Chapter 328: Easy to Help, Hard to Borrow
In Westeros, there were no construction conglomerates or engineering firms—no organizations or classes of people who made a living purely off infrastructure.
The Northern lords each lived in ancestral castles, essentially super-frugal types who stayed put for decades or centuries, content with patching it up for another year. Naturally, no one was eager to volunteer for a task like building a new outpost—something they had never touched, which would likely be a massive headache and a guaranteed money-sink.
The Night's Watch Logistics Department was different. Under Egger's leadership, they had the pedigree of establishing the King's Landing Industrial Park, building Queenscrown from scratch, and large-scale renovations of numerous ancient forts along the Wall. While not exactly battle-hardened in engineering, they had already experienced most of the mistakes and detours one could make. In the lands north of the Neck, they stood head and shoulders above the rest.
This was the fundamental reason why, when Egger volunteered, he encountered zero resistance and secured the project with ease.
Everyone was happy to accept help, but getting them to pull coins out of their own pockets was another matter entirely. The moment the words requesting financial aid left Egger's mouth, the hall—which had been buzzing with heated discussion just moments before—went cold. The lords traded looks, but no one stepped forward to speak.
Robb frowned, sinking into thought for a moment before shaking his head. "Egger, we feel the goodwill of the Night's Watch. However, building a navy is a Northern military action against the Iron Islands; by all rights and logic, it shouldn't add to the pressure on the Wall's defenders. Tell you what: for the construction costs of the port and the outpost, draw up a list. I will see it fully reimbursed and fairly apportioned among the Northern lords. As for labor, garrisoning, and even the rent for using the Gift's coastline, we will consider appropriate compensation and payment. I won't let the brothers of the Watch lose a single copper."
"As for the rest—you see the situation. Though we won plenty of spoils in the Westerlands, we are still at war, and expenses are immense. Every house's financial state is different; it wouldn't be right for me to decide for them. Let us discuss this privately after the meeting. Each house should provide whatever support they can, based on their actual situation and capacity."
Egger had hoped to strike while the iron was hot, taking advantage of having most of the Northern nobility gathered in one place to avoid trekking across the map to find them individually. He hadn't expected such a lukewarm response.
But thinking it over calmly, Robb's reasoning made sense. He was the Warden of the North, not its absolute owner or Emperor; he couldn't simply wave a hand and command all his vassals to empty their treasuries to loan to the Night's Watch. In hindsight, bringing it up publicly might have been a bit improper.
If it had to be private, so be it. The days of desperately raising capital for the Night's Watch industries were still fresh in his mind. He had personally fought those battles and built an empire from nothing. Now that his status and reputation were far greater, why should he be afraid of the task?
Confidence was one thing, but once the meeting adjourned and he began visiting the lords one by one to negotiate loans, he ran into trouble.
It wasn't that the Northern lords were stingy; rather, Egger—the 998th Lord Commander—was being sabotaged by his 997 predecessors.
Since its inception, the Night's Watch had relied on the support of the Northern lords. When the Gift was thriving, outside help was a smaller percentage; as the Gift depopulated, that reliance grew. By the time Egger arrived, the Gift's productivity was near zero, and the North was almost entirely feeding the last of the Wall's defenders.
In the minds of the Northern nobility, when a Lord Commander said borrow, it meant give. This was common knowledge throughout the North.
Paying protection money to sponsor a professional army against wildlings—and now White Walkers—was clearly cheaper and easier than calling up and training their own peasants. Since the North shared the border with the lands beyond the Wall, they were the direct beneficiaries and had to shoulder the lion's share; they couldn't push the cost onto the other six kingdoms.
Therefore, if a Man in Black came asking for money, you gave it, but you never expected to see it again. The rule of thumb: don't be too generous. This was the traditional Northern attitude toward the Watch's loans.
When Egger raised funds in King's Landing, he only had to explain he was starting a business. With Tyrion's guarantee and physical products as proof, the bolder lords were willing to invest. But now, coming to the Northern nobles as the Lord of the Wall... he sincerely intended to borrow and fully planned to repay, but the Northern lords simply didn't believe him.
They would rather gift him a hundred than loan him a thousand. If the money wasn't coming back either way, what did the terminology matter?
An image built up over generations was not something Egger could flip with a few words. Furthermore, he faced another hurdle: he couldn't explain exactly what he needed that much money for.
Having sustained the Night's Watch for centuries, the Northern lords knew the costs of guarding the Wall to the last penny. They knew what it cost to arm a thousand men. Even if Egger intended to arm every able-bodied male in the Gift—let's assume ten thousand men—the expenses would only be ten times the original.
Between the grain loan from the Iron Bank and the income from the Watch's own industries, why did the Lord Commander need so much gold? To line his own pockets... or to start a rebellion?
Egger couldn't exactly pull out gunpowder and say honestly, "I'm trying to establish a trans-generational military-industrial complex and mass-produce firearms for combat. Eventually, we'll use them not just to blast White Walkers, but potentially against the stone castles of the Seven Kingdoms... but it's expensive, so I need investment, right?"
The Northern nobles who controlled their family coffers were practical managers who knew the price of salt and grain. They had a mental scale for the costs of food, clothing, and feeding an army. Since he couldn't trick them and didn't want to tell the truth, Egger couldn't insist on a specific massive sum; he could only fight for as much as possible.
