Chapter 302: Change in the Gift (Part 3)
The high command at Castle Black remained adamant about not using force, leaving the twenty to thirty men of the Eastwatch delegation isolated and without support. The conservative officers finally agreed to an alternative: they would send a reliable messenger to deliver an oral report, ensuring that Robb Stark was made aware of exactly what was happening on the Wall. They would rely on external pressure to deal with a certain logistics officer whom the Night's Watch could no longer control.
The plan was clear and simple, but execution proved difficult.
On the ground, the Queenscrown troops tasked with blockading Castle Black refused all negotiations. They maintained an iron-faced stance of executing orders and nothing else: regardless of Night's Watch status, whether they were from Eastwatch, or whom they supported in the Lord Commander election—no one was permitted to leave Castle Black. Those who attempted to depart or send messages from atop the Wall were likewise sternly intercepted by mountain clan warriors at Queensgate and Sable Hall shortly after setting out.
The besieged men experienced once again their opponent's uncanny ability to anticipate every move.
Consequently, they shifted their hopes to the weather, expecting that the increasing snowfall, biting cold, and hunger would eventually force the mountain clansmen to retreat. However, the situation changed again by afternoon: a second and third wave of reinforcements, totaling several hundred people, arrived from the direction of Queenscrown. Men and women arrived driving carts laden with supplies and immediately set to work. After a flurry of activity, they erected tents and fences amidst the ruins of the former Mole's Town, constructing a makeshift military camp. Before dark, wisps of cooking smoke were already drifting from the site.
By this point, the number of Gift troops outside Castle Black exceeded that of the entire Night's Watch. Furthermore, they were fully equipped with combat personnel and logistical support, forming a complete system that appeared capable of operating independently without any external aid. The conservative officers watched this from the battlements; though they said little, their hearts were pounding with apprehension. None felt more regret than the Lord Steward, Bowen Marsh.
He began to realize, albeit dimly, that the current predicament was a direct result of the war of attrition he had instigated after Lord Commander Mormont's accidental death—a strategy intended to collapse the Gift settlement plan.
Under his direction, Castle Black had strictly rationed grain and supplies. Now, they were left guarding warehouses stuffed to the rafters, surrounded and helpless. And Queenscrown? Supported by the Night's Watch Industry, it struggled to feed 80% of the living souls in the Gift, daily frantic over how to fill empty granaries. It had seemed a pathetic struggle, yet inadvertently, they had seized control of the entire Gift and become its de facto masters.
Bowen did not believe he was wrong, but he had to admit that in this war of attrition, he had failed to achieve his strategic objectives.
Worse than the feeling of losing was the realization that the opponent he failed to crush had emerged even stronger.
"When that group appeared outside the walls this morning and hadn't yet secured their footing, we failed to react decisively. We were destined to be at a disadvantage; it's too late for talk now! Next, we either hope Eastwatch or the Shadow Tower can relay the message for us after receiving our ravens, or we simply stay trapped here and wait for a change to occur."
"Not secured their footing? Easy for you to say," someone immediately remarked with sarcasm. "When those people outside were 'unsettled,' we hadn't even put on our clothes. We should be glad they didn't take the opportunity to launch a full assault!"
After various efforts to send out messengers failed, a second meeting was convened in Castle Black. However, aside from some meaningless arguments, no one could offer any constructive suggestions.
It wasn't a lack of ideas, but rather the reality that there was truly nothing left for them to do.
The Watchmen, knowing those outside were not mortal enemies, continued to prepare defenses as ordered, but their morale had largely slackened once they realized this was purely a power struggle among the high command. With Castle Black having only one main gate, and the roadblocks and overlapping patrol lines outside the walls, the chance of sneaking through the blockade was infinitesimally small. As for the snow, which fell harder by the minute and already reached past the calves in the fields, it smothered any theoretical possibility of a raid or a breakout.
"What use is discussing the past? We must find a way now; we cannot allow those mountain clansmen to keep us trapped!" Yohn Royce had once been the Lord of Runestone and the second most powerful figure in the Vale. As an experienced noble, he understood public sentiment better than most present. "Avoiding bloodshed is well and good, but if time passes and we never offer a response or a counter-strike, the men will transition from anger to complacency. Countless eyes across the Gift are watching. Once everyone realizes we are powerless against Egger and subconsciously accepts the concept that 'he is the boss of the Gift,' it will be too late!"
"Are you saying that letting everyone know he's the boss is the reason Egger did this?" Othell Yarwyck glanced suspiciously at Ser Endrew Tarth, the Master-at-Arms, speaking with pointed intent. "But isn't he already on the verge of winning with the recruits' votes? Stirring up trouble at this critical juncture—isn't that counterproductive?"
