Chapter 315: The Red Woman
Cotter Pyke and Yohn Royce were certainly difficult to deal with, but given that the tunnel from Eastwatch to the lands beyond the Wall had long been sealed, and considering Egger's extreme caution—or rather, his mastery of the coward's way—it would be hard for them to cause much trouble even if they wanted to. Dealing with them, while holding every advantage in status and strength, would at most result in dropping the facade and putting them to the sword.
To put it bluntly, over the past two years in Westeros, people with higher titles and nobler births than those two had been dying like flies, batch after batch; it wasn't even news anymore. The only difference was that this time, the executioner would be him instead of someone else.
The next trouble to handle, however, was the one that truly gave Egger a headache.
Melisandre, the Red Woman. In terms of status, she was a priestess of the Red God and a royal advisor sent by King Stannis to the Wall to assist in its defense. In terms of strength, she had dozens of Queen's Men as followers—each trained in arms since childhood, veterans of Stannis's campaigns across the south. Not to mention, she herself was a sorceress wielding extraordinary power.
She could not be threatened, nor easily dealt with. If this woman stubbornly insisted on placing the expansion of the Red God's influence above his efforts to establish authority as the new Lord Commander and develop the Gift, Egger truly didn't know what to do with her.
After dinner, Egger paced irritably in his room for a long while. He thought it over from every angle but failed to come up with a perfect solution.
Fine, he would simply summon her and see if he could appeal to her reason or emotion. Perhaps he could convince her to stop being so willful and disruptive for the sake of the big picture.
Given that she believed him to be the Prince That Was Promised and that he had once saved her life, it wasn't entirely hopeless.
If we really can't reach an agreement, I'll think of "other ways"! he thought grimly.
After some hesitation, Egger decided to send someone to summon her rather than going to her himself.
The Lord Commander of the Night's Watch was, in theory, of no lower status than a royal envoy. Being cautious and wary was one thing, but he had to maintain appearances. He was now the supreme leader of the Gift; if he acted submissively just because the woman opposite him held a bit of supernatural power, he would be putting himself at a disadvantage from the start.
...
It seemed she had been waiting for his word. Within minutes, Melisandre arrived at Egger's room.
When she pushed the door open, Egger had already unsheathed the steel sword—which was still emitting an intense light—and placed it on the table. His intent to demand an explanation was unmistakable.
The brightness, rivaling a high-powered LED, made the room brighter than a day under a clear sky. It made it impossible for Egger to even sit at the table; he stood by the wall, back to the light source, in a pose of deep contemplation.
"Lord Commander," Melisandre greeted him casually as she entered, her voice ethereal and soft. Then, likely finding the brightness a bit much herself, she raised a hand to shield her eyes.
"Lady Melisandre," Egger replied with a flat nod. He picked up a blanket and tossed it over the sword, masking most of the glare. Then, after staring at the Red Woman for several seconds, he spoke with clear displeasure: "Since you are so knowledgeable about Lightbringer, I have a question for you—if I simply hang this in the room as a lamp, will it stay lit forever and save the Night's Watch a fortune in candles?"
"No. Even with the true Lightbringer of legend, it only glows when the wielder infuses it with mana to exert its power. Your sword shines now because I layered over twenty Greater Light spells upon it at once. The spell effects themselves are not permanent, and steel is a poor conductor of magic. It should return to normal by morning."
The witch's frank admission that she was behind the stunt saved Egger some breath. A look of displeasure slowly clouded his face as he asked coldly: "If I recall correctly, in this very room, the two of us reached an agreement—mutual cooperation against the enemy, but I would not publicly acknowledge any titles or convert to your god. Last time your people at Eastwatch publicly claimed I was the Prince That Was Promised, I let the debt slide. Now you do it again at Castle Black? May I ask, by pulling this stunt before hundreds of brothers without so much as a word to me beforehand, are you intending to break our pact?"
