Chapter 244: Mounting Troubles
The basket was not like the winch cage; it wasn't connected to a crank or a complex set of gears. It relied entirely on raw human strength to pull. The moment Jaime leaped onto it, several wights also lunged forward and gripped the wicker frame. The combined weight of one man and several monsters caused the tension on the rope to skyrocket, nearly dragging the soldiers holding the other end atop the Wall right over the edge. In that split second, Jaime swung his sword with one hand, severing the section of rope where it tied to the basket. He then decisively discarded his weapon, gripping the rope with both hands to climb upward half a meter. He narrowly evaded the massive palm of the wight-giant that had reached the base of the Wall to snatch him, successfully escaping the tide of death.
Whether their strength was exhausted or they simply did not recognize Jaime Lannister, the White Walkers lurking at the edge of the Haunted Forest did not use any further long-range attacks against the Ranger dangling from the rope. After swinging back and forth in the piercing gale for over ten minutes and making intimate contact with the icy face of the Wall countless times, Jaime finally crested the top of the Wall from the north side for the first time.
"Haaa—" Gasping for air, Jaime scrambled onto the top of the Wall using both hands and feet. After the sweat of battle followed by the freezing wind, his entire body was stiff with cold. He lay on the ground for a long while before finally regaining enough composure to thank the men.
"Save your breath. Get him a blanket and take him to the rooms below," Egger finally convinced Mormont to step away from the edge. "Keep throwing the oil barrels. We cannot let the Great Other turn our fallen brothers into living dead!"
"But my Lord, our reserves are running low..."
"Execute the order! If the oil runs out, it runs out. Soon... we will switch entirely to wildfire! This is the first time the wights have pressed themselves right against the Wall for us to kill. If we don't take this chance to thin them out, we'll regret it later!" Egger had made up his mind: immediately notify Eastwatch to distribute the stabilized wildfire from King's Landing to every fort along the Wall. The war between the living and the dead seemed to be starting sooner than anticipated. "Lord Commander, I suggest that from today, the number of sentries atop the Wall be doubled again. Even when there is no action, no one is permitted to lean over the edge. Someone help carry Ser Jaime away!"
With no further concern for collateral damage, the oil barrels detonated freely at the most crowded point by the iron portcullis, greedily consuming the Great Other's puppets and the corpses on the ground that had not yet risen. Once the army of the dead had eliminated the last living soul on the ground, they quickly retreated from the Wall under remote command.
It was a tragic battle devoid of grand strategy. The White Walkers had successfully prevented the final batch of Wildlings from crossing safely while sowing chaos within Castle Black. Yet, the humans had reasons to be grateful—the Wall's only sorceress, though lured into revealing herself, had survived a near-impossible long-range assassination attempt. The army of the dead had suffered heavy losses under the Watch's fierce bombardment; though they won the round, their numbers were no greater than before the battle.
The remaining wights retreated into the Haunted Forest. The fighting was over, but the trouble the White Walkers had caused for the Night's Watch was far from resolved. Castle Black was now packed with Wildlings: children wailing for their parents, women searching desperately for their husbands, and men angrily demanding why the Crows had dropped the gate early, cutting off their kinsmen's path to life.
Previously, the Watch could ensure the Wildlings disarmed and surrendered grain by relying on an absolute numerical and military advantage over each small batch of new Gift-dwellers. They essentially forced them to accept the arrangements. But now... the number of dissatisfied, angry, or bewildered Wildlings inside Castle Black far exceeded the number of Watchmen and mountain clansmen. This massive group clearly had no intention of following orders.
"Get them away from the Great Gate first. Only when we regain total control of the fortress can we continue the process of turning them into new Gift-dwellers. If we're short on men, pull another hundred from Queensgate..."
Jon Snow peered at the huddling mass of Wildlings, hesitating. "But these people fled in such a hurry; they didn't bring all their grain, and they just lost many loved ones. Even so, must we carry out the original plan?"
"The point isn't forcing them to hand over every scrap they own; it's about integrating them into the social structure of the Gift by teaching them to use currency. That is the easiest way to manage them, understand? Even if they lost most of their belongings in the flight, even if they just lost kin outside the gate, the plan cannot be disrupted. Otherwise, the losses will only continue to grow!" Egger shook his head. "Alright, go handle it. Don't let things spiral out of control. I need to go into a meeting with the Lord Commander."
"How many brothers were on duty in the stockade today?"
"Thirty, Lord Commander. When the gate was opened for the last time, ten came inside to guide the Wildlings. Of the remaining twenty, only Ser Jaime was rescued."
It was a blessing in disguise, but someone was clearly unsatisfied. "Nineteen brothers! All for a mere two thousand more mouths—people who fled so fast they didn't even bring all their food!"