"His motives don't matter! I only know that with his meticulous nature—leaving no loopholes—he likely has similar operations planned for Eastwatch and the Shadow Tower." Yohn Royce saw that the highest-ranking officers remained silent, so he continued to speak despite his relatively low rank. "We must counter-attack quickly, and if we want speed, we must rely on ourselves! After thinking it over, I've found a blind spot that the boy would never expect—and even if he did, he couldn't prevent it. We can get a message out!"
"Oh?"
"Let's hear it."
Yohn waved his hand and revealed the answer: "Egger has blocked the paths inside the Wall and atop the Wall, but there is a vast world outside the Wall. Why are we ignoring it?"
The vast world beyond the Wall? Sending a message through the north? After a brief silence, several ranger captains began to sneer.
"And here I thought you'd come up with a good idea," a ranger officer from Castle Black grunted disdainfully. "Why do you think we blocked the tunnels? The gods only know how many dead men and Others are in the Haunted Forest right now, just waiting for us to go out and die!"
"The North is dangerous now; I don't doubt that," Yohn Royce insisted. "Stopping patrols and sealing tunnels are measures to minimize losses. But I've read every report of encounters with the Others; they all claim these are intelligent beings with minds no less capable than ours. Would such creatures really wait endlessly at the edge of the Haunted Forest for 'men seeking death' when they know we won't cross the Wall?"
"You're willing to speculate on a monster's thoughts and bet your life on such a deduction? Who knows if they are lying in ambush at the forest's edge? Living men get restless when a target doesn't appear; the dead have nothing but time!"
"Mance Rayder only brought thirty thousand wildlings to surrender; thousands more chose not to believe him. These people are scattered across the North. If I were the Others, I would lead my army of the dead to round up these helpless people first to swell my ranks, and then wait for the right moment! What did the reports say? As winter descends, they are growing stronger, and their range is moving closer to the Wall."
"I don't care what you think," a Castle Black ranger captain said with a shrug. "Just don't expect us to send men out as a suicide squad. I'd rather be hanged by military law than go out to die for nothing, only to return as something else."
Yohn ignored the dissenters and continued looking around at the other officers. "Neither Egger nor the Others would ever expect us to send men beyond the Wall now. Use a winch to lower one or two men down, head west along the base of the Wall, bypass the mountain clansmen at Queensgate, and once past the blockade, have the sentries on top of the Wall pull us back up. If we move fast, we won't even have to spend a night outside. It is dangerous... true, but if I'm right, it might not be the certain death our intuition suggests!"
"And what if every fort along the Wall has orders from Egger to intercept anyone coming from Castle Black?"
"Then they would only choose to detain us, not refuse to haul us up the Wall. If that boy truly considered such an impossible scenario, then I'll accept defeat!"
"I object," Othell Yarwyck stated directly. "I will not sit by and let a plan pass that forces brothers to undergo unnecessary risks. The Wall has seen enough farces over who will be the next Lord Commander and whether the Gift plan continues... but this is merely a difference of ideology—"
"I came up with the idea; I'll lead it," Yohn Royce interrupted the First Builder's rambling. "I will seek volunteers to accompany me. If there are none, I will go alone. Lord Cotter, do you authorize this action?"
Cotter hadn't expected the man to be this desperate. He stared at him for a long time before slowly speaking: "We all know about your grudge with Egger, Yohn, but it's not worth it. Even if you successfully get the message to Robb, he won't kill Egger. But if you're wrong and never come back, Egger will only laugh until his sides ache."
Without saying he wouldn't authorize it, Yohn Royce remained firm. "I understand the risks and I choose to bear them. Egger West has used every trick to push us into a corner step by step. If we don't use a bold move to strike back, he will think we are all fools to be toyed with!"
In Castle Black, a small faction of conservatives was planning an incredible adventure as a counter-strike against Egger's sudden offensive. Meanwhile, at the easternmost port of the Night's Watch, a joyful and peaceful atmosphere prevailed.
Conflicts and competition at the high level were the business of great men; the brothers at the bottom wouldn't view each other as enemies just because they voted for different candidates—especially when one side took the lead in showing goodwill.
The logistics officer from Queenscrown—the first settlement in the Gift that could be called a town and was under the Watch's actual control—led employees of the Night's Watch Industry to visit the troops again after several months. They brought a cart full of various meats and several large barrels of fine wine, claiming it was a reward for the brothers of Eastwatch for standing guard at the Wall.
Life at the Wall was incredibly dull. Coming across such a stroke of luck while the Commander happened to be away turned this meal into a revelry. On top of the ice wall and inside the halls, people were everywhere clinking cups and feasting. Watchmen and Logistics Department employees stood shoulder to shoulder, calling each other brothers and boasting of their experiences. Those who had drunk too much leaned tipsily against corners, humming crude and suggestive tunes. Although there was no instrumental accompaniment, it had a rhythm of its own.