"Calm your anger, Lord Commander." Melisandre shook her head slowly, taking two steps into the room and bringing a wave of heat as she drew closer to him. "Allow me first to explain today's events. It concerns a theory you once shared."
Under Egger's full attention, the Red Woman recounted the sequence of events, filtering out her old injuries and certain details requiring secrecy, sharing only what was necessary.
As Melisandre spoke, Egger gradually relaxed. By the time she finished, he was caught between laughter and tears.
Since the day he met her, the Red Woman had always maintained that enigmatic, calm priestess expression, as if everything was within her grasp. This had naturally given Egger the impression that she was a deep-scheming player like himself or Roose Bolton, moving only after everything was planned.
So, when this afternoon's incident occurred, Egger instinctively assumed it was a calculated disruption. He thought she was trying to force him to accept the identity of the Chosen One, thereby creating a divine right scenario—much like a Pope crowning a King—where religious power stood above the authority of the Lord Commander.
Who would have thought the truth wasn't nearly so complex? It was simply a case of a witch, who wasn't as shrewd as imagined, having a momentary lapse in judgment and doing something foolish.
Of course, Egger didn't fully believe her so easily. Much like his own tactics when Robb questioned him about the blockade of Castle Black, Melisandre was likely shifting the focus and downplaying the issue to make him think it was just a mistake rather than a deliberate move.
But even if that were the case, what did it matter? Egger wasn't Melisandre's liege lord; he couldn't decide her fate. What he wanted wasn't to punish the witch, but to find a way to ensure she wouldn't prioritize the expansion of R'hllor's influence over his grand strategy... or continue to act recklessly and undermine his authority.
...
The new Lord Commander thought of many things in an instant. What he didn't know was that Melisandre was just as uneasy beneath her calm exterior. She believed the prophecy, and the Lord of Light had shown clearly in the flames: only by fighting alongside the Prince can the coming Great War be won.
She was currently the only Red Priest at the Wall, representing R'hllor in the mortal camp for this war. If she ruined her relationship with Egger—the man currently commanding the entire Gift and the Wall's defense—over a moment of impulsiveness, and humanity lost because of internal disunity, allowing the Great Other to triumph over R'hllor, her sin would be unforgivable.
At any cost, she had to maintain a solid, mutual bond of trust and cooperation with Egger!
...
Egger wasn't sure exactly what Melisandre was thinking, but it didn't matter. He keenly perceived that the witch did not want to be at odds with him. This priestess, who usually held herself above others and acted with cold indifference, had not only arrived immediately upon his invitation but was also explaining herself with such patience and calm. The truth of the explanation was secondary; the act of explaining itself was a sign of weakness!
His status as the Prince That Was Promised seemed to hold even more weight in the witch's heart than he had previously estimated. When both sides prioritize the big picture and are eager to mend relations, the party that discovers this first and remains firm will hold absolute dominance!
Egger quickly seized this subtle psychological advantage.
He summarized her explanation with feigned irritation: "So, simply to avoid wasting the magic that was about to dissipate, you decided on the spot to secretly cast dozens of... Greater what spells on my sword? Do you realize that because of your 'hot head,' I nearly blinded myself with my own blade?"
The irritation was fake, but there was a genuine touch of regret: Melisandre said the magic released during Maester Aemon's cremation was powerful enough to practically bring someone back from the dead, yet he, like every other Watchman, hadn't felt a single thing. It seemed he truly was a complete commoner, devoid of any connection to supernatural forces.
"I considered that possibility halfway through, which is why I stopped strengthening the spell. Unfortunately, I didn't expect that just twenty layered Greater Light spells would be so potent." Melisandre gave a light, apologetic laugh and shrugged. On this point, she wasn't lying. Casting spells in a world drained of magic was a luxury. An operation like repeating a spell dozens of times was something she wouldn't even dream of, were it not for the cremation of a Targaryen. Having a rare chance to squander mana without calculation, she got excited and lost control of the intensity. "I wonder if the Lord Commander's vision has returned to normal? If not, perhaps I could try to heal you. R'hllor is the source of all goodness. Though we are called fire priests, our skills extend beyond burning people."
