated that she could help him practice fire magic.
Jon was instantly tempted and asked how she intended to help.
Then Melisandre leaned in, her warm, pale body pressing close, her eyes seductive and her lips slightly parted.
For a moment, Jon was entranced—but he ultimately resisted.
First of all, everyone knew the Red Woman belonged to Stannis.
And Stannis lived right next door in the King's Tower.
Jon valued his life.
Second, he had been secretly seeing Ygritte the red-haired girl lately. Their forbidden romance burned hot, and Jon didn't want to betray her.
Lastly, he had long known that Melisandre was a Shadowbinder, and now that he had become one too, he understood the consequences of intimacy between Shadowbinders.
Sensing Jon's hesitation, the Red Woman spoke plainly: recently, she had seen his image repeatedly in the flames. He would play a crucial role in the coming Long Night, and she wanted to help him.
But Jon still firmly declined.
The tales in The Journal of the Legendary Demigod Tam were even scarier than Old Nan's ghost stories.
Just thinking of those sleep-depriving "magical experiments" was enough. Even if Melisandre stripped completely, Jon wouldn't dare be aroused.
Melisandre had only told part of the truth. The Wall contained immense magical power, and her magic had been growing stronger by the day.
But the stronger her power grew, the more frequently she saw Jon in the flames.
This left her uncertain—who was truly the prophesied child?
Helping Jon was simply convenient for her. She had helped Deerhorn replenish his magic many times before; she was quite experienced.
Besides, she could use a change of taste.
Jon was fresh and tender.
More importantly, she intended to use blood magic to uncover Jon's true nature.
That was also why Jon had barely come downstairs lately. He wanted to avoid further entanglements with the Red Woman.
Of course, this wasn't something he could explain to Sam.
"Look at this," Jon said, taking out the Valyrian steel spellplate and handing it to Sam across the table. "A magical relic gifted by Her Majesty Daenerys, from Grandmaster Lisbon. I've been practicing this spell recently."
"Ah! Valyrian steel!" Sam gasped the moment he touched it.
The Tarly family also had a Valyrian steel sword, so Sam had handled such material many times.
"Wait, is this how the Dragon Queen learned her fire magic?" Sam let out a long sigh.
Truth be told, his concern for Jon wasn't just about Jon isolating himself or becoming distant from his old friends.
Lately, rumors about Jon had been spreading through Castle Black—things like warging, shape-shifting, sorcery, blood magic, and dark arts.
The black-cloaked brothers were growing fearful of their current Lord Commander.
Sam looked at his friend with concern and urged, "Jon, you should tell everyone you're practicing fire magic under the Dragon Queen's guidance. It's the most effective magic against the White Walkers."
Jon's eyes flashed, but he shook his head. "No need. Sooner or later, I'll be able to use fire magic openly, and they'll all see it."
—It'll be much more effective and convincing if you 'accidentally' spread this news than if I say it myself.
Fire mages had a much better reputation than Shadowbinders or wargs. And the Dragon Queen, respected among both the Night's Watch and the wildlings, was also a fire mage.
Jon silently apologized to Sam in his heart.
Sam, unaware of his friend's little scheme, flushed anxiously and finally blurted out, "There are too many damaging rumors about you lately—that you're arrogant, you look down on the lower brothers, that you're a warg secretly practicing dark magic.
Jon, you have to clear things up. Tell them the truth."
A cold gleam flashed in the Lord Commander's eyes. He replied calmly, "It's Slint spreading these rumors, isn't it?"
"You know?" Sam was surprised.
"I'm not deaf. And I'm not blind either," Jon said, lowering his eyes.
How many eyes did the Bloodraven have?A thousand—and one more.
How many eyes did Jon Snow have?Two, and another two, and another still.
What secrets at Castle Black could possibly escape him?
Sam added, "And Ser Alliser. He—"
Jon interrupted, "Ser Alliser is Her Majesty Daenerys's man. He's just echoing Slint."
"Mm, Ser Alliser is different from Lord Janos Slynt." A look of realization flickered in Sam's small grey eyes.
One had powerful backing, though he was a bit of a loudmouth—still, he fought bravely. (Alliser: It's not like I want to be brave.) The other had no backing, liked to blabber, and held a blood grudge against House Stark.
Jon smiled faintly. "When Lord Commander Mormont was still alive, he had planned to send a group of Night's Watch brothers to Greyguard.
Sam, go inform Ser Janos Slynt. Have him select fifteen brothers of the Night's Watch and fifteen wildlings. They will depart tomorrow morning and assume command at Greyguard.
As for Ser Alliser, he was already stationed at Eastwatch. Let him return there and oversee matters concerning the wildlings heading south."
Greyguard had been abandoned for many years. Its buildings had mostly collapsed into ruins, making it the worst among the nineteen castles.
