Chapter 253: Pick the Softest Persimmon

While chaos unfolded at the Wall, the rest of the world did not stand still.

South of the Neck in Westeros, winter had yet to arrive, and the war between Stannis, who now sat on the Iron Throne, and the pretenders to that throne had not come to an end.

On the rebel side: although the Reach had a solid foundation despite repeated defeats, the willingness and determination of its city lords and earls—who held most of the region's resources—to drain their coffers and follow their liege in rebellion had nearly run dry. As for the Golden Company, who flew the banner of the True Dragon, though they had occupied one of Westeros's great strongholds, Storm's End was not King's Landing. The lords of the Stormlands were not the Crownlands' nobles, who had always been loyal to House Targaryen. Aegon and his backers had taken over the enemy's base, but they could not truly control a land that had been loyal to House Baratheon for generations. As for their last potential ally, Dorne, while they had outwardly sent troops to assist, they had never engaged Stannis in any real battle. Diplomatically, they had yet to openly raise the banner of rebellion. Once they had achieved the goal of lifting the siege of Storm's End, they had immediately slithered back down the Boneway like eels, doing the bare minimum and watching from the sidelines as the two fought.

The situation seemed greatly in favor of the ruler on the Iron Throne, but Stannis lacked the military strength to seize the opportunity to unify the Seven Kingdoms. After the mutiny of the Alliance of the Righteous, Jaime's confrontation with the Westerlands after killing the king, and his own struggle with his brother Renly for the throne, the Crownlands, the Vale, and the Riverlands had all suffered heavy losses. The only region still intact, the North, had withdrawn from the Storm's End front and was preparing to return home. More importantly, the Iron Bank had refused to grant the Iron Throne any new loans, and the King of Westeros now faced an unprecedented financial crisis.

...

Aegor had already learned of the above developments while at Castle Black, but the Night's Watch could not, and had no authority to, interfere. After reorganizing two thousand Grey Area residents in Crown Town, he led them south along the Kingsroad in a mighty procession.

Not long ago, he had naively envisioned building a modern-style army, an elite force that could conquer the world through discipline and strength. Unfortunately, plans rarely survive contact with reality. In his first experience leading troops, he found himself commanding a mob only marginally stronger than peasants. The only thing to be thankful for was that the elite soldiers he had trained at the industrial park outside King's Landing could now serve as junior officers, meaning his earlier efforts had not gone to waste.

Putting aside combat effectiveness for now, with these professional soldiers as its backbone, the Gift Army was at least as disciplined in formation and obedience as any other army in Westeros… though much of that credit came from its small size.

Since the stated purpose of the expedition was to "transport grain to the North," Aegor only armed the Mountain Clans. As for the New Gift settlers, he not only broke up their tribal affiliations and reformed them into new units, but also locked away the simple weapons prepared for them in wagons. They marched empty-handed alongside the group, disguised as laborers.

The northern lords remained distrustful of the Night's Watch for allowing Wildlings to pass through the Wall. So, when the Gift Army arrived outside Last Hearth, they were naturally refused entry by the Ambers.

Aegor had already prepared for this. In truth, even if the Ambers had been willing to take in Wildlings, one castle could never house thousands. And after Commander Mormont's death, Aegor didn't dare place all his trust in the Wildlings' obedience and let them freely enter any Northern stronghold.

Fortunately… the Ambers had not turned away a sworn brother of the Night's Watch.

Inside the great hall of Last Hearth, Aegor met Hother Umber, the man currently in charge—a tall, burly, typical Northern man—and learned from him that no new word had come from the Wall.

---

Due to the limitations of the era and the backwardness of communication methods, messages often suffered from long delays. And since many lords and maesters were unaccustomed to dealing with the Night's Watch, Aegor—isolated at the Wall and reliant on sporadic news from King's Landing—remained largely in the dark.

"Balon Greyjoy is dead?" It wasn't entirely unexpected. "When did that happen?"

Hother Umber replied, "A few weeks back. Word is, the old Sea Monster's brother, Euron Greyjoy, returned to the Iron Islands after many years and was crowned King of the Iron Islands… The first thing he did was send word to King's Landing, expressing a desire to make peace and even swear allegiance."

"Swear allegiance to King Stannis? That madman Euron?" Aegor was genuinely surprised. He pressed, "Then why haven't the Ironborn pulled out of the North?"

