GOT/ASOIAF: Ruler Beyond the Ice

Aegor raised an eyebrow. "Bad news? I can't think of anything right now that would make me unhappy."

"It's not bad news," the dwarf replied with a sly grin. "I managed to convince the Night's Watch leadership to let you head back to King's Landing with me as a so-called 'supply collector.' But—well, in the process, I may have bragged about you a little. Maester Aemon has decided to give you a chance to show off your abilities. So, aside from the task I mentioned earlier, you've been saddled with a few extra responsibilities."

No matter how many responsibilities there were, they were preferable to patrolling beyond the Wall, especially when those patrols were aimed at tracking down White Walkers. Aegor wasn't particularly moved but was curious nonetheless. "Such as?"

"Yoren will also be heading south in a few days," Tyrion said, picking up his pace to fend off the cold. "He'll be tasked with recruiting fresh blood in King's Landing for the Wall. I've decided to go along with him. As for you—Commander Mormont wants Yoren to bring the first group of recruits back to the Wall, then turn right around and head south for a second group. In the meantime, you'll also be recruiting for the Night's Watch."

The "Wandering Crows," who officially acted as recruiters for the Night's Watch, had a reputation for being little more than scavengers. Men like Yoren rarely sought out volunteers. Instead, they roamed from one noble's dungeon to the next, asking for permission to pluck prisoners for the Wall. At best, they might trawl the slums to see if any starving souls were desperate enough to enlist.

Before Aegor had been dragged into this world, he had been an engineer. His work relied on technical skills and qualifications, not networking or charm. He had no experience hosting social events or wining and dining clients. Recruiting soldiers? Hardly a skill he'd developed.

But apparently, the way he'd handled himself during the desertion incident had left an impression. The leadership, used to dealing with criminals and vagabonds, seemed to think his competence extended to everything.

Still, how hard could it be? Even if he bungled the job, could he really do worse than Yoren? Aegor sighed. "What else?"

"Dragonstone has agreed to let the Night's Watch mine obsidian on the island. They'll provide access and basic support, but the rest is up to us," Tyrion continued. "And guess what? Commander Mormont has decided you're in charge of this operation as well."

"Dragonstone and King's Landing are separated only by Blackwater Bay," Aegor muttered, inhaling sharply. "So not only do I have to collect food, supplies, and men for the Watch, but I'm also responsible for managing a mining operation? Do they think I have three heads and six arms? How much manpower and funding am I being given?"

"Ah, about that…" Tyrion smirked. "The Night's Watch is strapped for resources. There's no funding available. As for manpower, Mormont plans to request workers from northern families, but you'll need to organize the mining effort and—well—front the costs for tools and equipment. The Watch will 'try' to reimburse you later. On the bright side, the Night's Watch fleet is at your disposal."

Aegor didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Eastwatch did indeed have a "fleet," but its size was laughable. Two thin rowing vessels, the Storm Crow and the Claw, were tasked with patrolling Seal Bay for smugglers selling weapons to wildlings. A larger transport ship, the Blackbird, occasionally sailed to the Free Cities for trade. Altogether, the fleet's crew and port staff numbered fewer than two hundred.

So "at his disposal" essentially meant he'd be using the ships to haul obsidian back to the Wall.

The mining itself wasn't the problem; he could always consult a mine owner for advice. But how in the world was he supposed to advance the funds? He was as broke as they came. And until the North provided workers, he might as well grab a pickaxe and start digging himself. Without tools or funds, he'd have to rely on Tyrion to bear the financial burden yet again.

Just moments ago, Aegor had felt a flicker of gratitude for the leadership's willingness to let him leave the Wall. Now, he was drowning in the avalanche of responsibilities they'd dumped on him. Freedom, it seemed, came with a steep price.

"Since I'm involved, I'll help you figure something out," Tyrion offered.

"Tyrion…" Aegor hesitated, a touch of guilt creeping into his voice. "I'm sorry to keep costing you money."

"Cost me money? You think I'll just hand over the funds?" Tyrion raised an eyebrow, his tone laced with mockery. "If I front the costs, your commander will undoubtedly refuse to pay me back. Do you think a Lannister would stoop to chasing after such petty debts?"

Aegor blinked in confusion.

"Here's what I'll do," Tyrion said with a wicked grin. "I'll introduce you to some blacksmiths and wealthy merchants in the mining business. They'll provide tools, supplies, and advice—on credit. Then they can deal directly with Mormont to collect payment. Let's see if your commander dares tarnish the reputation of the Night's Watch over a few coins."

Aegor's eyes lit up. It was a clever move, shifting the financial risk away from himself and Tyrion. "I see your point. Thank you for the help."

"Don't thank me just yet. There's one final task," Tyrion added, his expression taking on a sadistic glee as Aegor's shoulders sagged. "You need to improve the reputation of the Night's Watch among the nobles and common folk south of the Neck. Congratulations! You're now the Night's Watch's envoy, recruiter, mining overseer, and public relations officer. Rather than thanking me, you might want to start brainstorming how to pull all of this off."

Under Tyrion's amused gaze, Aegor pinched the bridge of his nose and took a few deep breaths of icy air to steady himself. The urge to abandon all of this and remain a simple ranger at Castle Black was almost overwhelming.

It was clear the Night's Watch leadership wasn't about to let him leave without piling on as many obstacles as possible. The idea that he could simply pay a ransom, walk away from his vows, and live a peaceful life was laughable.

Each of these tasks—obvious tests of his resolve—was designed to give the officers back at the Wall leverage over him. Should he fail any one of them, they'd have the perfect excuse to recall him.

A year ago, he'd done everything he could to avoid the attention of the higher-ups. Now that he finally had it, he was finding it to be more trouble than it was worth. The irony wasn't lost on him.

Was it even possible to juggle all these responsibilities?

Not on his own. These tasks were far beyond the capabilities of a single person. While knowing the characters and events of this world gave him some advantages, it wasn't a magical solution. Without external support, he wouldn't get far. And right now, his only reliable ally was Tyrion.

The question was: how long could he keep leaning on the Lannister without feeling like a parasite?

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