Chapter 297: Anxious Search for a Brother
Egger approached the giant weirwood and cautiously reached out to touch it.
Looking only from within the tunnel, one couldn't actually tell it was a weirwood... Torghen Flint's absolute certainty that this was the largest heart tree in the Seven Kingdoms was based purely on the massive human face carved into the wood—and in Westeros, only followers of the Old Gods would do such a thing to a weirwood.
Add to that the fortuitous presence of a weirwood sapling on the kitchen floor above to support the theory, and no one doubted his claim.
As for the massive crown and root system growing within the ice wall, or the idea that the weirwood provided the Wall with the power to resist the Others, those were entirely matters of association and deduction.
But it was much like Melisandre believing Egger was the Prince That Was Promised: once a subconscious assumption is made about a theory lacking solid evidence, every detail begins to look like proof.
Setting aside those factors and looking only at the scene before them, another possibility existed: they were simply standing before a magical door carved with a face, which happened to be made of weirwood, and a deformed weirwood sapling just happened to grow on the ground above it.
It wasn't impossible.
To see the whole from a part, to know the ocean from a drop of water—Egger tried to find more clues on the wooden door to prove... or disprove that this was part of a tree. If all went well, he would soon become the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, leading the Wall's garrison and the Gift's residents against the enemies of humanity. Gaining a deeper understanding of the nature of the magic woven into the Wall would be undoubtedly beneficial.
(I wonder if this glowing wood is radioactive?)
Egger muttered to himself, feeling it through his gloves for a moment without noticing anything unusual. Realizing a layer of fur and leather wouldn't stop radiation anyway, he simply pulled off his gloves and touched it with his bare hand.
The wood was cool to the touch, yet not icy at all, possessing a peculiar warmth. If he had to give it a specific number, it was likely around 10°C—hardly "warm" in the literal sense, but at the chilling foot of the Wall, it was significantly warmer than the ambient environment.
(Is this caused by the dissipation of energy from magic at work, or is it a side effect of the glow?)
Question after question rose in Egger's mind, but the answers were difficult to guess. After groping around to the left and right, he discovered a new detail: the door was not a flat slab; it had a curvature.
The central axis of the giant face was the most prominent, while the cheeks gradually receded toward the edges where they met the surrounding permafrost. Overall... it curved into a subtle, non-spherical surface.
While not decisive evidence, it fit the characteristics of a section of a "massive cylinder."
Humans live on a planet yet don't feel the curvature of the world beneath their feet; this is determined by a physical concept—the larger the curved surface of the same shape, the smaller the curvature, and the flatter it feels. This door was roughly three meters wide where it was exposed from the frozen earth, and the curve formed by its cross-section from left to right... by visual estimation, was very close to 1/25 to 1/30 of a circle—a sector with a central angle of about 13° to 14°.
If this face was indeed carved into a weirwood, and assuming the trunk was a standard cylinder, the circumference of its cross-section would reach a staggering 75 to 90 meters... Divided by pi... After a quick mental calculation, Egger concluded that if this tree truly existed, its diameter would be between 23 and 28 meters.
And this, in turn, coincided perfectly with the thickness of the Wall at its base!
Indeed, this might still just be a coincidence. But one must remember that everything in the universe is interconnected; in a sense, all coincidences are inevitable! If the deduction that a giant weirwood supports the Wall was true, then the Greenseer... or rather, the Old Gods, were by no means what Egger had previously thought: just a reclusive, indifferent wizard or an insignificant minor god. He likely fought alongside Azor Ahai during the legendary Battle for the Dawn to defend all of humanity—perhaps even guiding him—and facilitated the subsequent construction of the Wall and the formation of the Night's Watch. In the A Song of Ice and Fire, he... at least once, held a position of pivotal importance!
(I wonder just how many weirwoods like this are buried along the length of the Wall?)
Egger shook his head, even beginning to suspect if someone was influencing his thoughts again. He admitted with regret that despite his efforts to be objective and rational, Chief Flint's preconceived introduction had ultimately influenced his judgment.
There was no use thinking further. Whether it was a massive subterranean weirwood or not, once manpower was abundant, wouldn't it be clear enough to just dig up the frozen soil and see?
Egger set aside his thoughts and put his gloves back on. On the other side, most of the Northern lords had recovered from their shock, their expressions now tinged with a thread of piety and awe.
