Chapter 28: The Journey North
In contrast to the journey south from the Wall over a month ago, Egger's return meant enduring the unpleasant reality of temperatures dropping lower, roads growing narrower, and signs of human life becoming increasingly sparse. Three days after leaving Winterfell, the farmlands and villages gradually vanished. They were approaching the desolate belt of no man's land between the Wall and the territories under the direct governance of the Warden of the North. The trees of the Wolfswood grew deeper and denser, and the Kingsroad slowly withered into a mere forest trail.
With the mountains to the west and the path leading northeast, the weather turned colder than before. Nighttime temperatures had long since plummeted below freezing. Whenever the north wind howled, it cut like a knife through the thick sheepskin cloaks they kept tightly wrapped. Furthermore, the distant, rhythmic howling of wolf packs echoed through the forest; whenever the sound reached them, the small white direwolf following Jon would prick up its ears, though it never called back.
A week into the journey, at the edge of the Wolfswood just before entering the New Gift, they rendezvoused with the Night's Watch Wandering Crow, Yoren, who was waiting at a timbered manor. A Wandering Crow was essentially a recruiter for the Watch—an officer responsible for scouring the realm for dregs, criminals, and the desperate to bring back to the Wall, where they became the Crows the wildlings spoke of.
This Yoren looked nothing like the honest, simple soul from the original story. His fierce expression and a beard so thick it nearly swallowed his features could make a child cry at first glance; one look told you he was a hard man not to be trifled with. He had brought along two ragged youths from the Fingers.
"Rapists," Yoren muttered. Even the fiercest Wandering Crow was still just a functionary. He nodded to the two rangers and provided a succinct introduction to the new recruits. Westeros had a simple, brutal way of punishing common criminals, especially in the North: they cut off whatever part committed the crime. Thieves lost hands, slanderers lost tongues, and those who stood on the wrong side of a political divide lost their heads. For these two... clearly, as hard as life on the Wall was, it was far better than being made eunuchs.
With the groups merged, they were now nine men and one wolf. Jon Snow spent the journey staring at Yoren and his two sullen companions, his expression growing strange as he lapsed into a bewildered silence. Egger, watching the change in the boy, understood the cause: the bastard had only ever met Benjen and Egger as representatives of the Watch, and he had clearly mistaken the Black Brotherhood for a collection of similarly upright men. He likely didn't realize that Egger had only been chosen for the Winterfell trip because of his decent looks, literacy, clear mind, and silver tongue.
Evidently, Yoren and the two rapist-recruits served as a jarring wake-up call. Egger felt a pang of pity for him; the path Jon had chosen—or rather, the path forced upon him by his birth—was a grueling one.
Tyrion was of no help when it came to pitching or breaking camp. He was too small, and his waddling gait only made him an obstacle. Thus, whenever they stopped to settle, the dwarf would wrap himself in furs, grab a wineskin, and head off to read alone while the others pitched tents, tended the horses, and built fires for warmth.
This evening, once the work was done, Egger found Tyrion by the edge of the camp as was his habit.
"What are you reading?"
"A book about dragons. I took it from the Winterfell library with Lord Eddard's permission; I need to finish it quickly so it can be returned." Tyrion rested the book on his knees, tilting it so Egger could see. "What I'm reading today is the account of the Battle of the Field of Fire."
"What was that?"
"One of the battles of Aegon's Conquest. In that fight, King Loren Lannister of the Rock and King Mern Gardener of the Reach combined their forces to resist the Targaryen conquest. The allied army consisted of six hundred lords, five thousand knights, and over fifty thousand sellswords and infantry. The Targaryen force was roughly one-fifth that size, mostly recruited from previously defeated enemies whose loyalty was questionable." The dwarf, knowing Egger had only recently mastered the Westerosi script and still struggled with reading, summarized the contents. "The two armies met on the flat, fertile fields of the Reach. The Allies charged, and the Targaryen army broke and fled instantly. For a few minutes, the text says—'It seemed the years of conquest were about to end... but those were the minutes before Aegon Targaryen and his two sisters joined the fray.'"
Egger had already guessed the outcome. "Then the dragons joined in, and the tide turned instantly. Surely everyone in the Seven Kingdoms knows that story."
"True, but this was the only time in history that Vhagar, Meraxes, and Balerion all attacked at once. More men were burned to death by dragonfire that day than in all the other battles of the Conquest combined. After the 'Field of Fire' and the 'Burning of Harrenhal,' the other kings realized they couldn't win by holding castles or attacking in the field. So, the Starks of the North and the Arryns of the Vale surrendered without a fight. Six of the Seven Kingdoms were unified shortly thereafter."
