Chapter 252: Pick the Softest Persimmon
While a mess of chaotic nonsense was unfolding at the Wall, the rest of the world of Ice and Fire had not stopped turning.
In Westeros south of the Neck, winter had yet to arrive. The war between Stannis, who sat upon the Iron Throne, and the various pretenders showed no sign of ceasing.
On the rebel side: despite the Reach's deep coffers, the lords and counts who controlled the bulk of its resources were finding their resolve to follow their liege in rebellion nearly ground down by consecutive defeats. Meanwhile, the Golden Company—marching under the banner of the True Dragon—held Storm's End, one of the most famous strongholds in Westeros. However, Storm's End was not King's Landing, and the Stormland lords were not the Crownland nobility who had historically been loyal to House Targaryen. "Young Griff" and the forces behind him occupied his opponent's ancestral seat, yet they remained utterly unable to control a land that had been loyal to House Baratheon for generations. As for the last potential ally, Dorne, they had appeared to send troops to help, but in truth, they had not struck a single blow against Stannis. Diplomatically, they had yet to openly raise the banner of rebellion; once the objective of breaking the siege of Storm's End was met, they immediately withdrew into the Boneway like slippery loaches, doing the bare minimum while watching the two tigers fight.
The situation seemed excellent for the master of the Iron Throne, yet Stannis lacked the manpower to seize the opportunity to unify the Seven Kingdoms. After the mutiny of the Alliance of the Just, the clash with the West following Jaime's kingslaying, and the struggle for the throne with his brother Renly, the Crownlands, the Vale, and the Riverlands had all suffered immense losses. The only force that had preserved its strength, the North, had turned tail and headed back up the Kingsroad after withdrawing from the Storm's End battlefield, preparing to save their home... More critically, the Iron Bank had refused to wholesale any new loans to the Iron Throne. The King of Westeros was currently facing an unprecedented liquidity crisis.
Egger had already learned of the above situation while at Castle Black, but the Night's Watch could not, and had no way to, intervene. After organizing two thousand Gift-dwellers at Queenscrown, he led them in a grand procession south along the Kingsroad.
Not long ago, he had naively envisioned training a new army based on modern models, pursuing a path of elite troops to sweep across the world with an invincible iron force... Unfortunately, plans rarely keep pace with changes. For the first time in his life truly leading an army, he was commanding a group of thugs only slightly better than peasants. The only saving grace was that the elite soldiers he had trained at the industrial park outside King's Landing could now serve as junior officers—his original plotting hadn't gone to waste.
Combat effectiveness aside, the Gift Army, with a skeleton of professional soldiers, was at least no inferior to the armies of any kingdom in Westeros in terms of formation and discipline... though "small scale" deserved most of the credit for that.
Since the official reason for the deployment was "traveling to the North for grain," Egger only issued weapons to the mountain clansmen. As for the new Gift-dwellers... he not only completely reorganized them by breaking up their tribal affiliations but also stowed the simple weapons prepared for them inside wagons. He had them follow the column empty-handed, disguised as camp followers and laborers.
The Northern lords held a very negative attitude toward the Night's Watch letting Wildlings through the Wall. Consequently, when this Gift Army arrived outside Last Hearth, they were predictably barred from entry by House Umber.
Egger was mentally prepared for this. In reality, even if the Umbers were willing to host Wildlings, a single castle couldn't hold thousands of people. Furthermore, after the attack on Commander Mormont... to be honest, he didn't dare stake everything on the Wildlings behaving themselves, nor did he feel comfortable letting them into any Northern castle.
Fortunately... regardless, at least the Umbers didn't shut the Night's Watchman himself out.
Inside the hall of Last Hearth, Egger met Hother Umber, who was currently the acting head of the household—a typical tall, burly Northern man. From him, Egger learned that no recent news had arrived from the Wall yet.
Due to the limitations of the era and the backward methods of communication, the spread of many messages suffered from significant lag. Furthermore, some lords or maesters were not in the habit of dealing with the Night's Watch... Thus, stationed at the Wall and relying on the occasional update sent by subordinates in King's Landing, Egger was actually quite isolated from information.
"Balon Greyjoy is dead?" Not exactly surprising news. "When did this happen?"
"Whoresbane" Hother Umber replied, "Weeks ago. Word is the Old Kraken's long-lost brother, Euron Greyjoy, returned to the Iron Islands and was chosen as the new King of the Isles... The first thing he did upon taking the throne was contact King's Landing, expressing an interest in peace talks and even offering to swear fealty."
