Chapter 35: No True Hero Until the Wall is Toppled
Benjen left, and Egger hurried out of the room, intent on finding Tyrion.
From the beginning, Tyrion Lannister had almost exclusively taken the lead in offering help. But Egger was a man of self-awareness. He had used half-truths and lies to pique the dwarf's interest and leave an impression—that was a deliberate, successful, and brilliant performance. However, everything that followed—from providing a viable plan to leave the Wall, to suddenly marching off to demand a man from the Lord Commander and succeeding—wasn't because his own eloquence was god-like or because the other was simple-minded enough to be toyed with.
The truth was: Tyrion's IQ and EQ were high enough to hear, within just a few lines of small talk, that Egger didn't want to join this patrol, and he was simply willing to grant that wish.
Egger sometimes couldn't help but wonder: was the man intrigued by the lies and looking for more stories, or was he... purely, truly... just trying to help a fellow misfit in trouble?
The motive didn't matter. What mattered was that Tyrion had reached out his hand. This help in a time of need would likely save his life and completely alter the trajectory of his future. Such a massive debt of gratitude could probably only be repaid with a lifetime of friendship and loyalty.
But a lifetime of loyalty was no substitute for a face-to-face thank you. Egger stepped out the door and glanced around, quickly spotting his target. In a Castle Black filled with adult men in black, finding a dwarf was remarkably easy.
...
"Tyrion, thank you. I knew you'd pull it off!"
"Of course. Who do you think you're talking to? When the Imp of House Lannister wants something done, who dares stand in the way?" Tyrion tilted his head back with pride. "Though, I must say, I always knew the Starks were poor, but I've only just realized how poor."
"What do you mean?"
"Convincing the Lord Commander and Maester Aemon took little effort, but Benjen Stark insisted on 'talking' to me about the patronage at the end." The dwarf couldn't help but chuckle. "I was prepared to be slaughtered—I figured I'd just borrow some coin from my brother back in King's Landing to settle it. But his asking price nearly made me laugh out loud."
"Was it very low?"
"Not exactly low, but maybe a few months' worth of my allowance. It was less than I had originally planned to offer them, but his solemn expression—as if he were making an outrageous demand—was just too much." Tyrion shrugged. "I played along and acted 'shocked by the price.' After some haggling with the Lord Steward and the Builder he called in, I successfully... wait?"
A few months' allowance? Two or three months is a few, but so is eight or nine. How much was it really? Either Tyrion was puffing his chest, or the Lannisters were truly so wealthy it was beyond comprehension. Egger was waiting for the rest, but the dwarf suddenly made a silencing gesture and signaled for him to follow.
In a place like Castle Black where a shout can be heard by everyone, what required such secrecy? Egger was full of doubt but followed anyway.
They crossed the central training grounds and headed to the armory, where they found Jon.
And a group of recruits.
It was easy to deduce what had happened: a bunch of youths whom Jon had thrashed in the yard had cornered the bastard indoors to teach him a lesson. Tyrion, leaving the Commander's solar, had spotted the situation and, coincidentally sympathizing with bastards and misfits, had followed them. Egger remembered this plot point; he just hadn't known exactly when it would occur.
Seeing the recruits surrounding Jon, Egger frowned. He stepped to the side of the doorway and jerked his head. "Get out."
...
Whether it was his veteran authority or the fact that Tyrion was the Queen's brother, the recruits muttered curses under their breath, left the bastard alone, and cautiously filed past Egger out of the room.
"What's going on?" he asked. He had intended to thank Tyrion and discuss the departure schedule, but with Jon here, it felt wrong to pour salt on the boy's wounds.
"Nothing." Jon turned away, continuing to pack his sparring gear. He sniffed, trying to keep tears from falling. He stripped off his armor, leather, and sweat-soaked wool, pulling on his everyday rough black tunic. He suddenly missed Winterfell terribly—missed his brothers and sisters... even Sansa, who was never close to him.
No one had told him the Night's Watch would be like this. Only the dwarf and Egger had spoken some truths to him. But at the time, his head was full of dreams of slaying the ancient enemies of man like the ranger before him, fighting alongside his brothers to repel tens of thousands of wildlings, and proving he was no lesser than any trueborn son. But here, even survival was a struggle.
