Aegor was also staring at the fire, lost in thought.
Cotter Pyke staying at Castle Black instead of leaving surprised him greatly. The good news was that this meant the loaned grain arriving across the sea was unlikely to face problems at Eastwatch-by-the-Sea's port. The bad news was that he now seemed obligated to honor his earlier promise to create a position like Deputy Commander for Denys Mallister and consult him on any future changes to the Night's Watch's laws.
Could it be that Denys had written to Cotter Pyke to tell him not to leave?
Still, he did not plan to dwell on it or try to counter Denys's maneuver. Compared to what he had already accomplished in the Gift, backed by the Night's Watch industry's strength and his good relations with House Stark, this minor scheming was harmless. Besides, the privilege he had lost in their wager had no written contract or legal standing. Whether it was honored depended entirely on a verbal agreement.
And verbal agreements were for gentlemen, not scoundrels.
If Denys managed Shadow Tower well and faithfully guarded the westernmost end of the Wall for him, without any major incidents, Aegor would gladly be the "gentleman." But if some unavoidable change occurred, the choice to burn bridges or discard the donkey after crossing the river would be entirely his. There was nothing to worry about.
This was the benefit of being Lord Commander. With a proper title, his words carried weight. His power might not have grown overnight, but from now on, the Gift, an area nearly the size of the Crownlands, was within his sphere of influence. As long as he did not provoke divine wrath or violate the North's interests, whatever he chose to do, no one would dare point fingers.
More than Shadow Tower, Cotter Pyke at Eastwatch-by-the-Sea troubled him more, especially with Yohn Royce, the former Lord of Runestone, still by his side.
Enemies were easy to make and hard to deal with. In the cliché of countless tales, those he had offended, if not killed, would linger in the shadows, only to strike at a critical moment and ruin important matters.
You can watch for a thief for a thousand days, but you cannot guard against him for a thousand days. Aegor still had many plans to see through and could not keep an eye on Yohn Royce constantly. Preventing that classic "raise a tiger to be bitten later" scenario required serious thought.
…
While he pondered, the sword at his waist suddenly began to tremble.
At first, Aegor thought someone passing behind him had bumped his scabbard. But after turning his head, he saw everyone standing still in solemn mourning. Instead, the trembling from the sword belt grew stronger and even began to hum. It was as if someone had hidden a vibrating device inside the hilt.
Like anyone else would, Aegor instinctively gripped the hilt and, after holding it for a moment, drew the blade slightly to see what was happening.
The sound of a dramatic "screech" existed only in his imagination. In reality, aside from the faint friction of metal, he heard nothing.
But the moment the small section of blade near the hilt was exposed to air, it erupted with blinding light. The brightness was like staring directly into a welding arc, forcing Aegor to turn his head away at once. In his hand, the steel sword had become a sun forged from metal. Even before it was fully drawn, the light was intense enough to dim the flames of the pyre.
Everyone instinctively shielded their eyes or turned away, but the light was not only blinding. It seemed to pulse, shifting color in a steady rhythm, casting its glow across Castle Black and the nearby stretch of the Wall as if dozens of searchlights had been aimed at them.
While the crowd was still stunned, Aegor was the first to react. He pressed the sword back into its scabbard with his palm.
The light vanished instantly, and their vision seemed to darken, as if night had suddenly fallen.
Several seconds later, as their sight returned, the Night's Watch erupted into a noisy uproar.
Had it not been the weapon of the new Lord Commander, someone might already have stepped forward to draw it themselves to satisfy their curiosity.
…
"Why hide it? That is your glory, Commander," Melisandre's voice rang out through the noise. She did not seem to raise her volume, yet it carried as if amplified. She pointed at Aegor. "The Lord of Light has seen the crisis facing his people and has sent the prophesied hero, bestowing upon him the power of fire. That sword is Lightbringer, and the hero foretold will wield it to lead us in defeating our ancient enemies, passing through death, despair, and failure, and into a bright future."
The Red Priestess was not popular at the Wall, but after witnessing her powers, few dared to call her a fraud. Her words instantly stirred the crowd.
"So that's Lightbringer?"
"Where did he get it?"
"If it's that bright, how can he fight the White Walkers without going blind?"
"Maybe just shining it on them will melt them!"
"Hells, if that's true, I could do it too!"
As the legendary sword of Azor Ahai, Lightbringer's name was well known. This claim sparked even louder discussion. Some of the brothers who had already converted to the Lord of Light even gazed at Aegor with open fanaticism.
Aegor's face darkened.
No one knew better than him what his weapon really was. It was neither Valyrian steel nor the work of a master smith. It did not even have a name. It was a standard steel sword, purchased in bulk from weapons merchants in King's Landing, likely forged by apprentices or common smiths rather than masters. It might be of slightly better quality than the one broken by a White Walker three years ago, but Lightbringer? Impossible.
He glared at Melisandre. In his vision, still spotted from the blinding glare, a black circle obscured the center, preventing him from even focusing on her face. He had to fix his gaze on the hem of her robes instead.
"Melisandre, we will discuss this sword tonight. For now, I need to speak frankly to all the brothers of the Night's Watch. If you do not plan to take the black, please excuse yourself." His voice was cold as he tilted his head. "Jon, escort Melisandre back to her chambers."
Having just declared a miracle and ready to press her advantage, she was suddenly ordered to leave. Melisandre froze, a flicker of doubt and displeasure crossing her face. But in the next moment, she composed herself and bowed slightly. "In that case, I will obey the Commander's command."
Aegor was truly angry. It was not that she had created a miracle to build his momentum, nor even that his eyes had been nearly blinded. It was that she had not warned him beforehand.
Melisandre was one of the few people willing to devote everything to the defense of the Wall, and she wielded great power. Aegor valued her highly. But that did not mean he would tolerate her acting independently here. He was accustomed to working by plan.
His plan for today was clear: hold the succession ceremony, rebuke his former opponents, and issue his first set of orders as Lord Commander.
Her actions had not only disrupted that plan but had also challenged his authority.
Becoming a hero, raising his personal prestige, even becoming an object of worship—all of that was useful for boosting morale and securing the Gift. But the order of importance mattered. Was his authority strengthened by the hero's title, or did it rely entirely on it?
If it was the latter, he would rather have none of it. Anything granted by others could be taken away just as easily. Aegor had built his position step by step and trusted in his own ability. Influence that rested on such an unstable foundation was unnecessary.
And this was not the first time she had acted on her own.
Was it deliberate, or did she truly lack political sense?
Either way, it was time to make the point clear. The Wall and the Gift were now his, Aegor's. Whatever Melisandre wished to do, she would need his approval first.
Under the puzzled gaze of the crowd, Melisandre left the courtyard. The tall, slender woman walked past them and out of sight.
As she left, the trembling in Aegor's sword ceased. He did not mention the weapon's strange behavior. The onlookers, uncertain of his thoughts, stayed silent, waiting for the cremation to end.
…
The firewood and bodies glowed golden-red in the flames, gradually blackening as they burned. When the pyre reached its peak, the flames began to falter, flickering in the wind. After a long wait, the final bright flame was extinguished by the next cold gust, leaving a pile of smoking ash. The unburned bones still lay in place, resting quietly in the hot embers.
Only then did Aegor step forward from the ranks of his men. He ascended the steps of Castle Black's hall, leaned on the railing, and prepared to give his succession speech as planned, formally opening the prelude to a new era for the Night's Watch.
(To be continued.)
***
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