"Fealty to King Stannis? A madman like Euron?" This was truly unexpected. Egger pressed further, "Then why haven't the Ironborn withdrawn from the North?"
"Ha! A Kraken who's been missing for so many years suddenly pops back up, takes his brother's place, and starts making nice with a King who can barely keep his seat on the throne? Only a fool would believe it! He's just looking for a pretext to legally sack the coasts of the Westerlands and the Reach... His niece, Asha Greyjoy, is currently holding Deepwood Motte and Sea Dragon Point, planning to set up another Ironborn kingdom to rival her uncle. If Crow's Eye truly cared about the Iron Throne, he'd first beat that bratty girl of his and drag her home so the Northern army could march south with Stannis without worrying about their backs... instead of turning his back and building ships to go south to burn, kill, and loot."
So that was it. Euron was feigning a desire for peace with Stannis to leave himself a retreat, while also using the guise of royalist and suppressing rebels to legally restore the Old Way of Ironborn reaving against enemies who hadn't declared for the Iron Throne. It was truly killing two birds with one stone. This move was actually quite similar to Egger's instruction to Jaime and his men to vote for Cotter Pyke—supporting the weaker of two rival factions to keep them fighting and stalemated longer, ensuring he, as the third party, could more easily reap the benefits.
A man like Stannis couldn't fail to see through Euron's game. He was likely just stuck between a rock and a hard place; at this juncture, he desperately needed an outside force to pin down the Reach. Even if he knew the truth, he could only pretend not to see it.
Speaking of which, Egger felt a twinge of regret for hanging Ramsay Snow outside Queenscrown so early—he couldn't help but wonder what kind of sparks would fly if "the Bastard of Bolton" and "Crow's Eye" Euron, two equally cruel and mad villains, ever crossed paths.
Of course, since one of them had already been burned to ash and buried in the wilderness outside Queenscrown, Egger's mental exercise could only ever remain in the stage of imagination.
If only dealing with Euron were as easy as dealing with Ramsay.
Egger quickly processed the newly acquired information in his head, realizing that the shift in the situation was fairly beneficial to his plans. "In other words, the Ironborn currently invading the North have been cut off from the Iron Islands? They can no longer get support from their home base?"
"That's right. They're huddled in the areas of the Wolfswood near the west coast, not daring to stray east of the Kingsroad anymore. You're a bit late bringing men to deal with them."
"Is that so? My apologies." On the contrary, Egger felt he had arrived at exactly the right time. He had zero experience or talent for leading troops; now that there was a soft persimmon to squeeze, wasn't it perfect? "No matter. Isn't Deepwood Motte still in their hands? Let's start by taking a knife to that place."
"Hmph... You'd be better off heading straight south to Moat Cailin. Our new Lord Stark is leading his army back to save us, only to be blocked by the Ironborn at that gateway to the Neck. We only need to send a few men to strike from the north while he strikes from the south. Break that door down, let our twenty thousand Northern men come home, and we'll sweep away the rabble led by the Kraken's daughter in the blink of an eye. We could even sail to the Iron Islands and bring the Greyjoys to heel again."
Moat Cailin was originally the Bloody Gate of the North, situated on the only causeway through the Neck. For thousands of years, it had been the most effective defensive barrier against southern invasion. Now, having been occupied by a sneak attack from behind, it was blocking the North's own people out—a truly bitter irony.
Hother Umber's suggestion was sound, but Egger had other plans. "Hmm... well said, but Deepwood Motte is closer. Besides, if we don't deal with the enemies in the north before heading south to the Neck, we might get flanked from behind. With the training level of the mountain clansmen, they might not be able to hold their ground."
"Suit yourself. They're your men; how you use them is none of my business." Hother Umber snorted, staring at Egger for a moment before suddenly slamming the table. "Damn it, I see what you're thinking, boy! You're afraid Robb Stark will come back and hold the Night's Watch accountable for letting Wildlings through the gates without permission, so you want to lead them to do some service for the North first. That way, the Young Wolf will owe you a favor and have nothing to say, right!"
Hah. This Whoresbane looked like a crude brute, yet he could see through one of Egger's intentions so quickly. Truly, one should never judge a book by its cover. However, Egger had no intention of denying it... there was nothing shameful about it. "That is part of the reason, but primarily, I want to return peace to the North so we can safely purchase your grain to help the Wall survive this winter. My lord, the clansmen and new Gift-dwellers aren't familiar with the terrain of the Wolfswood. Would you be willing to provide us with guides... to lead us in reclaiming the keep?"
"Which little brat led a nest of Wildlings to my doorstep!" Before Hother could answer, an even coarser voice boomed from outside the door.
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