Chapter 352: A Legendary Blade for a Hero?
Dark Sister was roughly two inches shorter than the standard steel swords issued to the Queenscrown Guard, but her overall proportions were slender and elegant. The hilt was somewhat pocket-sized; when Egger gripped it, there wasn't a finger's breadth of room to spare—and this was a grip on the extreme edge of being too short. Having never engaged in much heavy manual labor before or after his crossing, Egger's finger thickness and palm width were both below the average for men his age.
No wonder Bran referred to the sword as "her."
As the former sidearm of Visenya Targaryen, Dark Sister was clearly designed with a woman's slender hands in mind. However, more than its aesthetic form, what left Egger in awe was its weight—or more accurately, its density.
Even taking its slender and thin profile into account, it was far too light. After weighing it in his hand, Egger estimated that a steel sword of the same volume would weigh at least twice as much as Dark Sister. This meant that the density of Valyrian steel was only about half that of iron.
As everyone knows, F=ma. If the same person used two weapons with identical shapes, a weapon with half the weight could be swung with twice the acceleration. Even disregarding mystical properties like being forged by magic, resisting extreme cold, or being the bane of White Walkers—attributes that seemed ethereal to the average person—the two physical traits of sheer toughness and incredible lightness made a Valyrian steel sword the ultimate equipment every warrior in the age of cold steel dreamed of.
Egger couldn't help but speculate on its composition and proportions. Could it be that the Valyrian Freehold had developed a process for producing something akin to high-quality titanium alloys a thousand years ago?
If conditions permitted, Egger might truly have conducted a chemical analysis to attempt replication. Unfortunately, that level of technology was far beyond current needs and short-term capabilities; everything had to be prioritized.
After his observation thoroughly satisfied his curiosity, Egger began to ponder how to dispose of the blade.
Bran said, a legendary blade for a hero—hah, what a wonderful expectation.
Leading tens of thousands of men to clash head-on with a sea of wights, wielding a legendary divine weapon to lop off the Night King's head, ending the winter and saving all of humanity... it wasn't just epic and heroic; it felt immensely satisfying just to think about. It was the happily ever after ending a fantasy novel ought to have.
Moreover, even ignoring the existence of White Walkers and looking at it from a personal perspective, hanging a Valyrian steel sword at one's waist was a move with absolute style and prestige. Best of all, the family of the sword's original owner had long since perished without heirs; no one would ever come knocking to demand it back.
Keeping good things for oneself is a primal instinct for anyone, but Egger had a second thought: he was neither a world-renowned warrior of high prowess nor a member of the inner noble circles. To hang a priceless sword worth as much as the entire Night's Watch industry at his waist as a decoration... would be far too ostentatious and wasteful. If he wasn't careful, he would fall victim to the crime of possessing something that attract unwanted trouble.
As a bane of the Others, dragonsteel had to be used to cut them down to fulfill its purpose. And Egger, coincidentally, was one of the few people on earth who had actually fought an Other. His understanding of these magical creatures' formidable physical specs was far more concrete than abstract descriptions like throwing a sword through a tree or tossing a spear to down a dragon.
His memory couldn't reconstruct all the details of that desperate struggle in the forest, but his physical senses helped at this moment: the moment he recalled the Other's ghostly blue eyes, the webbing of his sword hand seemed to throb with a phantom pain of splitting—and that was with his steel sword shattering in time to dissipate most of the force.
And the enemy possessed far more than just great strength.
The Others had magic, they had intelligence, and they had the bitter lesson of their defeat in the Battle for the Dawn. Valyrian steel was their bane, but would these beings, who had already lost kin to it, be foolish enough to walk right into the edge of a dragonsteel blade?
They need only place thousands upon thousands of wights between themselves and the human heroes. Even if they stood still and let Egger hack away with Dark Sister, he would collapse from exhaustion before reaching them.
He was the supreme leader of the Night's Watch, the navigator and backbone of the entire Gift. A man's energy is limited, and as the saying goes—everyone has their specialty. Despite maintaining a modicum of exercise amidst his busy work, these mere four years since his crossing were decidedly not enough to turn an average adult male past his prime for martial training into a master swordsman while simultaneously climbing from a common soldier to Lord Commander.
Egger could lead the army personally, but he couldn't lead the charge every single time. If he were to rush into the core of every battle simply because he held the bane of the Others, recklessly seeking a duel with the Night King, it would be as nonsensical as buying a car just because he won a free tire.
The sword was a waste in his hands.
Formidable rationality allowed Egger to make this judgment in a heartbeat, pushing against human nature.
His second thought was naturally to give it to someone else. Dark Sister was a woman's sword, and it was brought back from beyond the Wall by Brandon Stark... according to the logic of the original story, it would most likely end up in the hands of Arya, becoming the blade of the young Faceless Girl to be used in the final showdown.