The witch took a couple of steps closer, seemingly intending to cast a healing spell on him. Egger quickly raised a hand to decline. After an afternoon of recovery, the black spots in his vision had mostly faded—and even if they hadn't, he wouldn't let a mysterious witch treat him on a whim.
The familiar heat from the Red Woman wafted toward him. Egger suddenly noticed Melisandre looked slightly different today. Though she was still the same stunning beauty everyone was accustomed to, she seemed to have suddenly grown ten years younger. The subtle traces of time that were usually hard to detect had vanished; her skin even gave off a faint youthful glow and a strange radiance. For a moment, a word came to his mind—ethereal.
Could this be some sort of charm spell?
He suppressed his wandering thoughts and kept a stern face: "Lady Melisandre, I never doubt your willingness to help defend the Wall. What happened today, and that incident at Eastwatch before, I'll count as good intentions gone wrong and speak of them no more. But I am reiterating certain requirements. If you feel I have no right to command you, or if you truly cannot comply, then I'm sorry—I will have to harden my heart and play the villain, asking you to leave my territory."
"Lord Commander, you are the host and I am the guest. I shall take your requirements to heart. Please, speak."
"Only two points," Egger said seriously. "One: do not allow anyone, in any way, to publicly declare me as the Prince That Was Promised. Whether I am or not isn't the point. Don't forget, my 'predecessor' is King Stannis, who currently sits on the Iron Throne. He is a decent man, but no one is happy to hear that someone has snatched away their positive title. I hope to win support from all over the Seven Kingdoms for this war; that isn't too much to ask, is it?"
The faint smile on Melisandre's face didn't move as she nodded.
"Second: in the future, any public actions you take in the Gift under the name of the Lord of Light must be reported to me in advance. You don't need to come in person; just send someone to notify me. If I don't reply with an objection, it is permitted. Agreed?"
"Very well, two points. Then, are we to consider the misunderstanding resolved and return to being trusted, close friends?"
"Hmph. If you must use such terms, then yes."
Communication was indeed vital. This afternoon, Egger had even considered how to eliminate Melisandre if she refused to cooperate. But once they spoke face-to-face, he often found he had simply overthought things.
Egger breathed a sigh of relief. Dropping the villain act, he gathered his thoughts to politely end the meeting.
But at that moment, the Red Priestess—who had been humble and reasonable to the point of making one doubt if it was really her—slid closer to his side and took hold of his right arm.
"What is this?" Egger frowned in confusion, though he didn't jump to a negative conclusion. Given her skills, she wouldn't need physical contact if she wanted to move against him.
"You are anxious, Lord Commander. Is it the unease of never having held such high office, or the trepidation regarding the Great War to come?"
Egger was taken aback. Thinking about it, since learning of his election, his emotions had indeed been turbulent...
As if. Much like the famous psychological experiment 'Don't think of an elephant', when a priest tells you in a mystical tone that you have a problem, looking back at yourself under that suggestion naturally makes you find a hundred problems even if you're perfectly healthy.
Trying to play tricks on me? A move of this level isn't enough!
Egger narrowed his eyes, about to respond, but the witch didn't give him the chance.
"Fulfilling your duty and guarding the realms of men is important, but one must balance work with rest. Do not let yourself break before the war even begins. Remember: a relaxed body and a smooth heart are the keys to success." She lifted his right arm and guided it, slowly but firmly, to rest upon her waist. "Men and women are born different in essence. The supreme wisdom of the Lord of Light tells us clearly: union produces power... Of course, the Lord Commander would surely scoff at such things. So let us be blunt: even if the joys of the flesh produce no power, can they not serve as a way to relax the mind, help us understand each other more deeply, and build a closer, firmer alliance?"
Through his hand, an unbelievable heat and softness radiated from the witch's waist. Egger realized he had guessed wrong again. Melisandre wasn't trying to pull a trick—she was seducing him!
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