Chapter 272: Emergency Directives and a Small Interlude
Egger actually knew next to nothing about military affairs. The plan he presented to Robb was largely born of conjecture; it seemed sophisticated and persuasive, but whether it was truly the optimal choice... remained to be seen.
He wasn't sure if the benefits for the North outweighed the drawbacks, but one thing was certain: he and the Night's Watch were the biggest winners of this conversation.
First, Robb had sought advice from a man of the Watch—who was theoretically bound to remain neutral. This not only added a shared secret to their personal relationship but also meant Robb owed him another favor. With this connection in place, Robb could no longer conduct his inspection with a purely cold, impartial hand. As long as this group visit to the Gift didn't encounter any catastrophic blunders, he likely wouldn't be able to lose face by calling a halt to the Gift Settlement Plan.
Second, the new Warden of the North had originally intended to inspect the Gift with the sincere goal of seeing how the settlement plan was progressing. After being thoroughly persuaded, however, he had changed his mind to use finding the situation grim during the northern inspection as his excuse for not rejoining the war. When the intent behind an action is no longer pure, focus cannot be fully maintained, and the outcome usually shifts accordingly.
Finally, the main Northern host—which would now stay behind—was naturally a powerful reserve force for the Watch. This meant the margin for error in the Wall's defense against the White Walkers had vastly increased. Even if something went wrong, the Night's Watch would have time to raise the alarm, and the situation would still be salvageable.
The conversation had lasted much longer than expected, but Egger had successfully achieved the goals he had set for himself before heading south. His display of high-level solemn nonsense was over, and having successfully bluffed the new Master of the North, Egger's fourth attempt to take his leave finally went through without a hitch. He departed the Lord of Winterfell's solar.
The guards who never left his side were still waiting outside. Egger nodded to them, casually bid farewell to the two Stark guards, and unhurriedly led his men toward his quarters.
As the Chief Logistics Officer of the Night's Watch and a key hero in the campaign to expel the Ironborn, Egger had a private guest room in Winterfell, even while the army had not yet fully disbanded and the castle was still teeming with people. After walking toward his quarters for a few minutes, the moment they left the sight of the Winterfell guards and servants, the relaxed expression on his face vanished. His countenance shifted, and he gestured for the most reliable and capable of his guards to approach for emergency orders.
"Leave the castle immediately, take a dozen men, and ride back to Queenscrown. Tell Yam that the Warden of the North sets out for the Gift in two days; tell him to get ready," Egger said at a rapid-fire pace. "I already gave him detailed instructions on what to do before I left; you don't need to say much, he understands my meaning. But the plan has hit a few snags, and the response strategy I taught him needs to change accordingly. You must remember the following perfectly and relay it clearly to the Town Master and the Logistics Officer of Queenscrown."
The young guard nodded with a solemn expression. "Yes, my lord. Give your orders."
"First, the scale and manner of reception. The noble party coming north has grown from one house to five..."
Egger talked and thought as he walked, feeling for a moment like composing a poem in seven steps, though he wasn't creating art. In the short hundred-meter walk from the solar to his room, he racked his brain to list several additional items... It was impossible to consider everything perfectly in such a short time, but there was no choice; time was of the essence, and he had to send word back today.
As the leader of a faction, he also decided to leave certain minor details for his subordinates to handle on their own.
...
"That's all for now. Tell Yam and Humphrey that if they feel anything is missing, they should feel bold enough to fill it in for me. Depart now. Travel at a normal pace; no need for a forced march, just stay safe on the road."
"Yes, my lord."
One of them, Yam, had a family history of managing gold mines for the Lannisters, while the other, Humphrey, was a former accountant for a Westerlands merchant guild in King's Landing. When it came to social graces and handling affairs, they were far from incompetent.
As the young man turned to leave, Egger looked back and, finding nothing left to add, shook his head and prepared to push open his door.
"Lord... Egger?" A crisp, childish voice called out, making him stop in his tracks.