If carving a face on an ordinary weirwood and calling it a heart tree was using it to symbolize the Old Gods, then with this glowing wooden face that could open its eyes and speak, many would probably accept it as the true physical manifestation of the Old Gods themselves.
But after a few minutes of quiet discussion and silent prayer, someone among the Northern lords finally remembered the true purpose of their visit.
Robb Stark broke the solemn atmosphere. "Such a heart tree is indeed breathtaking, but—what exactly does it have to do with my brother's disappearance?"
"Mmm." Chief Flint nodded and took up the thread. "Our men who went down the well to find Master Bran found traces of their passage on the ground. But the strange thing is—the trail vanishes right before this face, and there's no sign of them returning. It's as if... they passed right through this face."
Someone immediately voiced a doubt: "Traces? The ground down here is frozen so hard, could they really have left footprints?"
"Actual footprints can only be faintly seen from that giant stableboy, and even those were covered by those who came later... but Master Bran cannot walk. He was being dragged on a simple litter. The scratches from the wooden poles on the ground are quite clear."
Left with no choice and at Robb's request, the attendants who had followed them down went through the trouble of relighting the torches, holding them low to the ground. A faint draft of unknown origin blew through the tunnel. Under the flickering light, amidst a jumble of footprints of uncertain origin, there were indeed two prominent scratches leading straight to the wooden face, vanishing eerily beneath it with no sign of turning back.
"I can't see much." After staring for a few seconds, Roose Bolton asked in a flat tone, "Furthermore, how do we prove this isn't just something you scratched on the ground to fulfill your duty?"
A look of displeasure finally appeared on Chief Flint's face. "Lord Bolton's words are rather hurtful. The Flint clan are devout followers of the Old Gods. Before this sacred heart tree, under the very eyelids of the Old Gods, how would we dare to deceive our liege lord? Lord Stark, if there is a single word of falsehood in what I have told you today, may my clan suffer hunger and cold in this winter, may we fall to the swords of the Others, and never see the next dawn of spring!"
Such an oath, if made elsewhere, would have its credibility depend entirely on the speaker's reputation and the listener's relationship with them. But here in the North-of-the-North, where everyone was sensitive to the seasons and standing beneath a heart tree, it was another matter entirely.
The descendants of the First Men followed the Old Gods. Northerners would walk, read, or rest in godswoods, praying and worshipping the spirits to find peace of mind. They would hold naming ceremonies, weddings, and funerals under the gaze of the faces on the weirwood trunks, letting the heart tree witness the birth of new life, the union of lovers, or the passing of elders. In even older history and legend, petty kings would choose the densest weirwood groves to form alliances, make peace, or discuss great affairs, letting the Old Gods notarize the oaths or promises of all parties...
Swearing before a heart tree was a very solemn and serious matter for a follower of the Old Gods, let alone such a dire oath. To question him publicly after that would be no different from an open break. The Flint clan assisted in guarding the Wall and defending the North; they bore no major fault or responsibility in Bran's disappearance. Moreover, they were currently hosting the Northern lords with warmth and courtesy. As guests, what reason was there to turn hostile and humiliate them?
Not to mention—before this massive, glowing, speaking wooden face, nearly everyone in the tunnel was shrouded in a powerful feeling of being watched by some unseen presence. Without needing many reasons, everyone subconsciously chose to believe their fellow Old Gods follower, Torghen Flint.
"Enough, Lord Flint. Take back that oath; we all trust your character." Robb Stark hadn't been the Lord of the North for long, but he understood the basic diplomatic stakes and spoke up in time to smooth things over. "But my brother is still missing, his fate unknown, and the trail ends here. So where did Bran go? Could he have been eaten by this weirwood? I must have some explanation to give my family and my people!"
Robb Stark's request was not unreasonable, but the trail truly did end here. What could Torghen Flint do? If anyone was to blame, it was that he hadn't stationed guards at this well in the first place!
"The trail vanishes here; I don't understand it either... if the Lord truly insists on pursuing this..." Torghen Flint gritted his teeth. "You only need to give the order, and we'll simply hack this face open to see what lies behind it that caused Bran Stark to vanish!"
