Chapter 23: Is the Plot Unstoppable?
"It's an old watchtower from the original Winterfell. I heard it was struck by lightning over a hundred years ago, caught fire, and was abandoned." Egger's heart skipped a beat, but he quickly suppressed his emotions and answered truthfully. He didn't dare fabricate anything when a simple question to any resident of the castle would provide the answer. "I've been inside; it's filthy and cluttered, and the stairs going up are no longer safe to walk on."
"It's right that it was abandoned; Winterfell has no need for watchtowers." Cersei followed her brother's gaze toward the Broken Tower, a contemptuous curve touching her lips. "In a castle as cold and gloomy as this, who would be foolish enough to lead an army to attack and seize it?"
"Don't say that; to some of these little wolves, there's no place like their own den, no matter how drafty," Jaime shrugged with a chuckle. "And what's the story with that fortress?"
Egger could only pretend not to understand their mockery of House Stark as he helplessly introduced the First Keep to the Kingslayer. Jaime listened and nodded noncommittally, then asked seemingly at random, "Brother of the Watch, why do you train here? The Winterfell practice yard isn't far."
"I... prefer solitude." He thinks I'm in the way, Egger thought, a sense of foreboding rising. He quickly explained, "Too much noise severely affects my performance."
"Is that so? Then I wish that every wildling you encounter in the future is a quiet, well-mannered gentleman or lady." Jaime's lips curled upward, clearly unimpressed by Egger's excuse. "Dear sister, shall we go inside and take a look?"
"In there?" The Queen frowned, looking up once more at the dilapidated ancient fortress.
What is happening?
Could it be that even my presence here can't stop the plot?
Do these two, in their audacity, dare to ignore my presence and enter the First Keep?
Egger felt as if an invisible hand were clutching his throat, his breathing becoming ragged. "My Lord... it is filthy and cramped up there. There is nothing but rats and spiders."
"I'm not expecting to find anything; it's pure curiosity..." Jaime gave a confident smile and turned back to Cersei. "Dear sister, if you aren't afraid of rats and spiders, shall we go up for an adventure? Who knows, we might find some ancestral Stark treasure hidden in a crack in the wall."
...
"An adventure? How old are you?" She knit her brows, her tone clearly a thin veil for her true intent. "As you wish. Just be careful."
"It's called staying young at heart. A Queen who spends her days frowning will age far too quickly. Come." Jaime began walking toward the First Keep. Before leaving, he patted Egger on the shoulder. "Brother of the Watch, stay here and train well. Her Majesty and I will take a turn inside and have a look. We shall try not to disturb you."
What else could Egger say? Jaime wasn't consulting him; he was notifying him. It was common knowledge that the Lannister siblings had grown up together and were exceptionally close; it wasn't a Night's Watchman's place to lecture them. And if he didn't know the plot, who could have guessed what they intended to do inside the First Keep based on their current demeanor and perfectly normal dialogue?
He could only nod in agreement, standing still as he watched the two of them walk toward the ancient fortress and disappear inside.
What do I do?
Egger was at a total loss. It had been a long time since he'd felt this small, powerless sense of being ignored.
Jaime had explicitly told him to train well right here. If he used some excuse to force his way in, he might end up being the one thrown off the tower instead of Bran—and that wouldn't be funny at all.
He was relying on Tyrion to get him away from the Wall. If he offended the dwarf's two powerful older siblings, he likely wouldn't even know how he died in the future.
In that split second, countless ideas raced through his mind, but he discarded them one by one. After some thought, he decided to do exactly what the Kingslayer said—stay here and continue training.
He would act as a lookout, while also keeping an eye out for the troublesome child.
It was impossible to stop the Queen and a member of the Kingsguard from touring the First Keep, but stopping a boy of barely ten from a suicidal wall-climb... even if Eddard Stark and his wife found out, they surely couldn't punish him for that!
The plan hadn't failed entirely. Burning with frustration, Egger walked to the target, plucked out the arrows, returned them to his quiver, and went back to his spot to continue practicing.
...
One arrow, then another. Egger vented his indignation into the target. Interestingly, his accuracy was much higher than usual under the circumstances; more than half of his shots landed within the white cloth representing the vitals.
Before he knew it, he had emptied the quiver. Drawing a bow was hard labor, and Egger's arm was beginning to ache. He shook out his arm and moved toward his chair, preparing to pack up and sit down to read for a while.
"You shoot very straight." A small, youthful voice came from overhead, nearly making Egger jump out of his skin. He turned to look and was shocked to find the person he had been waiting for.
Bran Stark, the second son of the Lord of Winterfell. He was young, with skin as fair as powder, blue eyes, and the auburn hair of his mother. An extroverted little lord with a cute face, he was the undisputed favorite among the female residents of Winterfell.
At this moment, the boy who was the center of everyone's affection was sitting on the top of the old inner ward wall, swinging his legs as he looked down at the Watchman. "I can never practice it well; even Arya shoots straighter than I do."
This brat! When did he sneak up there?
Egger had no enemies in this world, and White Walkers wouldn't suddenly pop up in Winterfell. While training in the yard, he had focused solely on guarding the entrance, leaving his head completely unguarded. Under the cover of the wind whistling between the high towers and houses, he hadn't noticed when the boy had arrived.
