Chapter 249: The Funeral
Most of his own people had long since been confirmed as loyal supporters; they didn't need to be won over. All Egger had to do was drop a hint, and they would naturally follow his lead. However, there were exceptions. Their last candid conversation while visiting the mountain clans had significantly closed the distance between Egger and Jaime, but the Lord Logistics Officer had not yet fully brought the Kingslayer into his inner circle. Now, to exploit the leverage of the election rules, Egger needed to pull in every person he could possibly sway.
Unfortunately, the Kingslayer's response nearly made Egger cough up a lungful of blood:
"The brothers who came to the Wall with me were indeed once my father's men, but now they are men of the Night's Watch. They have the right to decide for themselves how to vote, whom to listen to, and whom to follow."
"A fine thing, 'the right to decide for themselves.' Jaime, in terms of sheer naivety, I truly admire you above all others," Egger's temper flared instantly. "You say those men have the right to choose freely, but did you ever stop to think if they had the right to choose whether to come here when they first accompanied you to the Wall?"
Jaime was stunned.
"Did Lord Tywin issue a public call for volunteers to accompany you after you decided to take the black? I think not. Let me guess—he likely ordered a subordinate to handpick fifty elite soldiers and moved them with heavy coin or coerced them through various means. In short: they were coming whether they wanted to or not!" Egger looked Jaime squarely in the eye, pulling no punches. "You never thought about that, did you? To you, raised as the golden child and the future heir of House Lannister, your parents are people, your sister and brother are people... but everyone else? They don't mean a damn thing. As for those fifty young men who came with you, in your subconscious, they probably aren't even people—just a number, right?"
"No... they... they are my sworn brothers now..."
"How many of these men—your countrymen and sworn brothers—can you even name? And do they... do they feel honored to be your 'sworn brothers'?"
Egger pressed him step by step. With a high-born rake like Jaime Lannister, who was often thoughtless and indifferent, nothing less than harsh truths would leave an impact. "I admire and respect your intent to be a good man of the Watch, but you must consider those Westermen lads who came with you! Regardless of how your father 'persuaded' them to join, the fact remains: to ensure you weren't left alone to be bullied, fifty young men who had nothing to do with your mistakes gave up their lives to come to this frozen wasteland. They are destined to live and die here, never to wed or father children! You feel you made too many mistakes and brought crisis to your house, so you resolved to atone here—but what about those fifty? There are barely forty left. Have you grieved for those who died outside the gates of Castle Black, or spared a thought for the forty-odd still living?"
"Enough! Don't think that being Lord Logistics Officer gives you the right to lecture me!" Jaime slammed the table in frustration. Fortunately—though Egger's words were heavy—he hadn't struck at Jaime's most sensitive nerves. He was merely feeling a bit guilty from being exposed, rather than truly angry. "Even if I tell them to follow your lead, can you guarantee they'll ever get to take off the black?"
"I can guarantee it! The Night's Watch will eventually have an exit mechanism. Whether you use it is your business," Egger said firmly. He didn't want to lose control of those forty-plus votes by being too honest about the difficulties. "Even if you don't believe it, you must tell your men of my promise. In your own words—they have the right to decide for themselves whether to trust me."
"Fine, fine. You're a bloody nuisance," Jaime waved him off. "Me and my men will all vote for you. Satisfied?"
"Thank you." Egger breathed a sigh of relief, a smile returning to his face. "However, I don't plan to enter the election at the very start. As for whom to vote for, I'll send someone to notify you when the time comes..."
"You aren't running? What kind of game are you playing?" The Kingslayer frowned, then shrugged. "Forget it. I don't want to know."
"He was once the Lord of Bear Island, the head of House Mormont, who joined the Night's Watch for honor and conviction. In the ten years since taking the black, he remained loyal to his post, devoted his heart and soul, and led his brothers through crisis and hardship..."
High upon the platform, Maester Aemon Targaryen began withJeor Mormont's eulogy in a low, somber tone. At over a hundred years old, he had expected Mormont to be the last Lord Commander he would serve. Who could have guessed that the ever-energetic and healthy Jeor would meet such a sudden, senseless end? As he spoke, feeling the waves of weakness from his aging body, the blind maester felt the heavy sorrow of the old burying the young.
