Chapter 229: The Fallen Night's Watchmen
The morning was cold and clear, and everyone waited in the chill for the execution to be carried out. The execution site was a manor house situated on a low hill. The banner of House Stark of Winterfell, the grey direwolf on a white field, fluttered over the manor.
Two deserters from the Night's Watch, having fled the Wall, were easily captured by the Northmen and escorted all the way to Winterfell, to be dealt with by the Lord of Winterfell, Rickard Stark. The deserters wore all-black clothing; their fingers were lost to the bitter cold, and their faces and hands were frostbitten. They were not old, but looked far older than their actual age.
"Prince, your short hair leaves your ears exposed. Don't you feel cold?" Brandon couldn't help but ask. Brandon had abundant, long dark-brown hair and was a tall, robust Wild Wolf. The Wild Wolf was taller and more handsome than the Quiet Wolf. Eddard was a plain, solemn, and boring assistant; he lacked the passion and fervor of his elder brother. The Quiet Wolf, like Stannis Baratheon, lacked that wild charisma.
"I'm fine. I'm not too afraid of the cold!" Rhaegar said with a smile. His silver short hair stood out among the group of barbarians. The surging of hot blood and magic kept him warm.
"The Others!" "The Others in the ice!" the Night's Watch deserters shouted loudly before their death; they had fallen into a state of mental collapse and madness. House Stark's guards pressed their heads onto the black wooden block, awaiting the judgment of the greatsword Ice. The rules of the Night's Watch were like iron law; if these two deserters had returned, they would have been left by the Night's Watch to freeze to death outside or thrown into the Wall as ice bricks.
"The famous scene is repeating itself!" Rhaegar watched the spectacle before him. However, only two Starks were present: Rickard and his eldest son. The Quiet Wolf was absent, the Little Wolf was too young, and the She-Wolf was forbidden to attend. Rhaegar's dragons also didn't like to go out right now; they were enjoying the warmth in Winterfell's heated courtyard. Rhaegar was curious about how these hot springs were formed.
"The Others!" "Did they see the Others?" The lords and knights of the North began to whisper among themselves, as everyone had heard the terrifying stories about the Others. Rhaegar felt that those hairy, bearded Northern lords were also a bunch of savages. Like the others, he watched the two deserters who were about to die. Since he was interested in witnessing this, only Ser Barristan the Bold accompanied him; the other attendants were uninterested, and Rhaegar hadn't specifically notified them. Northerners were also particular about customs: children under nine and noble ladies were not allowed to watch executions.
Rickard removed his bearskin cloak and handed it to his son, Brandon. Then, holding the sword with both hands, he declared loudly:
"In the name of Jaehaerys II Targaryen, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, I, Rickard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, hereby sentence you to death."
With that, Rickard raised the greatsword above his head.
The heads of the Night's Watchmen burst forth like crimson flowers and fell to the ground. The two heads could not be wasted; they needed to be sent back to the Wall and presented to the Lord Commander. Currently, Jeor Mormont, the Old Bear, had not yet joined the Night's Watch, and the Lord Commander was someone else. Rhaegar felt that Ice had drunk its fill of hot blood, seeing as only Northern savages personally carried out executions. However, this sword was not yet polished by centuries of use; the truly ancient one must have been the previous Ice, the legendary ancestral sword wielded for thousands of years. How many people must that sword have killed? It was probably among the most infamous weapons in history, rivaled only by House Targaryen's Blackfyre and Dark Sister. Rhaegar was very interested in that sword, but unfortunately, he didn't know where it had been lost.
"Do you believe in the existence of the Others, Brandon?" Rhaegar asked.
The horses stood still amidst the blood and wind. He and Barristan had also been given bearskin cloaks; the group looked like a band of barbarian invaders.
"Prince, you surely don't believe the nonsense of deserters before they die. I don't believe in those things; they are nothing more than stories told by old grandmothers. The Others, like the Children of the Forest, disappeared over eight thousand years ago!" Brandon said with a laugh.
"Exactly. Rather than the Others, I believe it's a problem with the King-Beyond-the-Wall. The wildlings occasionally rush south. The more they gather, the more deserters there are in the Night's Watch—this is not a good sign! I have never seen the Others, but the war with the wildlings continues." Lord Rickard sheathed Ice and joined their discussion, his stern, long face growing even longer. The lord seemed to carry a faint scent of blood.