"The side with dragons was a complete steamroller. The battle might look good on paper, but it has no military value for reference."
"Of course, I'm just reading for entertainment. Why would I need military reference?" The dwarf gave Egger a puzzled look, though he quickly dismissed it, remembering the man was a soldier of the Watch. "House Gardener was wiped out in that battle, and House Tyrell became the rulers of Highgarden... Thank the gods my ancestor escaped the dragon's maw and surrendered decisively, or I wouldn't be here today reflecting on the battle across time."
Egger wasn't familiar with many of this world's proper nouns, and it only just clicked that the Lannisters were among Aegon's opponents at the Field of Fire. No wonder Tyrion was paying such close attention to this specific battle.
"Why are you both reading again?" Jon Snow walked over, still looking sullen. The First Ranger was his kin, but the Wandering Crow and the other recruits were nothing like he imagined. Feeling out of place, the boy found that only Egger and the dwarf were approachable.
"Is there a problem with reading?" Egger spoke up before Tyrion could. "Jon, how old are you?"
"Fourteen."
"You're only fourteen, yet you're taller and stronger than many farmers' sons at twenty. Why do you think that is?"
"Maester Luwin says that bastards grow faster than other children."
"You're fourteen and you still believe tales meant for toddlers?" Egger let out an unabashed chuckle. "Who is older, you or Robb?"
"We're the same age," Jon said, his mood dipping further. "I don't know my exact name day, but Robb is likely slightly older."
"You're the same age, but from what I saw, Robb is a bit larger than you. What happened to bastards growing faster?" Egger smiled. "Let me tell you: you've grown taller and stronger than your peers because you eat better than most people in this world! Many farmers' children lack proper nutrition during their key developmental stages and will never reach your height, but you've had fish and meat at every meal, plus vegetables grown in the glass gardens of Winterfell..."
"Under my father's rule, almost no one in the North goes hungry!"
"Being full isn't the same as eating well. For a single meal, a balanced feast and a bowl of coarse grain porridge might feel the same in your stomach, but over fourteen years, the gap becomes obvious."
"Perhaps, but what does that have to do with reading?"
"We have a saying: every bite you eat becomes part of your body," Egger said. "The rest goes—every book you read becomes part of your soul; every friend you make becomes part of your circle."
"And your body, your soul, and your circle—perhaps with a bit of luck—are essentially all a person is," he summarized. "So, I try to eat well, I try to read as much as I can, and I try to befriend those worth knowing... Don't ask why people are reading again. Lord Tyrion may be shorter than you, but his soul is far heavier."
The boy blinked a few times, nodding thoughtfully. The dwarf, meanwhile, had a peculiar expression. He was used to flattery, but it was rare to hear it delivered with such artistry and genuine appeal. He looked at Egger with renewed interest, finding the man increasingly fascinating. "Egger, do you know? At first, I thought you were an accountant for the Watch. A moment later, I thought you were a lying charlatan. Then you became an adventurer from another continent... and now you're a philosopher."
Egger laughed. "Am I? Well, those identities don't necessarily contradict one another."
He wasn't missing any opportunity to get close to Tyrion; whether he could leave the Wall legitimately now depended entirely on whether the little man took his plight to heart. However, while his words were meant to please, they weren't fabricated—eating well, reading well, and making good friends were his principles long before he transmigrated. And though the dwarf before him was physically impaired and rife with vices, he was undoubtedly one of the most worthwhile people to know in this world.
Jon was still young; while he felt Egger's words made sense, they didn't quite resonate with his soul yet. After Egger's long lecture, he found himself feeling hungry. He looked toward the camp. "Dinner should be ready soon. Let's head back."
"Aye, let's go. We haven't finished the good stuff from King's Landing yet, though I'm not sure if there's enough meat to go with the wine."
...
The camp was a welcoming sight: the men had built a windbreak against an old stone wall, the horses were fed, the fire was roaring, and Yoren sat on a rock skinning a fresh kill. The scent of thick stew filled the air. Tyrion waddled over to the servant, Mauris, who was stirring the pot. He took the long ladle, had a taste, and handed it back.
"Add more pepper."
Egger sat down at a makeshift table, ready to enjoy his meal. But just as his backside touched the ground, several swish sounds cut through the air. Accompanied by several arrows hitting the dirt—and one even piercing the large stew pot—they were under attack.
"Ambush!"
Yoren dropped his half-skinned prey, let out a roar, and drew his sword.
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