Unfortunately, due to his interference and protection, Arya never got the chance to sail to Braavos for the brutal training at the House of Black and White. Though her talent and hard work had made her a decent swordswoman, she was merely outstanding among her peers. Placing her on the ultimate battlefield of Ice and Fire would be entirely insufficient.
Egger tossed that whimsical thought into the trash after a moment's consideration and thought of other candidates. It was true this was a woman's sword, but in serious weapon classification, there is no distinction between "men's" and "women's" use. Dark Sister only needed a slightly larger hilt and a minor adjustment to the balance to become a standard one-handed sword—just a few centimeters shorter and slightly more pointed. Given the toughness of Valyrian steel, there wouldn't be much difference in practical use.
Among his confidants, whose swordsmanship was worthy of a Valyrian steel blade?
With Jon already possessing Longclaw gifted by the Old Bear, Egger thought it over and it seemed only Jaime Lannister fit the criteria.
Egger wasn't entirely satisfied with this, for a simple reason: the Kingslayer was merely someone he had known early on, someone he was close to on a daily basis, and someone who rarely disobeyed orders... he was ostensibly his man. He stayed in the Night's Watch now only because he chose to, not out of loyalty or submission to the new Lord Commander. To gift such a precious sword to a defiant figure he couldn't fully control just to win him over felt like throwing a meat bun at a dog.
Furthermore, it was debatable which offered a higher return: one excellent warrior wielding a dragonsteel weapon, or the massive funds gained from selling the sword to arm hundreds or thousands of soldiers. Jaime Lannister was famous across the Seven Kingdoms, and his skill was indeed peerless, but even if the Kingslayer could take on a dozen ordinary soldiers at once, could his killing efficiency against a sea of wights really be higher than dragonglass bombs?
After a few seconds of internal conflict, a flash of inspiration struck Egger: the two weren't mutually exclusive. He could sell Dark Sister to the Lannisters at a discount, with the caveat that the sword must be used by Jaime until the war ended. Wouldn't that provide both the money and the temporary retention of this Other-bane within the Night's Watch for the final battle?
As for whether Jaime kept the sword or sent it back to Casterly Rock after the war—that would be their own family business!
Perfect.
Egger pondered as he walked toward the Great Hall of the Nightfort. He had settled on the plan in minutes, but just as he was about to give the order, a loud greeting from a guard rang in his ear.
"Good day, Lady Melisandre."
Several loyal guards had joined the Night's Watch industry back in King's Landing and were selected for his security detail. After two years, there was a natural rapport between master and servants. This greeting seemed like a mark of respect for the Red Woman, but it was actually a reminder for the distracted Egger. He looked up and saw the Red Priestess approaching with a furrowed brow, looking travel-worn. She had clearly rushed here the moment she heard the news.
"The boy has returned from beyond the Wall?"
"Yes. Why?"
"At a time like this, can a normal person survive the journey from beyond the Wall back to the Nightfort? Especially a... cripple!" The witch cared nothing for House Stark, and her words were merciless. She stared into Egger's eyes with her crimson orbs. "Are you not even slightly worried that this is a scout, a spy... or even an assassin of the Great Other?"
Egger had a headache.
This Red Priestess, with her unwavering dualism, was exactly like the extremists and internet trolls of the real world. In Melisandre's eyes, the world was either red or white. If you weren't an approved comrade or didn't agree with her view, you were the enemy—anyone who wasn't a follower of R'hllor was a heretic and a suspected minion of the Great Other.
Egger had neither the time nor the energy to shift Melisandre's mindset. He shook his head. "Only one in a thousand skinchangers becomes a Greenseer. He can now see everything that has happened and is happening through the weirwoods and the eyes of myriad creatures. He is one of the Watch's most powerful allies, not an enemy."
"No wonder I felt such a strong aura of the Other the moment I entered this castle. Such wicked sorcery—you truly dare to take it for your own use?" If Egger weren't her chosen Prince Who Was Promised, Melisandre would never have spoken so calmly. She was as anxious and angry as a mother whose child was failing to meet expectations. "You carry a heavy burden now. The enemy will surely look for ways to deal with you. You must maintain maximum vigilance. How can you be so trusting of outsiders!"
Melisandre was right, and Egger did maintain a degree of caution; back before his crossing, he had heard the theory that Bran is the Night King. But... Robb Stark's brother was standing right here. Without solid evidence, could he just arbitrarily burn him to death and then fight a two-front war against the Others and the North in the coming showdown?
"I just spoke with him. Bran proactively offered to join the Night's Watch and will likely settle in Queenscrown. You will have plenty of chances to observe him later. For today, leave him be." The weary Lord Commander had no desire for more words and simply raised Dark Sister in his hand. "Look, this is what he brought back for me from beyond the Wall—I don't think the enemy would proactively send me such a grand gift."
The witch frowned, looking down to scold Egger further, but was suddenly drawn by the fire-attribute magic emanating from the blade. Her expression changed drastically as she realized it was a sword: "Lightbringer?!"
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