"Ha! That Sea Monster disappears for years, comes back, kills his brother, and then tries to butter up a king whose rule isn't even stable? Only a fool would fall for that! He's just using it as a cover to raid the coasts of the Westerlands and the Reach. His niece, Asha Greyjoy, is still holed up at Deepwood Motte and Sea Dragon Point, trying to establish her own Ironborn kingdom to rival her uncle. If Crow's Eye really cared about the Iron Throne, he'd deal with that little brat first and bring her home, so the Northern army could follow Stannis into battle without worry… instead of just leaving her up here while he builds ships to sail south and burn, loot, and pillage."

So that was it. Euron's so-called peace gesture was merely a smokescreen, giving him an excuse to resume the Ironborn's old way of life—raiding—under the pretense of supporting the king and suppressing rebellion. He could now "strike" any enemy not loyal to the Iron Throne. Truly, he was killing two birds with one stone. It was similar to Aegor's move of having Jaime and his men vote for Cotter Pyke—supporting the weaker of two rivals to prolong their stalemate, giving the third party time to seize an advantage.

A man like Stannis couldn't possibly be fooled by Euron's ploy. He must have seen through it, but in his current predicament, he needed outside forces to pin down the Reach. Even knowing it was a trick, he likely had no choice but to go along with it.

Speaking of which, Aegor somewhat regretted having hanged Ramsay Snow outside Crown Town so soon. He couldn't help but wonder what kind of fireworks might have exploded had that twisted bastard and Crow's Eye Euron ever crossed paths.

Of course, one of them had already been turned to ash and buried in a shallow grave outside Crown Town, and such speculation would remain nothing but fantasy.

If only dealing with Euron could be as easy as dealing with Ramsay.

...

Aegor quickly sifted through the newly gathered intelligence in his mind and found that the current situation was favorable to his plans. "So, the Ironborn invading the North have now lost contact with their home forces and can no longer expect support from the Iron Islands?"

"That's right. They're boxed in near the Wolfswood along the western coast and no longer dare cross east of the Kingsroad. You've arrived too late to be of much use."

"Is that so? Please forgive me." On the contrary, Aegor thought it was the perfect time. With no experience in commanding troops, what better way to practice than against such a soft target? "No matter. Isn't Deepwood Motte still in their hands? We'll start with that."

"Hmph. You'd be better off going south to Caitlin Bay. Our new Lord Stark is leading his men back north to rescue us, but they're stuck outside the Neck because of the Ironborn. If we just sent a few troops to hit them from both sides, we could break through the blockade, let our twenty thousand Northern men return home, sweep away that Sea Monster's Daughter and her weaklings, and even march on the Iron Islands to subdue the Greyjoys again. It's just a matter of giving the order."

Caitlin Bay had once been the North's "Bloody Gate," located on the causeway—the only route through the Neck. For thousands of years, it had served as the North's best defense against southern invasions. Now it had been seized from behind and turned into a choke point, trapping Northern forces outside their own gate. The irony was bitter.

Hother Umber's plan was not wrong, but Aegor had his own reasoning. "Yes… that's true. But Deepwood Motte is closer. Besides, if we ignore the threat to the north and go south to the Neck, what if those Ironborn circle behind us and strike? With the Mountain Clans' level of training, they might not be able to hold the line."

"Suit yourself. You brought these people here. How you use them is your business." Hother Umber snorted, stared hard at Aegor, then suddenly slapped the table. "Seven hells, I know what you're up to, boy! You're afraid Robb Stark will come back and hold the Night's Watch accountable for letting Wildlings pass through the Wall, so you want to earn some merit for the North first. That way the Young Wolf will owe you a favor and won't be able to say a damn thing, right?"

Well then. This "bane of whores" might look like a brute, but he saw through Aegor's plan quickly enough. It was proof that appearances could be deceiving. Still, Aegor didn't bother denying it… there was nothing to be ashamed of. "That's part of it, yes. But more importantly, I want to restore peace to the North so we can safely buy your grain and help the Wall survive this winter. My lord, the Mountain Clans and the New Gift settlers aren't familiar with the terrain of the Wolfswood. Would you be willing to send us some guides to help us retake the area?"

...

"Which little brat brought a nest of Wildlings to my doorstep!" Before Hother could reply, a louder, rougher voice rang out from beyond the door.

(To be continued.)