This was clearly spoken in frustration. If, while on the surface, Robb had found the Flints' rigidness in refusing to move even a tiny weirwood sapling amusing, now... even with ten times the courage, he wouldn't dare order the hacking of this massive heart tree that practically had the word sacred written all over it, openly desecrating a miracle.
Silence returned to the tunnel as everyone pondered how to solve the problem. Finally, Hother Umber, who had met Egger once before and had come with his nephew, broke the silence. "Lord Stark, back at Last Hearth, I heard that when Master Bran was at Winterfell, he had expressed a desire to go beyond the Wall?"
"There is that... as far as I know, it was because of those two Reed children. They came north from the Neck to join the harvest feast and stayed in Winterfell to keep my brother company. It was likely from that point that Bran began asking questions about the lands beyond the Wall and repeatedly requested to visit the Wall..." Robb Stark said with a furrowed brow. "At the time, my mother realized that Jojen and Meera might be filling Bran's head with strange ideas, but the Reeds have always been loyal Stark bannermen, so it was difficult to turn them away... I never expected he would actually run away from home!"
"The two Reed children... I haven't heard much of the daughter, but that boy Jojen, I've heard of him for some time," Galbart Glover interjected. "People say the boy nearly died of greywater fever as a child. After miraculously pulling through, he claimed to possess the greensight and could see many things in his dreams. I always thought it was just a nice way of saying the boy's mind had gone soft after his illness... but... if a glowing, speaking heart tree can exist, how far-fetched is a boy with greensight who sees divine omens in his dreams?"
"What do you mean?" Robb looked at Lord Glover with confusion. "Are you saying my brother's flight and disappearance at Nightfort... was the will of the Old Gods? That the trail vanishes here because he was taken by Them? But what use would the Old Gods have for my brother—a young boy who cannot even walk?"
"That is not for us mortals to speculate on. But at least it offers a possible perspective: your brother, the first in line to the North's succession, hasn't met with disaster. He came before this tree, gave his name when asked 'Who are you,' and was taken by some god. He is safe and sound under their care, perhaps even contributing his strength to everyone. Doesn't that make one feel a bit better?"
"Hah—" Robb's face twitched; his instinct was to say this was nonsense. But after hesitating for a long while, he let out a long sigh—thinking according to Galbart Glover's words, he did indeed feel a bit better. Hope is a powerful thing.
However, he was here, witnessing the miracle, which allowed him to hold some expectation of Bran's potentially fortunate fate. But back at Winterfell, how was he supposed to convince his mother and young Rickon?
Was he supposed to bring them all this way just to see this giant heart tree?
Robb contemplated for a while but ultimately couldn't find any more clarity. He looked up again at the wondrous heart tree shining in the darkness, realizing that this search for his brother would likely have to end here on an unsatisfactory note. To press further would mean either making things difficult for the Flint clan or hounding Egger; both were reliable friends... in these troubled times—no, this troubled winter—why torment himself and those around him?
"Fine." Finally, the young Lord of the North shook his head helplessly and turned to face Egger and Torghen. "I will accept this explanation for now. But regardless, I ask the Night's Watch and the clans along the Wall, including the Flints, to remain vigilant. Should my brother appear again, whether inside or outside the Wall, return him safely to Winterfell immediately, at any cost."
The two men addressed naturally promised repeatedly, both breathing a great sigh of relief deep inside. With Robb's words, the matter of Bran running away to the Wall and vanishing was more or less concluded... The Flint clan could continue their life at Nightfort, and Egger could focus on coordinating the new and old residents of the Gift to handle the real upcoming inspection of the Gift Settlement Plan.
After standing before the heart tree for a while longer, the group gradually became accustomed to the presence of the miracle. Finally, after a few more words, they unanimously agreed to return to the surface to tour Nightfort and the section of the Wall guarded by the Flint clan. Robb truly loved his brother and had demonstrated that concern, but the fact remained: the disappearance of one Stark family member was, after all, not as important as the safety of the entire North and the Seven Kingdoms.
They composed themselves and lined up to return the way they came. Each was lost in their own thoughts, and for a time no one spoke...
In the silence, Egger felt he had found a good moment to speak: "Lord Stark, there was a small incident at Castle Black today that I believe you ought to know about."
Support me on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/MistaQuartz
On Patreon, you can explore Extra Chapters in advance!