Bowen Marsh stared directly at Egger as he spoke, clearly targeting him. The Lord Steward was the quintessential conservative among the Watch's leadership; he had long been dissatisfied with Egger's radical schemes, though he'd been powerless while Commander Mormont supported them. Now that such a major incident had occurred, he finally had grounds to attack.
Egger, however, had no intention of backing down.
"Lord Marsh believes those nineteen brothers are more important than these thousands who will become new Gift-dwellers. That is a touching sentiment for our comrades, and I won't argue it. But as Lord Logistics Officer, I am accustomed to measuring events by numbers. We lost nineteen brothers, but we gained nearly three thousand new Gift-dwellers. Even if only one percent of them can fight, it offsets the loss." Egger continued, "Furthermore, I'm sure you lords have heard the concept of 'spearwives'."
"Aye, the Wildling women can fight. Out of three thousand, perhaps a thousand can fight. I'll admit, when the White Walkers hit the Wall, they'll likely stand with us... but what if they turn cloak today and riot in Castle Black? Or what if they conspire with the remnants scattered in the Haunted Forest to take the Wall from within?"
"We've already discussed this. The responsibility for preventing that lies with me." Egger shrugged. "Control Mance Rayder and his family, disperse the tribes that might unite... then ride them with a complete social system. In less than six months, they will be as law-abiding and hardworking as any peasant in the Seven Kingdoms."
"No more arguing over this. I chose Egger's gamble, and it's too late to regret it now." Mormont rapped the table, ending the debate. "The Wildlings in the castle—have they been moved out?"
"Jon is handling it now."
"What do we do with such a large crowd?"
"Settle them temporarily in the ruins of Mole's Town outside Castle Black. Once the reinforcements from Queensgate and Sable Hall arrive, surround their camp and force them through the same procedure to become new Gift-dwellers."
"You must have noticed: the people who came through today have far less grain than the previous groups. Our resource situation has worsened again. How do we solve it?"
"Start the second step of our plan early—take ten to twenty days to let the new Gift-dwellers get used to 'working for coin'." Egger replied, "Then, I will organize a massive 'grain run.' I'll organize two to three thousand men to head south into the North—specifically the regions being harassed by Ironborn—and bring back food."
"The Wildlings likely won't risk their lives for you so easily."
"I will pretend to 'accidentally discover' that the Ironborn occupy half the North only once we arrive. Then I'll tell them—if we don't drive off these pirates to get the North's grain, we will all starve in the winter. At that point, they won't have a choice."
"If we want to use this Ironborn invasion to win favor and grain from the Northern lords, we had better hurry," Maester Aemon coughed, speaking shakily. "The latest news from the south says King Stannis failed to retake Storm's End but returned to crush the Reach army... a true rout this time. It's said even Lord Tarly was struck by a stray arrow while trying to rally his broken troops and died on the spot."
Mormont frowned. "Does Sam know?"
"No. It is only a rumor; no body was found, so it's not certain." The old Maester shook his head and continued, "Furthermore, word comes from the Nightfort. They intercepted several people trying to sneak into the fortress—three children and a giant of a simpleton. From the description, it is undoubtedly Bran Stark and the Reed siblings. How shall we handle this?"
Bran Stark was intercepted before he could go beyond the Wall?
Egger was surprised. It seemed the Greenseer was not omnipotent. Strictly speaking, Bran's failure to cross was largely because Egger's resettlement plan had filled the forts along the Wall with people... Had he ruined the Greenseer's plans again? Would he be marked for spite once more?
He grew uneasy. The Greenseer would never simply accept defeat regarding Bran. Whatever measures that entity took, Egger decided he would absolutely not interfere further.
Mormont had no idea about the complexities behind this "runaway brat" incident. He rubbed his chin and reached a simple conclusion: "Send word to Winterfell and have them sent back."
The First Ranger spoke up: "But that requires Watchmen who know the roads. The Nightfort is currently filled with new Gift-dwellers; they don't have the capability to safely escort anyone to Winterfell."
"And the Kingsroad is still plagued by Ironborn. In my view, it should be like when Lady Stark ran here last time—hold the three children, send word to Winterfell, and let them send their own men to fetch them."
"That sounds best. Maester Aemon, I leave this matter to you."
The blind Maester nodded. As the weather grew colder, his health seemed to decline daily; having reported the two pieces of news, he seemed to lack even the strength to speak.
Mormont scanned the room and nodded solemnly. "Fine. Meeting adjourned. All relevant personnel get outside and ensure the Wildlings who crossed today are moved beyond the walls... and set patrols to make sure they don't wander off."
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