Everyone began riding back toward Winterfell.
"Perhaps one day, Winterfell will have no choice. I may need to gather my banners and lead an army north!"
"If that day ever comes, after you call for aid, I will march north from the South and support you with my dragons!" Rhaegar promised Rickard while riding his galloping steed.
The wildlings were increasing, and Rhaegar knew it was because of the Others—the Others drove the wildlings southward, creating a chain reaction. But for the North, they would only believe it was due to the wildlings' restless nature, not the legendary Others. Still, that war would eventually come.
"With the Prince's help, our chances of success are much greater!" Rickard's pressure eased, and a look of joy appeared on his face. This wasn't even a request for aid; southern forces were volunteering to come north, bringing dragons and dragonriders, the strongest army and the greatest swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms.
The wildlings were not easy to defeat. Rickard's grandfather had died fighting them. When Raymun Redbeard, the King-Beyond-the-Wall, crossed the Wall and invaded the North, Lord Willam Stark gathered his army and marched north alongside Harlon Umber, the Drunken Giant. The two armies clashed on the shores of Long Lake. Willam Stark died in the battle and was beheaded. His brother, Artos Stark, killed Raymun and avenged him.
"Father, with deserters appearing so frequently, can the Night's Watch still fulfill its duty?" Brandon asked.
The Night's Watch had originally been established to guard against the Others, but after so many years, had its primary purpose become fighting wildlings instead?
"The Night's Watch can only barely manage, and even that is difficult. Think of your grandfather, who died fighting a wildling invasion that the Night's Watch failed to detect crossing the Wall. But we cannot blame them; they are too weak now, and they suffer constant desertions. Therefore, if the Night's Watch breaks its vows, that is the most terrible thing. They have abandoned their duties and are in dire straits, having lost all bottom lines. The Night's Watch is the barrier guarding our homeland. Here in the North, we respect them greatly. But in the South, many people now call them crows and unwanted men. The Night's Watch can only recruit rapists and murderers from the South!"
"Many people consider exile to the Wall a unique form of torture in Westeros," Rhaegar thought. Most of those who willingly join the Wall are Northern nobles. Otherwise, serfs with death written on their faces, debtors, poachers, rapists, thieves, and unwanted bastards are all sent to the Wall.
"The situation of the Night's Watch is indeed getting worse year by year! I have an elder relative who is currently serving in its ranks. The numbers of the Night's Watch are dwindling severely; if everyone wants to become a deserter, the organization is definitely doomed!" Rhaegar replied.
After the unification of the Seven Kingdoms, the Night's Watch declined year after year, mainly because there were no major wars in the South, making recruitment difficult. Furthermore, after a long period of peace, public perception of the Night's Watch became similar to that of other Northern savages; nobody wanted to come to the bitterly cold lands for such a difficult duty. Historically, the Night's Watch had also suffered multiple mutinies and betrayals.
"The main issue is that their work is truly arduous, and giving up desire and family is too heavy a burden!" Ser Barristan the Bold couldn't help but interject.
At least a White Sword retained his name and professional honor. Being a black brother of the Night's Watch was now considered a gutter profession in the southern kingdoms; people only fled there when they were about to die or had failed utterly in life. But could rapists and murderers truly be treated as brothers?
"We regard the black cloak as an honor, but unfortunately, the nobles and knights of the South won't understand." Rickard sighed.
Winter is coming; it is the responsibility of House Stark to lead the Northmen against wildlings, the Others, and famine. In earlier days, there had been a strong Night's Watch, but now that was gone. During Aegon's Conquest, the Night's Watch had ten thousand men; now, only a little over a thousand remained.
Everyone rode their horses toward Winterfell. The Night's Watch bore a great responsibility but grew increasingly powerless. Rickard's heart was heavy. This current force truly lacked culture and fresh blood, making it difficult to distinguish the good from the bad. The ideal Night's Watch would be a brotherhood that viewed death as returning home, without family ties, never fathering children, taking duty as their wife and honor as their lover.
"Prince Rhaegar, you are one of the most illustrious figures in the world. When you come to the ends of the world, you will understand our needs. The maesters say that the Long Summer is ending and winter is coming—a cruel, bitter winter. This is the environment we face: cold, famine, and a destitute, weakened Night's Watch. During winter, we will need aid more than any other place," Rickard said.
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