Fortunately, the Northern lords weren't entirely tight-fisted. Those further south, who had less to do with the Watch, gave a token few dozen or a hundred gold dragons as a gesture of support. Those in the north, under the direct protection of the Wall, naturally gave several times that. Houses that had lost sons in the war against the Ironborn, along with House Stark, contributed a bit more. Bit by bit, he scraped together over ten thousand gold dragons. While short of his expectations, combined with the future reimbursements for the coastal outpost, it wasn't a wasted trip.
Among the crowd of grudging Northern lords who treated the loan like a collection plate—apportioning shares based on proximity, family power, and land size just to get rid of this new Commander—only one man was different.
After nightfall, Roose Bolton invited Egger to speak on the walls of Deepwood Motte.
The blizzard from his patrol of the Wall had long since passed. The moon appeared fitfully behind clouds driven by a cold wind, casting intermittent pale light over the endless Wolfswood. Accompanying the moonlight was a rhythmic shhh-shhh... a sound like the sighing of trees, a subtle yet grand and ceaseless wave of leaves.
When the wind rose, the sound intensified; when it died, it grew quiet. Hearing it, one understood why Deepwood Motte was always so vulnerable to ambush.
After brief pleasantries, the two strolled along the edge of the wooden wall. Egger first expressed his gratitude to Lord Bolton.
The Old Flayer was ruthless and cold, likely harboring treacherous thoughts toward the Starks, and he had sired that appalling piece of work, the Bastard of Bolton. Fortunately, in this timeline, Ramsay Snow had been decisively eliminated by Egger the moment he encountered him disguised as Reek, before he could cause widespread ruin.
But one thing was separate from another. Whatever kind of man Roose Bolton was didn't change the fact that he had spoken up for Egger multiple times. To this man who had been almost a total stranger, a man who was not an ally yet acted like one, Egger's thanks were genuine.
"The Lord Commander is too kind." Even when the Lord of the Dreadfort smiled, it carried a bone-chilling coldness. If he were a villain in a modern film, he'd likely sweep every award. "To be honest, when I first saw the Chief Logistics Officer of the Night's Watch in King Robert's camp outside the Bloody Gate in the Vale, I knew you were no ordinary man. Sure enough, after not seeing you for two years, even I must call you 'my Lord' and rely on you for protection."
"Lord Bolton overpraises me. It is only by the trust of my brothers and the support of the Northern houses that I have the chance to serve as Commander. I shall do my utmost to keep the North and the Seven Kingdoms safe."
"Why bother with such platitudes?" Bolton dismissed the mindless humility, refraining from showing disdain only because Egger was an outlander with a different culture. "My view of this world is simple—the capable should rise and show their hand. Don't tell me that if Cotter Pyke or Ser Denys had become Lord Commander, you would have sat quietly as a subordinate and abandoned your head full of ideas?"
The man seemed to have entirely forgotten about his bastard and Reek, which was a relief. However, while grateful for the help, Egger didn't forget that the man before him was dangerous. He wasn't some naive child who would open his heart and tell all just because of a few favors.
He smiled and gave no answer.
"Of course, such hypotheticals are meaningless now. You became Lord Commander as I hoped, taking over the Wall and the Gift." Bolton understood and appreciated Egger's caution. "Let's talk of more practical matters... Your attempt to borrow money has the Northern lords whispering in private. They think you're taking advantage of the situation, trying to skim off the top while helping with the naval port—trading a favor for gold."
That the Northern lords had discussed him in private before his arrival was likely true; otherwise, they wouldn't have given such uniform donations as if by appointment. They certainly harbored some resentment about the Watch asking for money, but Egger didn't believe it was severe.
You can't have your cake and eat it too. Much like the strategy games Egger played before his transmigration, one often had to choose between gold, prestige, or favor. Right now, he needed gold. As long as he didn't provoke people to the point of turning against him, face was something he could throw away without a second thought.
Egger wasn't so arrogant as to expect to take people's money and have them feel happy about it.
What did Roose Bolton mean by mentioning this? Was he trying to drive a wedge between him and the Northern lords? The tactic seemed almost childishly simple.
For a moment, Egger didn't know how to respond, so he offered a dry defense. "Construction in the Gift isn't just about feeding the Watch and the residents. It's about making the land prosperous and strong, giving it the ability to be self-sufficient and to maintain resistance even if the White Walkers cross the Wall. There is a long road ahead to achieve that. While I cannot provide an exhaustive itemized list of every copper spent, this money is certainly not going into my personal pocket."
"I believe you." Bolton shrugged, his breath condensing into white mist. "I would even bet that given enough time and resources, you could turn the Gift into a power greater than any house in the North. You could train the Night's Watch into the most effective fighting force in Westeros."
He turned to look at Egger, not giving him a chance to interrupt. "But have you considered the long-term future? These men were willing to give money today because, firstly, they hope you can help in the war against the Ironborn, and secondly, they have seen the wights Commander Mormont brought south. They know the Watch isn't just scamming them. But what about later? Once the Ironborn are broken and this winter is over, how will you continue to feed forty thousand residents and maintain a Night's Watch that will, by then, be the largest standing army on the continent? By farming in the Gift? Even if you could, would you be content doing so?"
In the dim night, the Lord of the Dreadfort's gaze turned sharp for a fleeting second. "I suspect you are not a man who can sit quietly. Deep in your eyes, there is a fire. You hide it well, but alas—not well enough!"
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