Chapter 319: Where Did the Corpse Go?

"Everyone, please don't panic or be anxious." In the front courtyard of Black Castle, Maester Aemon pressed both hands down as he tried to calm the still-bickering crowd. "Ser Barristan is still here. He represents Queen Daenerys and has full authority over all matters concerning Westeros."

Although Barristan was secretly resentful that the queen hadn't informed him beforehand, he didn't oppose her decision to leave.

There were two reasons for this. First, he trusted in the queen's abilities—he still had the magical coordinate she left on his wrist, which allowed them to communicate over long distances. Second, like old Aemon, he feared that some people might seize the opportunity to make a move.

—For the Iron Throne, even one's own brother could be killed. How could he possibly trust a Baratheon?

He was indeed an honest man, but honesty didn't mean stupidity.

"Yes, I am the Queen's Kingsguard, the White Knight Captain, and I represent the Queen in handling the matter of the wildlings at Senne Camp." The White Knight replied solemnly.

Stannis clenched his jaw and glared at the White Knight for a long time before asking sourly, "Ser, why didn't you come to Dragonstone to find me?"

Barristan hadn't expected Stannis to bring that up so suddenly. He paused for a moment, then gave a bitter smile and said, "Your Grace Stannis, you've all misunderstood.

After Joffrey stripped me of my white cloak, I never considered pledging myself to any king again.

Truly.

You and Lord Renly are Joffrey's blood uncles—"

"Joffrey is not Robert's son," Stannis interrupted angrily.

"Everyone accepted his identity," the White Knight replied noncommittally. "Even though he took away my cloak, my honor would not allow me to incite an uncle to rebel against his nephew. So neither you nor Lord Renly were ever options for me.

That left only King Robb.

I sympathized with his fate, but I would not support the fragmentation of the kingdom.

At the time, I was preparing to go to a small sept in the countryside and devote the rest of my life to the Seven."

"Then how did you become her White Knight?" Stannis ground his teeth.

"Varys found me."

"Varys?" Stannis exclaimed.

"Yes. I was praying at the Great Sept of Baelor when one of his little birds approached me. He told me about Her Majesty Daenerys.

I couldn't refuse. It was a chance—a chance to redeem myself.

But I had no intention of serving another mad king. So when I met her, I concealed my identity and observed her for nearly half a year. I found her to be merciful, wise, kind, and intelligent—"

"Enough!"

The old knight was reminiscing with a blissful expression, but Stannis looked as if he'd been force-fed dung. His face twisted in disgust as he cut him off. "She's gone now. How do you plan to contact her?"

"How else?" The White Knight glared at him and replied as if it were obvious. "Of course through ravens. I'm at the Wall, aren't I? If she has any orders, just send the raven here."

"How do you contact her?" Stannis pressed.

Barristan answered, "Send a raven to Dragonstone."

"Dragonstone? You're trying to seize my Dragonstone?" The veins in Stannis' jaw bulged with rage.

"Dragonstone is Targaryen ancestral land!" Aemon said with a frown.

Stannis gave the old man a cold look and emphasized, "It's my territory now."

"Didn't she vow earlier not to provoke any conflict with the forces stationed at the Wall until the threat of the White Walkers was dealt with?

That promise can't only apply to the Wall, can it?We came to support the North, and she goes south to steal our homeland. Who would dare leave their fiefdom to help the Wall then?"

What Stannis said wasn't entirely unreasonable.

For example, if the Lannisters marched north to fight the White Walkers, surely Dany wouldn't seize Casterly Rock in their absence?

There was just one issue—Stannis had been drifting at sea for several months, so he was behind on the news.

"Dragonstone isn't yours anymore," Barristan said with a strange look. "Right after you left, the Lannisters seized the opportunity while Dragonstone was poorly defended. They sent several thousand troops to surround the castle. Just over half a month ago, Ser Loras stormed Dragonstone and took it."

Stannis' expression darkened. He turned to Maester Aemon and demanded, "You're the Maester of Castle Black—why didn't you inform me of this?"

Aemon's aged face wrinkled deeply as he slowly explained, "I didn't know either. The Citadel hasn't sent any ravens to the Wall for the past few months."

"The Citadel doesn't concern itself with minor affairs like this," Pylos yawned wearily, defending the Citadel. "It's too far. Unless there are seasonal changes or a major shift in King's Landing's political structure, the Citadel doesn't send messages to the Wall."

"She hasn't left." Melisandre's hands were tucked inside her sleeves as she gracefully emerged from the shadows. As she spoke, everyone could see a pigeon-egg-sized ruby at her throat glowing with a mysterious red light.

"Daenerys went to the North. She should be returning soon," she said softly.

"You saw her in the flames?" Stannis' thin lips pressed into a line as he recalled seeing the red priestess alone in her chamber that afternoon, staring into the fire.

Under what circumstances had she seen the queen?

Was she seeking the prophesied one? Or had she followed his orders and attempted to use shadow magic on Daenerys?

Stannis clenched his teeth and his jaw tensed out of habit.

Just by looking at his face, Melisandre could guess his thoughts. She sighed inwardly. Faced with a dragon-riding Targaryen, even he was beginning to doubt the prophecy.

She couldn't blame him. Even she had wavered before—what if the prophecy was wrong? What if the true reincarnation of Azor Ahai was Daenerys?

However, when she communed with R'hllor to seek the prophesied one, she hadn't seen the Dragon Queen. In the flames, the face she saw was still Stannis', though it had grown dimmer—less vivid than it had been on Dragonstone. Another figure often appeared alongside his.