Chronologically speaking, that was certainly the case.
In the center of the courtyard at Castle Black, Egger stood among the crowd, silently watching his old superior lying atop the funeral pyre. His mind was a whirlwind of emotion.
Before he transmigrated, when he was just one of the masses, Egger had felt—like many ordinary people—that leaders should be of the people and walk among the crowds. He used to think motorcades, cleared streets, and heavy security were just for show and an inconvenience to the public.
But after the lesson of the Old Bear's accidental death, Egger truly understood: the moment one becomes a high-level manager or a leader of a faction, one's life is no longer one's own—it belongs to the organization. Failing to mind one's safety allows the malicious or the reckless to find an opening. In the end, like Mormont, a single rioter can ruin the entire board and leave a total mess for those who followed and supported you.
Even if only for the sake of others, one must look to their own safety.
With this mindset, Egger stood surrounded by his trusted soldiers, flanked by Jon and his friends on one side and Jaime and his guards on the other. He silently vowed: if necessary, he would be timid for the rest of his life—paranoid and cautious, never giving anyone the chance to harm him.
"He was Jeor Mormont, and now his watch is ended." In his trance, Egger realized the blind maester had finished the final line. Aemon coughed twice and was helped down from the platform by an assistant.
A ranger stepped forward with a torch and lit the pyre. Due to the circumstances, it wasn't fitting to cremate Mormont at the Nightfort, which was not garrisoned by the Watch, but those transporting the body feared it might rise. The brothers had wrapped their former commander tightly, like a mummy. Fortunately, as the flames began to consume the deceased, no one had to worry about their former leader becoming an enemy.
The fire grew fiercer, and the human shape within soon became indistinguishable. Egger stared blankly at the blaze, waiting for the fire to die down so he could announce the next piece of important news...
But someone spoke first.
"Is that it, then?" Yohn Royce asked loudly. "Burn Commander Mormont, and then everyone happily prepares to elect the next one? What about the man whose idea it was to let the savages in? Shouldn't he face punishment for this?"
There was no hiding from it.
Egger frowned, desperately missing the living Old Bear. Mormont had known the history of the Vale nobles coming to the Wall and didn't want the Watch to be consumed by internal infighting. After Egger returned north, Mormont had specifically sent every single member of the "Lords Declarant" to Eastwatch, which was why everything had seemed so smooth.
But now that Mormont was dead, under the guise of participating in the election, the commander of Eastwatch had brought them all back to Castle Black.
They were coming for him; he had been in the spotlight too much lately.
Egger sighed. Fortunately, he was the Lord Logistics Officer—he held a rank no lower than anyone else currently in the Order, and he had his own faction within Castle Black. He was not entirely at their mercy.
"Commander Mormont's ashes are still hot, yet Lord Royce is already in a hurry to settle old scores with internal bickering? The Lord Commander did indeed accept my suggestion to settle the Free Folk in the Gift, but allow me to remind you: anywhere in the world, the one who offers a suggestion is innocent of crime. Even if you want to use that as an excuse to punish me, you'll have to win the Lord Commander's seat first."
Ser Royce snorted, declining to continue a pointless war of words. "I am not running for Lord Commander."
"What a coincidence; neither am I," Egger replied with a smile. "And one more thing... Commander Mormont issued a decree that there is no longer such a thing as a 'Wildling' in the Gift. By using that term publicly in Castle Black, you are in violation of the regulations of the Night's Watch."
"Right, we should say 'new Gift-dwellers,'" Cotter Pyke laughed in a gruff voice. "The 'new Gift-dwellers' who hadn't been inside the Wall for more than a few days before they stoned Commander Mormont to death!"
"Not 'the new Gift-dwellers,' only 'the' killer who threw the stone," Egger pivoted the topic to what he had intended to say. "Where I come from, we say 'every debt has its debtor.' The culprit has already been apprehended by Ser Bukwell. If you lords wish, we can conduct the trial before the election for the next Lord Commander begins."
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