Chapter 32: Demanding a Man (Part I)
"Tyrion." The Lord Commander nodded to the dwarf from behind his desk. As the former Lord of Bear Island and a high lord of the North, his seniority and status were more than enough to address the other by his first name. "Has your stay at the Wall been pleasant enough?"
"My thanks for the concern, Lord Commander. Aside from a numb backside and shivering through the nights, everything has been grand." Tyrion sat across from him with a wide smile. "Though I must admit, being mugged by a pack of wildlings on the road between the Wolfswood and the New Gift was a novel experience. Stimulating, to say the least."
"It is the responsibility of the Night's Watch to keep the wildlings behind the Wall. Please accept our apologies."
"Oh, you're forgiven." Tyrion shrugged noncommittally, adjusting his posture to make his seat more bearable. "Having spent a few days here, I've gained some understanding of the Watch's current state, and I truly haven't the heart to blame you... but reasonably speaking, regardless of how short-handed you are, stopping wildlings is your duty. This time I had Benjen and his men to protect me, but if one day wildlings roam into the heart of the North and attack the smallfolk or kin of the Ambers, Karstarks, or even the Starks—well, that would be a massive headache... wouldn't you say?"
"Indeed. Wildlings climb the Wall through the gaps between our three fortresses, row across the Bay of Seals past our two measly longships, and slip through the Gorge by the Shadow Tower in droves. The Night's Watch tries to stop them all, but our strength is simply insufficient." Mormont's brow furrowed into a deep knot. "I have already had Maester Aemon send warnings to the Northern lords, and Lord Stark seems to have promised a force for my temporary command. Unfortunately, there's no telling when they will be assembled and delivered to me."
"Lord Stark is a good liege... unfortunately, even a god couldn't stop the decline of the Night's Watch. It pains me truly to see the legendary shield that guards the realms of men fall to such a state." Tyrion put on a look of profound regret. "Therefore, I have decided to provide a measure of financial patronage to the Night's Watch."
"Pardon?"
...
Even for someone as seasoned and steady as Mormont, he couldn't help but stare in shock. The population of the Gift and the New Gift under the Watch's jurisdiction had dwindled to fewer than ten thousand, making it impossible to sustain an army of nearly a thousand men. Thus, whether admitted or not, patronage had gradually become the primary source of the Black Brotherhood's provisions and pay.
As Lord Commander, he was well-practiced in requesting aid—in fact, he had been looking for an opportunity to plead poverty to the Queen's brother. He hadn't expected the man to offer it voluntarily before he could even open his mouth. In his excitement, his form of address changed instantly: "That... that would be wonderful, my Lord. The Night's Watch will be grateful for your generosity and your regard for the greater good!"
"Mhm, let's not be in such a hurry. There is one condition—I wish to designate a man to accompany me to King's Landing to receive my 'patronage'."
"Who?"
"Egger. The ranger from across the Sunset Sea whom you sent to Winterfell not long ago."
"A reasonable request," Mormont calmed down instantly. He stared at Tyrion for a moment and said tentatively, "But the rangers are short-staffed as it is. He would need to return promptly."
"I haven't finished." He saw right through my real intent instantly; not for nothing was he the master of Bear Island for years, Tyrion thought, quickly adding: "He is not only to receive the funds but also to remain in King's Landing as a permanent recruiter and procurer for the Night's Watch."
...
Mormont remained silent for a moment before speaking slowly. "Tyrion, a man's status in the Night's Watch is for life. No one can join and then simply leave."
"I understand and respect that tradition—or rather, the rule," Tyrion cut in. "He will be stationed in King's Landing as a 'Provisions Officer' for the Watch, providing a steady stream of support to the Wall. King's Landing is the largest city and capital of Westeros, home to countless nobles and wealthy men. Securing funding there is quite simple."
Mormont shook his head. "Tyrion, I don't know why you are helping him so, but permit me to be blunt: the Night's Watch lacks everything, but what we lack most are men. Logistics are tight, certainly, but if we don't range and only guard the Wall, we can scrape by on meager rations for a few more months. The Northern lords would never let the Watch starve to death.
"But manpower... that is in a state of severe crisis." The Lord Commander poured out his grievances to the Queen's brother. "We have fewer than a thousand men. Six hundred are here, two hundred at the Shadow Tower, and even fewer at Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. Of these, fewer than a third are actually fit for combat. The Wall is three hundred miles long; think on that. If an enemy attacks, I can only send three men to guard every mile."
"Three and a third," Tyrion yawned. "Hardly enough as it is, so you surely won't miss this one. Besides, King's Landing has a population of five hundred thousand. You could pluck a few from the slums and fill every standing tower in Castle Black. Furthermore, Yoren and the other 'Wandering Crows' are away from the Wall year-round. Why can't Egger be?"
"It's not the same. The Wandering Crows are veterans who have served the Watch for a long time. They no longer have the vigor of their youth and use this as a way to spend their remaining strength... They are rooted here and have nowhere else to go. Not to mention, when we provide for their travel, the coin is calculated precisely to ensure they cannot linger outside for long once the task is done."
Commander Mormont's tone shifted. "But Egger is different. A young, strong, and clever lad like him could live well anywhere you dropped him. If he's let go, we might never find a man to drag him back." He grumbled, "Besides, the Watch isn't short on slum-boys; that's all we get these days—stable boys, thieves, or rapists. Such types can fill a headcount when you're desperate, but the problem is the ratio is too high. We lack the core strength to train, manage, and suppress that rabble. There are perhaps only thirty literate men in the entire Night's Watch, and even fewer who can think, plan, or lead. Lord Tyrion, I was almost tempted to ask you to stay and help, and yet you ask me for a man."
"You think too highly of me. If you'd like, I'm happy to round up every dwarf in Westeros and send them your way."
The old man was in no mood for wit. He shook his head. "I am sorry, but I cannot accept your condition. The patronage is not mandatory, and I ask that you do not mention taking a man away again."
Damn, old men are supposed to be muddled and slow—how is this one as sharp as a tack? Tyrion thought bitterly. He never broke his word in his life, and he hated the feeling of letting a friend down. After a moment's thought, he pulled out his trump card: "Lord Commander, let's do this: I give my word on the honor of House Lannister that Egger will not desert. If I cause you the loss of one capable soldier... I promise to compensate you with over a dozen... none of them thieves or rapists, but men capable of training and managing that rabble for you. What say you to that?"
Mormont sighed helplessly. He had been quite clear in his refusal, but the man wouldn't let it go and had even staked his family's honor... It sounded noble and polished, but Mormont, born of a Great House, understood the subtext: I am taking this man; give me face. It was bordering on... no, it was outright coercion.
The implication was simple: if he didn't agree, he would be making an enemy of the Lannisters.
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