The red priestess cast a subtle glance at Jon among the Night's Watch and gave a quiet cough before slowly saying, "I sensed the surge of draconic power. She was in battle—with a powerful enemy. A confrontation on the level of souls."

"What kind of enemy?" Barristan asked anxiously.

"A servant of the Other. The Great Other has had its eye on her for some time. I even warned her this afternoon. Perhaps she finally sensed the raven that landed on her brow." The priestess spoke solemnly.

The others didn't fully understand, but they could at least tell that the Dragon Queen was up against a formidable foe.

Still, only a few truly worried for her. In fact, some of the Night's Watch and Stannis' armored knights exchanged glances, with barely concealed excitement and glee.

The White Knight's expression changed, and he said urgently, "Where? I'll go to her immediately."

The Red Woman, however, remained calm. Neither overly concerned nor gloating, she said lightly, "It's no use even if you go. The battle was fought on a spiritual level. And it ended at dusk."

A trace of concern flashed across Aemon's blue eyes as he asked in a trembling voice, "Who won? You said Her Majesty Daenerys is on her way back—does that mean she won?"

"Not sure. Whoever won or lost, neither side suffered any fatal damage. It doesn't affect her returning to the Wall to rest."

"She must've been seriously injured, though?" a short, stocky knight with rotten brown teeth said, his eyes flickering.

The red-robed woman gave him a faint glance without replying, but the atmosphere in the courtyard suddenly became hot and stifling, as if a strange, flickering flame had ignited in everyone's heart.

The red-nosed old maester also sensed the shift in mood. His brows furrowed into a deep crease, and he tried to change the subject: "Who is the Other God? The White Walkers?"

"The White Walkers are merely the servants of the Other God."

"Skreee—" A loud dragon's cry echoed from the southern sky. The diverse thoughts of the gathered people were instantly interrupted as they all looked up.

Moments later, two enormous black shadows swept beneath the silver-white full moon, accompanied by the clear sound of massive wings flapping.

Whoosh, whoosh— A gust of wind rolled through the courtyard. The white dragon landed lightly—unexpectedly graceful for its size—on the eastern steps of the King's Tower. The Dragon Queen's powerful voice followed: "Are you all moon-gazing in the courtyard?"

"Uh..." The group, who had been observing her with worry, tension, and curiosity, was momentarily awkward until Maester Aemon stepped forward and asked, "Your Majesty, are you alright?"

"What could possibly be wrong with me?" Daenerys asked, puzzled.

"Lady Melisandre told us that you fought a powerful enemy this evening," the old maester said with confusion.

"Oh, that. I was fighting it," Daenerys glanced at the red-robed woman, who was looking over with curiosity. She lifted a large raven in her hand and joked, "Have you ever seen a raven this big, old man? It chased me for ages and even tried to peck at my dragon. Took me a lot of effort to kill it—I'm soaked in sweat."

"Huh?" The old maester was stunned. A raven chased you? Pecked at your dragon? What kind of raven was that—could it be the Raven God?

Melisandre's eyes flickered as she looked back and forth between the raven and Daenerys's smiling face. After a moment, she spoke with a complicated tone: "I didn't expect you to hunt down this raven with your own power. I underestimated you."

"Huh?" The crowd was confused. It was just a black raven, albeit a bit larger than a regular messenger bird. It didn't seem to be some mythical beast—wasn't it just a matter of shooting it down with an arrow?

Daenerys tossed the dead raven to the ground and urged loudly, "If you have time to sit around and chat, why not burn the corpses of today's fallen instead?"

The pomegranate-faced steward hesitated and said, "The wildlings are manageable, but nearly three hundred knights died today. Brother Seledar is still busy preparing their remains. He's been at it since noon and isn't finished yet."

"Then store the knights in the crypt for now. Start by burning the bodies of the Free Folk and the common soldiers. You Night's Watch brothers should understand better than anyone how terrifying it is to leave corpses overnight."

"Even if stored in the crypt, we must chain their ankles with iron," Jon reminded.

"No need to worry. The Wall possesses magic that can block the power of the Cold God," Melisandre said gently.

"A year ago, a corpse came back to life right beneath the Wall," Jon said with a frown.

"It must have revived outside the Wall and deliberately pretended to be dead to sneak into Castle Black," the red-robed woman asserted.

Ygritte, who had been watching the commotion from the side, squeezed through the crowd, cautiously glanced at the white dragon, then shouted up at Daenerys, "Dragon Queen, we want to send them off properly."

"Who are you?"

"Giants and Free Folk."

"If you leave Castle Black, you must wear shackles," Daenerys reminded.

Outside the Wall, on the open ground between the old and new camps, the wildlings had built an enormous funeral pyre—nearly the size of a football field. The base layer was half a meter high, made of pine logs and branches, filled with semi-dried leaves and weeds.

The pile was stacked high with corpses, forming a daunting sight. But after confirming the numbers, Daenerys was surprised to find that there were far fewer wildling corpses than expected: only eight giants, fewer than a thousand warriors, and a few hundred elderly, women, and children.

Many mammoths and warhorses had also died, but they weren't burned. Instead, the Night's Watch had butchered and salted them, storing the meat in the ice caves beneath the Wall.

Hmm... Daenerys wasn't heartless enough to wish for more wildling deaths just to harvest more spirit matter.

The key issue was that she had personally seen Stannis's cavalry trample through the camps that morning. Tens of thousands of wildlings had fled chaotically into the woods, and the ground was littered with corpses. There were definitely more than two thousand dead.

Even the number of dead giants should've exceeded eight.

"The numbers don't add up."

(End of Chapter)

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