Chapter 361: Conflict
It was a nightmare of a coincidence in timing. Night's Watch + The North vs. The Others and the army of the dead—it was supposed to be a straightforward script, but the Iron Islands and the Dragon Queen just had to butt in. Thinking along the lines of a conspiracy theory, these two parties were likely being manipulated by the subconscious whims of the Great Other and the Lord of Light, respectively, causing them to appear at the edge of the battlefield at this final, critical moment with such uncanny precision...
Euron Greyjoy was undoubtedly an enemy, but could Daenerys Targaryen be considered an ally?
If the discussion was about opposing the Great Other, the answer was clearly yes. In fact, she was far more than just an ally; she was the core. If the Proxy War Theory that Bran the Greenseer had induced him to conclude was true, then Daenerys, who had hatched three dragons, was likely the top-seeded candidate on R'hllor's list of the chosen. He and the likes of Jon Snow were probably just backup insurance policies, ranked second based on whoever performed better.
But this world was not merely a stage for the confrontation between the Great Other and the Lord of Light; the relationships between various factions were complex enough to be maddening... If nothing else, Daenerys hadn't returned to Westeros to fight the Others; she had come to take back what is hers.
The Dragon Queen's perfectly timed return placed Egger in an incredibly awkward position. Using notes to force Petyr Baelish away, risking everything to help Tyrion Lannister escape back to the Westerlands, bringing Arya Stark safely back to Winterfell... After a series of miscellaneous maneuvers, though he had never left Westeros, his influence as a transmigrator had rippled out like a massive boulder dropped into a pool, reaching across the Narrow Sea to involve Daenerys, who had once been on the other side of the world.
Precisely because it had become impossible to predict her actions based on the original plot, Egger had proceeded with his arrangements for the Gift and the Wall under the premise of completely ignoring the existence of the Dragon Queen.
If the Gift could resist the servants of the Great Other independently without the help of her three dragons and the Unsullied, then if she did show up in the end, wouldn't it just be the icing on the cake, making victory even more certain?
Production of wildfire and obsidian weapons was proceeding smoothly, with stockpiles large enough to kill a hundred thousand wights several times over. The recruitment and training of troops... while not perfect, was more or less sufficient and usable. The grand gift specially prepared for the Others—the dragonglass grenades—had reached a relatively mature model and process after several tests and improvements, only awaiting a stable supply of saltpeter for mass production. However, that was exactly where the problem lay:
The Gift was freezing cold, lacking the conditions for large-scale experiments and production that required chemical reactions and strict temperature control. Therefore, the tasks of searching for niter mines and attempting to refine saltpeter had been assigned to the prospecting department and researchers at the King's Landing industrial park. Once war broke out between Daenerys and Stannis, the Night's Watch Industry, headquartered in King's Landing, would inevitably be affected. He might not be able to get the crucial saltpeter in time, meaning he would have to face the Others without his dragonglass grenades!
Having received permission to enter, Myrcella walked in softly, passing a visibly annoyed Melisandre. Though her beauty rivaled that of the Red Woman, the little princess was at a significant disadvantage in terms of height and presence. Fortunately, the witch wasn't the type to go out of her way to trouble a little girl; she gave a casual downward glance and swiveled out of the room.
The door closed. Feeling as though she had been glared at by Melisandre, Myrcella asked timidly, "Lord Egger... did I... did I interrupt you?"
"No, just a small disagreement." Egger forced a thread of attention from his cluttered thoughts and managed a kind smile. "Well, did you see your two brothers?"
She had. Joffrey was his usual self, grumbling petulantly about everything and showing not a hint of joy at seeing his sister. Tommen, on the other hand, had spent half the time weeping in his sister's arms; not only did he steal her tragic spotlight, but it was she—the girl—who had to comfort him... Of course, there was no need to trouble Lord Egger with these trivial details.
Despite the inconsistencies in her brothers' descriptions, Myrcella was smart enough to sift useful information from their jumbled narratives. She could see that conditions in the Gift were much better than legends and imagination suggested, and that Joffrey and Tommen—while certainly not living a life of leisure—were clearly being well-protected and cared for. Beyond her relief, her meticulous nature ensured she didn't forget her manners; she hurried over to thank Egger for making it all possible.
"I have." Myrcella suppressed the heartache of just having parted with her two exiled brothers and walked toward Egger's desk with a forced cheerfulness. "They are doing well. I truly thank you for your care, Lord Egger."
"You're welcome. Sit, don't be a stranger. Treat this like home."
Despite having a mountain of things to do, humans are visual creatures after all; being in the company of such a lovely person would make anyone feel refreshed. Egger hadn't actually gone out of his way to look after the two boys; he had simply entrusted them to the teachers at the Queenscrown Academy, giving them a few instructions to keep a close eye on them... Nevertheless, since his subordinates had done the job well, he, as the leader, naturally took the credit. He accepted her thanks with a clear conscience.
Then, he quickly remembered something he wanted to ask: "You've come at just the right time—Miss Maeve, while you were in Winterfell, did you hear any news from the south regarding Daenerys Targaryen's return to Westeros?"
Myrcella was younger than Arya, and shorter as well; standing on the other side of the desk, she was only a head taller than the seated Egger, so it didn't feel too intrusive. She tilted her head and thought for a moment, then nodded. "I think I heard the castle servants discussing something about 'the Mad King's daughter has returned,' but I'm not sure of the specifics. Perhaps you could ask Arya or Lady Catelyn; they might know more."
True enough. Myrcella was a little girl living under someone else's roof in the castle of her parents' enemy; it took most of her effort just to avoid being disliked. Where would she find the time or energy to pry into such matters? Whether it was Stannis, Aegon, or Daenerys, none of them were on good terms with the Lannisters. No matter who won, it had nothing to do with her, Myrcella Baratheon. Why should she care if they fought until the world turned dark?
The little princess's skin was as white as snow, so smooth it seemed poreless, and her shimmering golden hair cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall, seemingly brightening the dim room. With bright eyes and pearly teeth, her soft, rosy lips were as plump and delicate as a peach, making one want to take a bite...
With such a beautiful sight before him, Egger had no heart to appreciate it. He unconsciously stroked his chin and began to seriously consider Melisandre's proposal—but the direct reason wasn't to recruit Daenerys as an ally, but to preserve the Night's Watch offices and industries in King's Landing.
It was just like when Renly Baratheon had led his army to besiege King's Landing; Egger had gone to see him to request that his army bypass the industrial park and refrain from looting when they stormed the city.
But this time was different from Renly's attack. Even if he took a fast ship from Eastwatch and traveled at top speed—assuming Daenerys was in the south waiting for him instead of wandering off—the round trip would take at least ten days... If the Others attacked during that interval, what would he be if not a deserter?
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