Did his father know the true state of the Wall? He was Warden of the North; he had to know. Yet, when Jon asked to join, Lord Stark had agreed without hesitation or warning. That thought hurt Jon the most.
Was the affection of the past just a mask? Beneath it, did his father actually despise him?
...
"No wonder," Jon said in a muffled voice, struggling to hide his grievance. "No wonder you're doing everything you can to leave this place. This godsforsaken hole... it's so cold."
"Yes, it's cold." Just cold? It's bitter and perilous too, Egger thought. No matter how mature or strong the boy appeared, he was still just a child. "You have to look at it from another angle. I'm only getting a chance to leave because I happened to meet a kind-hearted Great Lord, and I have to return the moment I'm summoned. You, however—as long as you quit before taking your vows—can return to Winterfell whenever you like and never set foot here again."
Jon didn't respond. He could return at any time, theoretically. It was impossible not to be tempted. But his father, who protected him, had left for King's Landing, and Lady Stark was now in charge of Winterfell. Catelyn Tully's attitude toward him could be described as nothing short of hatred. Going back meant better food and a warm bed, but he might find it less comfortable than staying at the Wall.
Since he had come to the Wall, he could never go back. To put it nobly, he valued honor over pleasure; to put it bluntly, he was suffering for the sake of his pride. Like Tyrion, who had just been fleeced in the Commander's office, Jon would choose his pride.
"If you choose to stay, you need to think about how to fit in." Egger understood the dilemma. Seeing Jon's silence, he continued, "To be a Crow is to stay here for life. Whether that life is long or short is entirely in your own hands. If you keep using the skills Ser Rodrik taught you to bully the sons of farmers, smiths, and miners—even orphans—and venting your frustration on your fellow recruits, sooner or later, a brother will put a knife in your gut when you aren't looking."
"I saw your bouts this morning," Tyrion added, stepping closer. "That wasn't practice. If you'd used real steel, they'd be dead several times over. You humiliated them without mercy. I recall—you joined the Watch after hearing Egger's tales of Others and wildling armies. Do you really feel proud of defeating people who have never even touched a real sword?"
Jon's face reddened. He had felt proud of those wins.
"He's a smart lad; he understands the world. He's just had a string of bad luck and his mind is temporarily unbalanced." Egger didn't plan to be as sharp-tongued as Tyrion. The dwarf didn't fear offending people, but Egger couldn't afford that. Facing a potential protagonist, he was willing to offer some kindness. "Jon, let's speak plainly. We both know you chose this path to do something great. But have you ever considered: if the Wall was a place where you could do great things and live comfortably, why would they be short on men?"
"I—" Jon was speechless. Egger was always so reasonable, but what he needed right now was comfort!
"It is often said that before the universe grants a person true greatness, it first breaks them down. It tests their spirit with sorrow, exhausts them with labor, and starves them of comfort. It will shatter their plans time and time again, all to forge an unbreakable resolve and sharpen them for the trials ahead."
The boy interrupted him testily. "Easy for you to say. Why aren't you staying to endure the hardship with me?"
"I'm not a bastard." Egger shrugged, slipping into his persona of a minor noble. "I'm an only son. I don't need to do 'great things' to prove anything. As long as I can return home safely, I'll inherit my family's estate... but you can't. I don't look down on bastards, Jon. Your birth was your father's mistake, but this world is cruel—you have to pay the bill for your father's error." Because the boy was already down, Egger softened his tone. He wasn't there to lecture. "If you really feel lost, tell you what: let me point a way forward for you."
Jon looked up at Egger, waiting for the rest.
...
"What do you think is the greatest glory a Man of the Night's Watch can achieve?"
"To do his duty faithfully and keep the North and the Seven Kingdoms safe."
"No. What you described is just the basic mission of a qualified Crow." Egger shook his head, bluntly dismissing the answer. "The greatest achievement for the Night's Watch is to eliminate the Night's Watch and topple the Wall."
Support me on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/MistaQuartz
On Patreon, you can explore Extra Chapters in advance!