Moreover, Jon had deliberately twisted Lord Mormont's original order.
At first, the Old Bear did intend to send men to Greyguard, but after discovering it was completely uninhabitable, he immediately changed the plan—
And switched Greyguard with the nearby castle, Stonegate.
"There's something else. A letter from the Citadel arrived. The maesters deny Archmaester Perestan's claims. They insist the Wall is lying—that there are no White Walkers, no Long Night.
They even accuse us of abandoning the Watch's neutral stance and becoming the Dragon Queen's lackeys."
As Sam spoke, he fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a letter.
"Damn it!" Jon cursed as soon as he read the opening lines.
No wonder he was furious—the Citadel had outright accused the Night's Watch of lying.
They cursed Lord Commander Jon as a "vile, greedy bastard" who fabricated the existence of White Walkers beyond the Wall just to gain support from the Seven Kingdoms.
"What did Archmaester Perestan say?" Jon tossed the letter on the table, his face dark.
"He was calm. Even after being called a fraud by the Citadel, he didn't get angry. Instead, he had a look on his face like, 'as expected,'" Sam said with some confusion.
Jon's lips twitched. "He was once part of the Citadel, so of course he understands how they operate. I meant, what does the archmaester plan to do?"
"Her Majesty Daenerys wrote to say that Dragonstone is working around the clock to mine dragonglass weapons.
In at most two months, countless dragonglass arrowheads and short swords will be ready, to be transported by Ser Stygga of Crab Isle.
With weapons in hand, we need people to wield them. Not just new recruits—we need skilled knights, officers of noble birth to lead the wildlings.
We also need armor, warhorses, blacksmiths, craftsmen...
Dragonstone is barren and cannot supply those things.
Her Majesty Daenerys has already gone above and beyond her duty. Now, the Wall needs the support of the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms!"
"The archmaester asked me to go to the Citadel," Sam said. "He said words are like the wind, and not even a storm can wake a gray-robed sheep pretending to sleep. Only real White Walkers and wights can wake them up—just like what happened to him."
"All right," Jon nodded lightly. "That's exactly why we paid such a high price to capture a White Walker—to show the nobles, the Citadel, the Iron Throne, the church, and the people with their own eyes what's coming. To make them understand the Long Night is approaching."
After a moment of thought, Jon added, "I'll appoint Dareon as the new wandering crow and have him accompany you south.
We don't know how the nobles will react, so we must act with urgency and recruit more brothers ourselves."
Members of the Night's Watch were often called "crows" because of their black cloaks. Those who traveled across the Seven Kingdoms to recruit new members were called "wandering crows."
Wandering crows didn't need to stay at the Wall. They roamed the Seven Kingdoms, collecting donations, funds, and prisoners from lords, then brought them all back to the Wall.
The most famous wandering crow was Yoren—the one who saved Arya in King's Landing.
In fact, old Maester Aemon was now also a wandering crow.
He had retired with his great-grandniece, but officially, he still belonged to the Night's Watch.
He had simply gone from being a maester to a wandering crow.
Wandering Crow Aemon was responsible for acquiring dragonglass weapons.
He hadn't done a single day of manual labor—but the mission was going surprisingly well.
"Which White Walker should I bring south?" Sam asked. "The smaller one, or the big one with its limbs removed?"
"The big one, of course," Jon replied without hesitation.
"Jon, have you considered this? That big one can raise the dead! It might reanimate corpses all along the journey," Sam said seriously.
"Then kill it. Use a dragonglass weapon. Any wights it reanimates will die again once it's dead," said Jon.
"If I kill it, what am I going to show the Citadel?" Sam replied flatly.
"Uh..." Jon was momentarily stunned.
"How about we bring both?" Sam suggested. "I'll ask Melisandre if she can use some sort of magic seal to suppress their powers."
Sam nodded, then asked, "When do I leave? Should I wait for the Dragon Queen's White Knight to arrive and head south with the wildlings, or—?"
"The sooner, the better," Jon said immediately. "Pack your things tomorrow. You'll leave the day after.
First go to Eastwatch and ask Cotter Pyke to arrange a ship to Braavos. From there, hire a fast vessel to Oldtown."
"But... I'll be carrying a White Walker and a wight. Will anyone even let me board?" Sam asked hesitantly.
"We've got money!" Jon reminded him.
With a grand gesture and a bold tone, he declared, "You'll have five thousand gold honor coins for travel—enough to book a top-tier cabin and drink Arbor Gold every day!"
"We can just lock the White Walker in a crate. No need to be so extravagant," Sam muttered with a sheepish smile.
A strange glint flickered in Jon's eyes. In a low voice, he said, "Take Gilly with you."
(End of Chapter)
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