The walls blocked the freezing wind. The warmth from the feasting crowd and the charcoal fires created a tiny heat island within the seaside fortress, as if even the falling snow were being pushed back. The scent of wine mingled with the fat and spices of cooked meat, creating a pleasant atmosphere.
It had been a long time since things were this lively, not since the Lord Commander election began. However, at the moment, it was perhaps a bit too much.
Iron Emmett hadn't drunk much. He was a ranger captain at Eastwatch and Cotter Pyke's top enforcer. With the boss taking Yohn Royce and the others to Castle Black for the election, he had been left in temporary command of Eastwatch.
He didn't have the prestige to command the brothers to stop drinking or boasting, so he simply didn't play the villain. But he knew: the more the men in the fortress were immersed in the feast, the more someone needed to stay sober—to keep an eye on the defenses atop and below the Wall, lest the Others or the un-surrendered wildlings seize the opportunity to strike and breach this key fortress, leading to disaster.
The sentries atop the Wall had also had some wine. Now, red-faced, they were huddled in twos and threes chatting. While their attitude was somewhat lax, they hadn't abandoned their posts. The height of the Wall gave the defenders a very high margin for error: as long as the sentries didn't fall asleep, it was impossible for the "enemy has climbed up unnoticed" scenario to occur.
After a round of inspections and instructions, and peering out over the Haunted Forest from the top of the Wall, Emmett descended the steps. He entered the guard tower adjacent to the perimeter wall to remind the brothers guarding the ground level. Only after ensuring there were no major lapses in security did he leave with peace of mind.
Passing the Great Hall, he ran into Maester Harmune of Eastwatch.
The tongue of the fortress didn't look like a Maester at all. A chronic alcoholic, he was plump and tipsy, currently holding a cup with a flushed face, staggering as he walked.
"Harmune." Emmett was long used to this sight; he suppressed his disgust and sighed. "Did any ravens arrive today?"
"Mmm..." Harmune blinked blearily, shaking his head as if trying to shake the alcohol from his brain. "I think a letter from Castle Black arrived."
"Then why wasn't the content reported?"
"Well... I was just taking the letter off the bird's leg and putting it back in the cage when the brothers from Queenscrown arrived. I put things down and went to help... move the supplies—hic—"
"Move the wine, you mean!" Emmett frowned with distaste. "Everyone knows you're an addict; they just can't be bothered to say it. But you're the Maester of Eastwatch. Can't you do your job before you drink? A raven from Castle Black—if it was an urgent order and something went wrong, could you bear the responsibility? Where is the letter?"
"Hic—I know, I'll be careful next time." If the critic were Cotter Pyke, Harmune might have taken it seriously, but a temporary commander... also telling a Maester what to do? He shrugged indifferently and continued toward the hall with his cup. "The letter... it's either under the cage or on my table. Go... find it yourself."
Shaking his head in irritation, Emmett suppressed the urge to punch the man and hurried to the Maester's turret. After some searching, he found the scroll sent from Castle Black today, still rolled tight. He spread it flat and began to read it word by word under the dim light of an oil lamp.
Emmett's reading ability was mediocre, and it took him some time to finish the contents. Once he understood what had happened, he swallowed hard, knowing disaster was imminent.
Castle Black was besieged; Cotter Pyke was trapped and unable to escape. He used this letter to warn Eastwatch: be on guard against any outsiders—especially movements from the Night's Watch Logistics Department.
No one was to be allowed into the fortress without orders!
The Maester, who should have informed everyone of this news immediately, had instead rushed off to move meat and wine and participate in the feast the moment the Queenscrown "reward" party arrived. He had drunk himself into a stupor without ever relaying the message to the brothers!
While Emmett had been performing his duties as if walking on thin ice, wary of Others and wildlings, he never expected the threat would ultimately come from "their own" dressed in black. Eastwatch, which should have increased its guard and closed its gates immediately upon receiving the news, had allowed dozens of logistics soldiers and mountain clansmen inside without hesitation, all due to one drunkard's negligence. If they had ill intentions, this fortress was already as good as fallen.
He slammed the letter onto the table, grabbed his sword, and charged out of the Maester's quarters. Only a few dozen people had infiltrated, and Eastwatch had over a hundred soldiers. As long as he could gather enough reliable brothers before the opponent struck, they still had a chance to regain control of the fortress!
But the scene before him made his hand drop. Against the background noise of the feast, the gates of Eastwatch were wide open. The guards stood by the door laughing with the Queenscrown logistics officer, watching as several carts drawn by oxen or horses—and dozens, perhaps a hundred mountain clansmen—filed through the gate and squeezed into the defenseless port fortress.
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