He turned around and saw a little girl emerge from the corner of a hallway turn.
The girl looked even younger than Arya; Egger quickly determined he didn't know her. His first reaction was that Varys had sent a "little bird" to deliver a secret message... but then he realized that in the eunuch's eyes, he shouldn't even exist. His second reaction was that the girl was remarkably beautiful; her delicate, porcelain-like face was slightly flushed from the cold, and a thick, beautiful head of golden hair couldn't be contained by her leather cap, with a few strands spilling out to catch the eye.
"It is I." The girl looked like she had been waiting for a while. Egger gave up on guessing. "And you are, my lady—?"
"I am Maeve, Maeve Snow."
Who on earth is this? Egger was still confused. A bastard girl? But this girl looked well-bred and her demeanor was quite elegant; one could easily believe she was Arya's sister or the third daughter of House Stark... but the Watchman was certain: House Stark had no such member.
"Hello Maeve. Is there something I can do for you?" Egger smiled and nodded to the girl, using the etiquette reserved for a noble lady.
"No... you honor me too much, my lord." The girl's eyes flickered with a trace of panic, but she quickly regained her composure. "I heard news—that my brothers are about to follow you to the Wall, to take the black and join the Night's Watch."
If he couldn't guess who the girl was now, his brain was useless.
Myrcella Baratheon, the former Princess of the Seven Kingdoms!
The path Eddard Stark had planned for this girl seemed to have stabilized... though, if she was changing her name, why give her a Northern bastard surname? If Jaime knew his only daughter was now bearing the name Maeve Snow, living a pitiful life as a ward in Winterfell, what would he think?
After a few seconds of idle thought, Egger realized his instinctive reaction was somewhat unfair to Ned.
When Ned Stark had set this arrangement, he couldn't have guessed that Jaime would end up taking the black through a strange twist of fate; there was absolutely no intent to deliberately insult anyone in these measures. As a product of incest known to the whole realm, the only way to protect Myrcella was to make her original identity disappear from the world. To ensure secrecy, this step could not involve any outsiders... Lending a surname to this 'abomination' would be seen as an insult by even the poorest minor house, so the best way was for her to wear the guise of a bastard, just like Jon.
Letting Myrcella grow up as the ward of Winterfell—the offspring of some unknown noble—and then marrying her off to a minor lord or a newly knighted man to raise children and live a peaceful life... was likely the best ending the good man Eddard Stark could imagine for his enemy's daughter.
(Jaime is now my sworn brother, so in a sense, doesn't that make Myrcella my 'sworn niece'?)
Egger didn't know why such a peculiar thought popped up. He shook it off and let out a long sigh. "The news you heard is true, my lady."
"Is it true..." Myrcella had gone to great lengths to find out where Egger lived, but it wasn't just to confirm the news. She didn't look surprised; she lowered her head and let out a melancholy sigh... after staring at her toes for a moment, she looked up again, seemingly gathering her courage to speak. "My older brother... he is a bad person. I won't hide it from you, I've long felt someone should teach him a lesson and make him suffer a bit. But Tommen, he... he is truly a kind child. He wouldn't even step on an ant... He knows nothing... nothing at all about what my mother and uncle did..."
As she spoke, tears began to glimmer in Myrcella's eyes and her voice choked up. She struggled to keep from crying, but she couldn't finish what she wanted to say.
Although the girl's words were a bit disjointed—even including the bit about Joffrey being bad—Egger could guess her true intent. This little princess, who was either nine or ten, was trying to protect her brothers even after falling from heaven to hell. To that end, she had specifically sought out the quarters of a Night's Watch officer to beg him not to mistreat Joffrey and Tommen.
She was... heart-wrenchingly sensible.
Egger's heart softened, and he gently patted the girl's shoulder. "My lady, I don't know what image the Night's Watch holds in your eyes, but I promise you, I will not let anyone harm your brothers. They will be treated fairly."
