GOT/ASOIAF: Ruler Beyond the Ice

Aegor had to admit that Tyrion was right. He really couldn't bring himself to feel happy right now. The excitement he had felt upon learning that he would be leaving the Wall had all but faded. The weight of the many tasks that lay ahead dulled his mood. There was no room left for laughter, teasing, or even the occasional sharp remark. As he and Tyrion walked back to their quarters, they discussed the schedule for his departure and a few other details. Even his footsteps felt heavier than usual.

Aegor's attention was drawn to a tall, rough-looking member of the Night's Watch heading toward him, carrying a large sack slung over his shoulder.

"Oser, what's in the bag?" Aegor asked.

"Supplies. Lord Benjen has decided to head north tomorrow morning to search for Waymar Royce, the wildlings, and any other strange happenings—assuming they're even real." Oser, an experienced ranger, stopped and adjusted the weight of the sack, eyeing Aegor up and down with a faint smirk, as though seeing him properly for the first time. "Huh. The so-called White Walker slayer, reduced to running errands for supplies. Ready to head off to King's Landing to live the good life?"

"You wouldn't believe how many assignments I've been saddled with," Aegor replied with a wry smile. Among the black brothers, let alone outsiders like Tyrion, there were still many who didn't believe in the existence of White Walkers. They dismissed it as nonsense, thinking that the Lord Commander and Benjen Stark were mad to take the words of a few deserters seriously. But now that Benjen had made his plans clear, there was no need to keep secrets. "Of course, compared to your mission—wandering the wilderness looking for White Walkers—it does sound like an easy job. Speaking of which, how are the special weapons coming along?"

"Valyrian steel," Oser said flatly. "There's only one Valyrian steel weapon in the entire Castle Black, and that's the Commander's sword. Benjen refused his offer to lend it to him. We've managed to gather some obsidian—dragonglass. We made three spearheads and a dozen arrows. If what you've said about the numbers is true, that should suffice."

"I can only swear that I've seen five White Walkers with my own eyes, but there's no way there are only five in existence. They're like lords or princes. They roam in small groups, harvesting wildling lives and stealing babies to strengthen their army of the dead. When the Haunted Forest is devoid of life, and they've amassed enough strength to assault the Wall, they'll rally together."

Aegor put aside his thoughts about his assignments and turned serious. His duties as a ranger—or rather, his role as a jack-of-all-trades—dictated that he should do his job well. Whatever his personal conflicts, he didn't want his comrades to march into danger unprepared. Self-interest aside, a devastating defeat for the Night's Watch would mean a heavier burden on everyone, including himself. Supplies would dwindle, and more would be demanded of the remaining brothers.

In short, their survival was tied to his own.

"There's something else you need to remember. White Walkers aren't mindless beasts; they're intelligent beings. Killing one of them will have alerted the others. Even with obsidian weapons, you'll need to stay vigilant."

Oser yawned, clearly unimpressed. "Tell that to Benjen. I'm just a soldier. I follow orders. The rest isn't my concern."

"I've already told him," Aegor said, trying to keep his tone measured. "But this is the kind of thing where the more people know, the better. One more thing, if anyone dies on the road or you come across a corpse, you must burn it. Fire works on the wights, but it won't kill a White Walker."

"Got it. Burn the corpses, use dragonglass, and pray to whatever gods will listen. Anything else?" Oser grumbled. "I'm not good with details. Now, if you'll excuse me…" The ranger waved him off irritably and marched away without looking back, the sack bouncing on his shoulder.

---

"I'm used to your bluntness," Tyrion said with a smirk as he watched Oser disappear down the corridor. "I never thought I'd see you being so… long-winded. You almost made me believe in these White Walkers of yours."

Aegor forced a small smile. There was no point in trying to convince Tyrion. The man was a skeptic by nature, and Aegor didn't have the energy for an argument.

No matter how he justified his actions, the truth remained: he was abandoning his post and leaving the Wall behind. He was using his knowledge—his "insider information"—to escape danger.

Benjen Stark, on the other hand, was about to lead seven rangers into the unknown, searching for evidence of an ancient enemy that most believed to be a myth. Each of them was a seasoned fighter, yet without Valyrian steel, they would face an enemy with superior strength, deadly weapons, and the element of surprise. Even armed with dragonglass, they were walking into a death trap.

By rights, Aegor should have been among them. His absence would increase the risks for the others, even if only by a fraction. If Will, one of the rangers replacing him, died during the mission, it would be hard to ignore the guilt of having shifted that burden onto someone else.

But guilt alone wasn't enough to change his mind. He wasn't a hero, nor was he foolish enough to throw himself into a doomed expedition.

"What's wrong?" Tyrion asked, noticing his companion's heavy expression.

"Nothing," Aegor replied lightly, forcing himself to sound indifferent. "I guess I'm just too honest for my own good."

Honest? Hardly. It felt more like cowardice. Yet saying anything more would feel like cursing his comrades to their deaths. He'd learned his lesson from Bran's fall: some things were beyond his power to change. Until he had the status and authority to make a difference, words meant little. "I suppose I'm just feeling a bit sentimental. Leaving the Wall is harder than I expected."

Tyrion raised an eyebrow. "Sentimental? If I recall correctly, you didn't come here by choice."

"No, but it wasn't the Night's Watch who brought me here," Aegor said with a shake of his head. "Since I've been here, I've had the same treatment as everyone else. Food, shelter, even a bit of coin. It's not much, but it's fair. A nobleman I'd never met condemned me to this place, but the Night's Watch… they didn't treat me unfairly. Do you understand what I mean?"

"I think so. You don't hate them."

"Exactly."

Aegor fell silent, watching the black brothers busy themselves with preparations for the next day's patrol. His irritation over the daunting assignments faded. Compared to the rangers heading north, his burdens seemed trivial. Not only was he avoiding this dangerous expedition, but his journey to King's Landing would also keep him far from Mormont's inevitable decision to launch a larger search-and-rescue mission if Benjen's party failed to return.

For all his complaints, Aegor realized he was lucky. A few extra responsibilities were a small price to pay for survival.

He'd once told Jon that hardships were a test, a way for the gods to prepare those they deemed capable. Now, he found himself in need of the same advice. If he didn't push himself, how would he know what he was capable of?

Before crossing over into this world, Aegor had been cushioned by the privileges of modern life. He had never truly struggled. Here, equality in misery meant there was no easy path, but it also meant that every achievement would be earned.

The days of coasting were over. From now on, his success—or failure—would depend entirely on his own decisions. As a recruiter, a resource manager, and an emissary, he would rise to the challenge. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

***

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