Egger's heart tightened. He opened his mouth, suddenly realizing he had made a grave error.
He had occupied the training ground at the only passage from the old inner ward to the Godswood, assuming that if he blocked this spot, Bran would have to pass him whether he wanted to climb the Broken Tower or the First Keep. At that point, he could have found a way to stop him from encountering the Lannisters—whether by physically blocking him with an adult's strength or by speaking loudly to alert the man and woman in the tower. Everything would have been under control.
But he had overlooked one thing: the ancient Winterfell was like a giant, ever-growing tree of stone. A grandfather plants a tree, a father adds a tower, a son builds a wall, and a grandson adds a small hall... modified by dozens of generations of Starks, it had grown into a twisted, gnarled mass. The tightly packed buildings, courtyards, and passages made it a sprawling labyrinth of grey stone. For a child who loved to climb, it was the ultimate playground; every roof and connecting wall was a climber's paradise. If necessary, one could travel without ever touching the ground. Bran hadn't come through the old inner ward; he had climbed the wall from somewhere else!
A powerful sense of dread swept through his body. Egger widened his eyes, trying to keep his tone level. "Oh... when you're older and your arms are stronger, you'll naturally shoot straight. But what are you doing up there?"
"Playing. I haven't climbed in ages. I'm going to King's Landing with Father tomorrow, and I might not be back for years... this might be my last climb."
Egger looked up at the boy, estimating the height of the wall to be over three meters—even jumping, he couldn't reach the kid. He would have to rely on persuasion.
"It's too dangerous up there. Come down first, and I can teach you archery."
"No need. Once I'm in King's Landing, I'll have plenty of time to learn... I heard someone say the targets at the King's Landing range are ten times larger than the ones in Winterfell!" Bran swung his legs happily. "With a target that big, I'll never miss a shot!"
"Nonsense! What kind of marksman could be trained with a target that big?" Egger swallowed hard, then noticed an even more startling detail. "Why are you barefoot?"
"Bare feet make climbing easier. Besides, I can walk across the roof of the guardroom without being heard if I don't wear shoes." The boy wore an "admire my cleverness" expression. He pulled in his legs and stood up on the wall, swaying his arms to keep his balance. The Watchman below reached out his hands in a panic, ready to catch him. Then, the boy began walking along the top of the wall toward the guardroom. "I'm going to the top of the Broken Tower to feed the crows. Carry on."
Feed your sister's crows! Egger was frantic. Throwing aside status and rank, he chased the boy along the wall, continuing his plea: "Kid, get down! It's dangerous up there! Even if you don't value your own life, do you know how angry your parents will be if they find out?"
"I've never fallen." Bran didn't look back as he continued along the wall. "Besides, my father allows me to climb. You can never know how beautiful the view is from high up unless you come up here. Someday Robb will be the Lord of Winterfell, but only I have seen the rolling hills and streams outside the walls, and every roof inside them!"
"Risking your life for a view—what is there to be proud of in that?"
"Hmph, you black-clads are so boring. I can't talk sense to you. I'm off."
The boy huffed, ignoring Egger's shouts, and headed straight for the guardroom roof. Having someone watching seemed to make him even more excited; he actually broke into a light jog for the final stretch.
Egger couldn't let it go. He dropped his bow and arrows and ran out from the passage, circling around to the guardroom to keep eyes on him.
Two fully armed guards happened to be walking out of the guardroom door. Egger rushed up to them as if grabbing a lifeline. "The lord's child is on the roof! Aren't you going to do something?"
"What?" The two guards were startled. They looked up at the roof and indeed saw their second young master running barefoot toward the First Keep.
...
"Bah, leave him be." Guard A shook his head.
"We used to have private orders from Lady Stark to try and get Master Bran down whenever we saw him climbing." Guard B sighed. "But the more we shouted and chased, the faster he ran. He treated us like big kids playing cat-and-mouse."
"If it were just play, it would be fine, but he wins every time." Guard A shrugged. "Instead, we're the ones down here terrified for him. After a few times, Jory told us to leave him alone. It's likely the Lord Stark's wish."
"So, Brother of the Watch, the Wall is a hard place. Since you're lucky enough to be in Winterfell, just enjoy yourself. Don't worry about our young master."
The two guards walked away laughing, leaving Egger as anxious as an ant on a hot pan. He watched helplessly as the troublesome child lightly traversed the ridge of the roof and climbed onto the First Keep, which sat adjacent to the Broken Tower. His figure was quickly obscured by the guardroom's structure.
The Watchman stood frozen for a moment, then grit his teeth and stomped his foot, heading back toward the passage to the old inner ward. The plan had been a disaster so far, but if he could find a way to alert the pair "adventuring" inside the tower in time, there was still a chance to turn things around.
...
What Egger did not know was that, as he bid farewell to the two Winterfell guards and returned beneath the First Keep to find another way to prevent Bran's fall, a thousand miles to the north beyond the Wall—deep within a cavern beneath the roots of a massive weirwood tree—an "Oh?" of surprise and suspicion escaped the lips of a being that was both human and more than human.
A common Night's Watchman had repeatedly appeared in exactly the right place at the right time to obstruct his plans, almost as if he were opposing him with a clear objective. At last, even he was becoming curious.
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