Children being made to accept the punishment for their parents' inability to control their lower halves... from a modern perspective, it was indeed a sin. Personally, Egger utterly loathed Joffrey—even for a brat, Joffrey's nature was entirely different from Arya's mischief—but he had too many things to do now; he had no interest in being bored enough to move against the little antagonist who had fallen into his hands.
He would give Joffrey and Tommen fair treatment—that was the truth—but to be honest, the Wall wasn't a dumping ground for political prisoners for no reason. In a godforsaken place like that, even if no one went out of their way to bully you, how comfortable could it be?
"Thank you... for your promise... my lord." Myrcella wiped the tears from her eyes, seemingly determined to finish her plea. "But I have an unreasonable request... I hope... that on the basis of fair treatment, you could look after them just a little... could you? I know—I know it might be too much, but I am willing... willing to give anything, do anything..."
At this point, likely realizing that she had nothing to offer and could do nothing for this adult man who held a high position, managed thousands of people, and was so trusted by the Starks that he could freely enter and leave the Lord of Winterfell's solar, Myrcella stopped. She had hidden her identity with a name change, but for the stability of the Seven Kingdoms, her two brothers had to officially join the Night's Watch under their original names. The thought of them spending their lives under the contemptuous and loathing gazes of those who saw them as monsters made her heart twist with pain.
The girl finally couldn't hold back her tears and began to sob into her hands.
Egger looked helplessly at the guards watching this scene. They all just shrugged, unable to help; no one knew how to comfort a little girl crying her heart out.
"Fine, Lady Maeve, I promise you." Egger helplessly surrendered to his sworn niece's tearful assault. "I will do my best to ensure your brothers are safe and feel well at the Wall—both physically and mentally. If necessary, you can even petition the Lord of Winterfell to visit them at an appropriate time and in an appropriate manner. Does this answer satisfy you, my lady?"
"Thank you, my lord... thank you..."
Egger didn't know if Myrcella had truly broken down or if she was intentionally putting on this act to gain sympathy and promises, but he was a bit afraid to let her continue. Fearing some cliché lines like 'offering herself' or 'working like a horse to repay him' might come out, he quickly gave a look to one of his guards. "Escort Lady Maeve back to her quarters and take good care of her!"
...
That a woman as bizarre as Cersei could produce such a clever and kind daughter was a wonder; if Arya were even half as sensible, how much worry would it save her parents and himself?
But on second thought, this sensibility was a tragic thing in itself. To move from the bustling, prosperous, and warm Red Keep to the cold fortress of Winterfell, surviving on the mercy of enemies and living according to the whims of others—even to protect her own brothers, she had to rack her brain for information and even resort to the ultimate weapon of tears.
This is the fate of the loser.
Though he was annoyed to death every time they met, Egger was certain: if he were to have a daughter in the future, he would rather she be a brat like Arya—someone who would pester him when he was busy and get into trouble for him to settle... so she could spend her childhood without a care, forever keeping her innocence, joy, and love for life.
Of course, as long as she didn't get him killed.
After a moment of inexplicable sentimentality, Egger watched his guard lead Myrcella away and let out a long sigh of relief. Then, he remembered something important.
"Do you know who she is?"
"Probably..."
"The daughter of our cuckold King, I suppose."
"No, the correct answer is: you don't know." Egger glared sternly at the subordinate and then looked at everyone present. "She is just an ordinary girl adopted by Winterfell. You don't know her name, you don't know where she came from, and you certainly didn't hear this conversation today. Keep your mouths shut. Do I make myself clear?"
Seeing the expression on their superior's face, the soldiers—who had been following Egger since King's Landing—knew he wasn't joking. They immediately replied solemnly, "Yes, my lord."
Though Eddard Stark's arrangement wasn't perfect, it was quite well-considered. Whether out of respect for the late great man or simply to protect an innocent girl, Egger didn't want the effort of hiding Myrcella's identity to be ruined by his hands.
Well... it feels pretty good to be a purely noble person once in a while.
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